Anna
He made me eat a sandwich and three fruit cups from his house, plus two glasses of orange juice.
It isn’t like he force-fed me. I was the one who shoveled the food into my mouth and discovered that once I started, my stomach craved more and anything looked appetizing.
Jessiah seemed pleased. “I’m glad you’re eating,” he told me.
I swallowed the last of the fruit cup. “Well, that makes one of us, I guess.”
The smile he was wearing dropped into a frown and he rested his elbows on the kitchen table. He stared at me with tormented eyes. “You don’t need to lose any weight, Anna.”
I looked down and swirled the spoon through the leftover fruit syrup. My stomach recoiled at both the sight and his words. He was wrong. I nodded, but even I could tell that it was unconvincing.
Jessiah sighed and reached across the table for my arm. He wrapped his fingers around my left wrist. He looked into my eyes. “Do you see this?”
I stared at his hand but couldn’t find it in myself to be moved by the sight. He could fit his hand around my wrist. So what? I could do that, too. Most people could. It didn’t mean anything except that he was a toned guy, so obviously he would be able to form a fist around my wrist.
When I didn’t say anything, he pulled his hand away and leaned his forehead against his palms. “You aren’t fat, Anna. I don’t know why you would ever think you were, but you aren’t. Please believe me.”
I just nodded, and we both fell apart a little more.