༺ THIRTY - EIGHT ༻

Everything is falling apart. Thomas has traffic delay, so he has to stay an extra night in some motel because the adults refused to drive through the night, my weight loss isn't going as fast as before, and Newt keeps staring at me with that stupid look on his face.

The other thing I'm not prepared for, is the fact Luca invited my whole family over for a dinner. It's so random that I almost fell off my chair when he mentioned it, but apparently he does it with every employee, to reassure the parents the restaurant is fine, and to get closer to his colleagues.

I'm not comfortable with this. Pizza on the table. On my plate, also. Everyone's eating, I'm staring. I don't feel good anymore. I feel sick. I don't know if I mean physically or mentally, but I don't have any appetite. Just want to hold my stomach until the cramps vanish. Want to keep adding more concealer so I look approachable.

"Ah, I wish I worked here, sometimes," Dad says, chuckling. "Must be nice to eat Italian every work day, right, Rose?"

"Right," I say.

"She doesn't always eat dinner here," Luca says, chuckling too. He's too oblivious, I think. He doesn't see my pleading eyes, begging him to not spill this secret.

"That's because Thomas and I eat in his car," I say. It's the truth. I don't mention what I do after eating, but they don't have to know.

"True," Luca says. "Now Thomas isn't here—I miss him, by the way—I'll try not to take it as an offense you still eat at home every night. Not even my gnocchi is accepted!"

Deep shit.

All eyes are on me, and I shrink.

I've told my family I eat at Mamma Mia, and I've told Luca I eat at home.

"I often change the rhythm," I say fast. "I mean, I sometimes pick some leftovers at home and eat those and sometimes I eat here."

I took a few bites at home and maybe a few bites here. That must count.

Then Newt changes the subject to the class he sometimes teaches to sometimes, and I'll be forever grateful for that.

✵

"Mom, please don't." I escape from her arms before she even manages to wrap them around me once we're back home. The ride back was silent, and now Mom almost seems to be in tears.

"We should've noticed—"

"There's nothing to notice," I say. I want to yell the words, but I don't have the energy to. I just want to lie in bed. In Thomas's arms. The one who won't judge me in a way others do. He won't force me to do anything.

Luckily, I'm wearing big clothes so no one can really see my body below it, but Sonya knows too much by now.

"Mom—" I try, but it doesn't work because she's already sending Sonya and Newt upstairs. Then I look at Dad with desperate eyes. "Please, there's nothing going on."

"Love, it's okay if there is things going on. We want to help you. It just comes as a shock—"

"What comes as a shock?" I snap. "What exactly do you think it means I might not be eating a few dinners that well? That I'm immediately some kind of mentally ill patie—"

"Rose—"

"Just weigh me, then," I say. "Give me three seconds to remove my shoes in privacy and then weigh me."

"We don't want to base anything of your weight, love." Mom steps closer. "We want to hear things from you. If you're struggling, because now that we found out about this it's kind of connecting all the dots, we only want to help. It doesn't matter if the process is slow or hard or—"

"I don't want to," I say. The thought of gaining weight already sickens my stomach. It's become a real fear. I can't. "I'm alright. I'm standing and I'm dancing and I'm eating, but sometimes have to watch out because of ballet. I'm eighteen. I can make my own choices, Mom."

"But we can't know how much—"

"Enough," I say. "I eat until I'm full and I swear on everything that I'm not hungry right now. I'm eating." And I vomit and take laxatives. "There's no need to worry."

They share a glance. "You said you eat with Thomas? That's true?"

"Yes," I urge. "You can call him- no, don't call him. He doesn't have to worry. But I swear I eat with him."

Dad runs a hand down his face and stops it when he has reached his chin, rubbing it. "Fine. I don't want to push you either. But you will eat all meals in front of us."

"Fine," I say, just a little snappier than he did.

I know that if I would've spoken the truth, they would make me get back into different eating habits in a softer, less quick way, but I've told them I'm eating and now I just need to prove it.

✵

Just as I'm doing what they told me to, eating the pancakes Newt baked this morning, the doorbell rings and I'm alert at a voice I'd recognize anywhere.

"Thomas!" I jump up, basically pushing Newt aside and attack the boy with a hug. Even with the force I jump, he doesn't seem fazed by it and just hugs me back, steady on his feet.

I can't even care about Newt right now. Man, I've missed him. His smell, his arms around me, the way I can bury my head in the crook of his neck, how he holds me, speaks... I tighten my arms around him.

"I missed you," I whisper so quietly that Newt can't hear.

"I missed you too, Blondie," he tells me. Then raises his voice, "Sorry, Newt. Colleagues and window mates have a bond like no other. I'd almost call it imprinti—"

I give his back a soft slap. "Don't go that far into it."

"Into what?" I can hear the grin.

A sigh leaves my lips, but I smile. "Into convincing him."

"Hm." He hums. "Really thought you meant something else there, Blondie. Too bad."

"Tonight you can go super far into convincing him," I mutter even quieter, so that even I can barely hear it. "Anyway—" and I let go of him, "—I'll let Newt hug you now."

Luckily, Mom and Dad aren't calling me back, so I can greet Thomas as long as I want before I do have to finish the last pancake. I don't eat it with syrup or anything, and no one says anything about it so I'm also glad about that.

Newt asks Thomas if he wants to check his Christmas presents out upstairs, so they leave and I'm left alone with my parents.

I finish the pancakes, wipe my hands together, and tilt my head. "Good enough?"

They share another glance. Mom bites her lip, then nods. "Good enough. I'm proud of you."

"Don't have to be. Every human eats. It's a normal thing." I jump up. "Can I go upstairs? I want to catch up with Thomas."

They allow me to.

And I do really catch up with Thomas, just after my bathroom break and after Newt claimed the boy for at least two hours. Well, they're friends, so I can't be upset about it.

It's Monday. I know I said I'd stop on Sunday, but I only realized after the food was out, alright? Tomorrow, I'll really start.

When he finally arrives, I think my face starts glowing. "Hey," I say, and I don't have to do much to get my cheeks cupped and for there to be a long kiss.

"Hi," he mumbles against my lips before we apart and sit down on my bed, in front of each other again. "Ah, it's good to be back."

"I'm glad your back." I make a little bounce. "How was it? Tell me everything you didn't tell me on the phone!"

"Well, Chuck did interview me because I talked a suspicious lot about you, then I almost betrayed us, but I didn't, and then we played in the snow a lot. Some got in my mouth. It was funny until Chuck joked he saw a man walk his dog on that exact place the same morning."

And he tells me about how many things they baked, all the fireplaces, walks, the big Christmas three, and the presents Chuck got.

Then I tell him about my Christmas, which existed out of a lot of food, some presents, and many visits from friends and family, and then about how it was at work and how I saw Vince and Mary. I leave out some details, because otherwise the story might get too long.

"Wanna stay at my house tonight?" He asks while I catch my breath from speaking that much. "Mom and Dad are helping my grandparents put their stuff away, since their poor backs can't take it. Meanwhile, we can spend our time alone because they're sleeping over anyways. Asked if I wanted to come, but I didn't want to."

We look at each other for a while, then grins start to form.

"My mind is... very dirty right now," he whisper-yells.

"Mine too," I chuckle. "Poor backs?"

"Well, if my grandparents can make that happen, so can we. Except we're not old, so there's got to be another way to hurt our backs."

I throw my head back, laughing. "And why exactly didn't you want to come with your parents?"

He lets himself fall backward, and I quickly lie down so we're face to face. "Because there's many other things I want to come in. Like your house, your room, Newt's room... you know it."

I laugh another time. "Not gonna protest at all."

Thomas lets go of a breath. His eyes are twinkling, his lips slightly parted. "And you? How have you been? Personally?"

He manages to make it sound so gentle and not forced at all. Damnit.

I shrug. "Sometimes things could be better. But I'm okay once you're there."

Thomas reaches out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I hum, then sigh, and then shrug again. "I- well, on that dinner Luca organized for my family and I, it got kind of spilled that I..." I hesitate. "That I'm not eating dinner."

He remains quiet, so I continue.

"Because you were gone and I did really lose my appetite, so refused to eat it."

It's partly the truth. I did really have no appetite. Not at all. The stomach pain is basically numb at this point.

"And now Mom and Dad want me to eat every meal in front of them, as if... as if, well, you know." I lean my cheek against his hand once he rests it on there. "And I hate it. I understand that they want to help because I know I struggle with eating sometimes, but I don't like it and it makes me so uncomfortable that they watch me like that."

Thomas nods, understanding. He's silent for a few more seconds, just gently stroking my cheek. "You could tell them that," he says. "And of course I'm here to help you out, too. Always."

"Thank you," I whisper. Thank god he's not digging deeper into all of it. I think I really have been blessed to get this man. "I love you."

I did not mean to say that I did not mean to say that I did not mean to say that I did not mean to say that—

But he smiles. Moves his hand from my cheek to my waist and pulls me closer to place a kiss on my lips. "I love you," he says.

I'm casually suffocating right now.

But I manage a straight face, just letting the warmth spread in my body. It's been a while since I felt like this about someone saying they love me. I mean, Mom and Dad say it every night and I assume most parents love their kids, and I love them, but it's not like... this. Thomas isn't a family member and I've barely ever had a friend to tell me this, let alone boyfriend.

"That's gonna be another sleepover at Teresa for me tonight."