Chapter Seven
Just A Footprint
I want to open my eyes one morning and not see the white ceiling of the hospital but instead, the cream color of my bedroom. I want to get up and not feel like I have to eat, but want to. I want to smile when I see my sister, look at myself in the mirror and be happy. I want to wear clothes that don't feel too big on me. I want to sit with my family and eat breakfast and for once not count calories with every spoonful of cereal. I want to leave the house with a kiss from my mom, a hug from my sister and a thought of my father somewhere in my mind. I want to close the door behind me and look out to what is surely a beautiful world, inhale some fresh air and smile. Live. But for now, the hospitals ceiling is all I have to look at.
For the first time since Gabe's passing, I wake up looking considerably forward to this day. It's a Saturday and even though there is a slight chance of rain, the sun is trying its best to push through the clouds, some of its warm rays managing to pierce through my window. They had told me yesterday before I went to sleep that we would be going on a trip, to where, I do not know. I only know that I am required to go and that all of the people on my floor will be attending. I am not worrying about this kind of social gathering. I mean, most of the people on my floor are in their seventies. They won't judge. They won't stare. They have their own problems to worry about.
I slip on a white t-shirt and some grey skinny jeans. Its funny calling them skinny jeans when my legs are like twigs and the jeans are anything but tight. If anything they are baggy jeans but if I wore a normal pair I would look quite silly. In these, I look normal. Weight wise. Yet, I know when the wind blows against my t-shirt, people will be able to see the outline's of my ribs. To save myself those stares, I throw on a grey sweater with a print of an old 80's band on it.
I cant imagine what my hair looks like so I run my hands through it, pulling it away from my face. I can hear the faint sounds of conversations in the hallway and I know people are already ready and waiting at the door. I'm running a bit late, so I skip breakfast. It wasn't really a hard choice to make but when you are under this much scrutiny and you're being watched this close, a decision like that is huge.
I peer out from my door to the end of the hallway where about ten patients are waiting at the glass doors, looking out to the small minibus that has been hired. I can't help but remember my first field trip in school, the minibus waiting outside and the whole class looking out the window with wonder in our eyes. The old geezer's here are not so different from us after all. We all love the little things, a simple field trip can make such a difference.
I quickly gather a few things into my rucksack. A bottle of water, biscuit-bar for some energy and a book that I have been reading. It was Gabe's, he never finished it- his bookmark is still somewhere near the end. So I thought I would finish it for him. I didn't expect to particularly like the old, worn book, nor did I except to fall in love with it. But what can I say, Gabe had good taste. I throw the book into the bag, pull the tightening strings and walk briskly to the excited crowd.
I cannot help but feed of their excitement and soon I am smiling. Not smiling because I'm excited, I don't even know where we are going, but smiling because everyone else is. I realize that I am probably the only one here with all my original teeth. Everyone is elderly. But I expected it. In some way, I want it just to be the old folks. Sometimes they can be more understanding than anyone else my age.
The nurse in charge of the outing steps in front of the small group. She raises her hands slightly and motions for them to settle down.
“Quiet please, just for a moment. I know you are all very excited for today. I just need to take a quick head count and then we can all get onto the bus.” She begins counting the patients and I am watching her lips mouth every number as she counts them. Nine, Ten, Eleven, and then she looks at me, points at me. Twelve.
“Now!” She says, her voice going considerably higher. “Very well. Everyone onto the bus. Bridge Bay Beach here we come.”
My heart sinks. My smile vanishes. All hope that today was going to be a good day is diminished. How can any day at the towns beach be a 'good day' when your best friend died there? Not to mention the road that brings you there is the same road dad was killed on. I know before I get onto the bus that I will not make any new, happy memories today. The only memories will be the ones I will not be able to get out of my head. The ones I have tried to lock away, so deeply.
I place a reluctant foot onto the bus and sigh.
*
The beach is surprisingly packed today. Not that it's ever really empty. This is where most people usually come to hang out on the weekend, especially the youth of Bridge Bay. I ignore the stares from Mandy Crenshaw, Bridge Bay High's head cheerleader, and her gaggle of friends. But I can't ignore their words. Blocking out an image is easy enough but sounds are so much harder. Their words pierce my ears like daggers- poison to my brian. 'So skinny!' 'Crazy!' 'Freak!'
I find a place, almost cut off from the busy part of the beach, and sit on the sand, against a huge rock. The waves go in and out and almost touch my bare feet but before they do they are pulled back out to shore. The sun is no where to be seen yet it is really warm out. Even the breeze is warm. In the distance, a large fishing boat sails by the light house.
I pull out Gabe's book and crack it open to where I have my own bookmark, or folded page I should say. I remember him moaning about how he hated people that put dog ears on books. If he is looking down on me now, I can only imagine the names he is calling me. I smile at the thought.
I become absorbed into the world of the book. For a while I forget where I am. There is no crowded beach, no gawking kids, no suppressed memories. There is just me and this story. Time passes, the tide moves further out by the hour and the sky is turning a dark grey. Sand castles have already been built and now the group from the hospital are enjoying a light meal, gathered around together like a picnic. I remain at my own excluded picnic. The protein bar and a swig of my water fill me up or at least put to rest the thoughts of food. When they ask if I have eaten today and I say yes, it won't be a lie.
“You know, I think you're supposed to be sitting with them.” A girl's voice says. I recognize it almost immediately and look up. She is leaning against another rock while she pours sand from her shoes. She has her hair tied up and is wearing the same jacket she wore to Chris' funeral, long, black and spreading out like a tutu. She slips her cream shoe back on, satisfied and then places her hands in her pockets and steps in front of my view of the ocean.
“I wasn't in the humor of listening to stories that begin with 'back in my day' or 'when I was your age'.” I say, surprising myself with a slight smile. She laughs and then takes a seat on the sand.
I am trying to stay calm, trying to act cool. She is so strikingly beautiful. Her skin is just as, if not paler than mine. Her hair is so dark it brings out her blue, glistening eyes. She has a piercing at the corner of her mouth, a silver stud and a black tattoo running up her neck. All of these things make her so much more interesting than any girl in my school. Maybe she Mandy Crenshaw could be in competition but only because Mandy was so obviously and typically stunning- blonde hair, brown eyes, tall and athletic. Emily on the other hand, looked like she didn't care about looks.
“I don't blame you but they are good people.” She replies. I bet she knows everyone of them by name. Yet, she didn't come today on the bus. Maybe she only stays in the hospital when she wants to like, voluntarily. I want to ask, but I don't. It's on the tip of my tongue. “Why were you at Chris' funeral? Who are you? Why do you go to the hospital? What's wrong with you?” So many questions and I can't even speak. There is a silence, not awkward. We just stare out to the ocean. It has become dark enough now that we can see the light revolving at the top if the light house.
“So Jack with anorexia, have you seen anymore of your friend around?” She asks, careful enough not to use his name even though she probably knows it. I am almost shocked at the question but I guess it is a valid one, I mean, I would probably ask such a question too.
“No, not since I was in the hole. I guess it was just a mixture of the meds and tiredness maybe. You know, hallucinations and stuff.” I explain, almost to myself. Maybe it was just a hallucination but I can't get rid of that voice at the back of my head that tells me it wasn't.
“Well thats good. Dead things, should stay dead, right.” she says. If only she knew how much of those 'dead' I would love to have living again.
“I guess.”
“Then again, if we had the option to bring someone back, we probably would. I know I would.” She says, the last part to herself. She turns away and watches a few sea gulls as they glide above us. I wonder if she was referring to Chris or maybe someone else she know's who died. I don't press instead I just let the silence play out.
A thick fog falls over the beach and soon all roads leading to hear become invisible. All that is visible is the portion of the beach we are on, a few dark figures in the distance and the light from the light house whizzing past every now and again. It almost feels like we are in our own world. I toss Gabe's book back into my bag and take another swig of water. Emily turns her head over her shoulder and looks at me.
“Are you heading back to the hospital?” She asks. Maybe she wants a lift.
“Yeah, I think we will be going soon now that it's dark and I have some anorexia to be doing.” I say, sarcastically. I kneel on the sand as I pack my bag.
“Tell me Jack, why are you anorexic?” Her questions catches me off guard. I stop packing and look directly at her. The light ouse lights shines and reflects off my glassy eyes. A cloud of fog passes by us as I ponder the question. Why am I anorexic? I never even asked myself that question before. I drop onto my backside and rest my arms on my knee's before answering.
“I have many reasons to be like this.”
“That wasn't the question. I'm not asking what made you anorexic, I'm asking why that was the way you chose to go.” Her words are so clear and crisp. She sounds like another doctor.
I know what makes me want to act out like this. At first it was the loss of my father, then I overcame that. Then it was the loss of Chris. So there was only one really obvious reason.
“Because it's the only way I know how to deal with my grief.” I realize.
She grins slightly, knowing that I had to really think of an answer and knowing that by thinking of an answer I somehow came to some self-realization.
“You don't want to be perfect do you Jack? You just want to walk along the beach and leave no foot prints.”
Butterflies are floating in my stomach. Who is this girl? In the distance, the nurse that brought us here begins calling my name and waving her hand at me as if to say 'hurry up!'
I get to my feet and pull the ruck sack over my back, tightening the straps. Emily too gets to her feet. We just stare at each other, nothing to say yet so much I want to ask.
“I guess I'll just have to pop up unexpectedly some other time, Jack.” She whispers.
“I guess so.” I whisper back, becoming lost in my thoughts.
She steps forward and stands on her tippy toes, I am slightly taller than her. She is inhaling my exhalations, we are that close. Some part of me wants to kiss her, maybe she wants me to. “Don't let something you cant define, define you.” She whispers. She looks deeply into my eyes, cocks her head and smiles. Skipping away, she leaves me standing there. I want to run after her, grab her back and pull her into a kiss. But I don't. I stand there, watching her skip away.
When I return to the hospital, I drop my bag into my room and walk straight to the one place I have yet to go to. I walk slowly, almost changing my mind a hundred times before actually getting there. The cafeteria is empty at this hour. The only people here is the plump woman behind the counter. I swallow hard, and slowly walk forward, picking up a tray and an empty plate and placing it beside the woman. Pointing to the meat on display I look up from the deli and face the woman.
“I'll have some of that please, it look's lovely.”
End of Chapter Seven
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