Anorexia, bulimia, BDD which one could she have? No! Ross, no! Stop, Sydney doesn’t have an eating disorder!... but it would make sense… with all she’s been through, it’s not like I’m judging her, I mean I do lov—or uh I do think she is a really awesome person. Coward. Oh shit I forgot we are walking! I haven’t talked in forever; she probably thinks something is wrong!
“H—here, I brought you a banana…” I hold it out to her and she takes it.
“Thanks?” She observes the banana for a moment, she looks sick to her stomach “but no thanks, I’m not hungry”
“Sydney, please just eat it”
“But I’m not hungry Ross” She seems to be getting irritated.
“Just please. I need to see you eat something” I plead.
“W—what?” She stops walking and stares at me “Why do you need to see me eat something?” Shit… I ratted myself out, what do I do, oh god, I’m not good under pressure, unless it’s performing.
“Umm I uh, I grew that banana myself and I wanted to see if you liked it” That may have been the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.
“Ross…” She eyes me “Don’t lie to me”
“Never mind,” I snatch the banana back “I’ll eat it” I peel it and take a bite. “Damn this is a good banana, sure you don’t want a bite?” I raise an eyebrow and hold the banana out to her.
Sydney looks at the banana for a moment and then looks back up at me, she looks slightly pissed off so I let out an innocent smile.
“Ross, what is your deal?”
“Nothing! I just…” I hesitate
“You just? Uh I’m getting fed up, maybe I’ll JUST go home” She turns, and I start panicking. What do I do now? What should I say? Should I just let her go? No, I need to fix this but how?
“What’s the name of it?” I blurt out, out of impulsiveness. Or I could just make it ten times worse
“The name of what?” She questions, confused.
“Your eating disorder”
“My WHAT?”
“Don’t worry, you can tell me anything. I lov—I mean like you for who you are”
“Ross… I don’t have an eating disorder.”
“Sydney” I pause for a while “Now it’s your turn to tell the truth”
“I am… I do not have an eating disorder”
*Sydney POV*
“Then tell me, why is it you always skip breakfast? And whenever you do eat it is about the serving size of a toddler? I mean I know you’re short but Come On. And the other day when we had steaks you were in the bathroom for a good 15 minutes.” He lectures me in one long breath. I feel my face burning and a tear forming in the corner of my eye just thinking about it
-Flash Back-
I finished my steak and I immediately excused myself from the table and I headed to the bathroom. As I lock the door behind me I lower the toilet seat cover so I have a solid surface to sit on. My head immediately falls into my hands. Why is it that every time I eat a steak, no matter how it was cooked, it tastes exactly like dads. Why does it have to bring back all the amazing memories we had? My hands are now slick with my tears. The whole idea is so fantastic because I know I’ll never feel the same way again, I’ll never see my father again. Then, why is it that every time that feeling is over I have to experience this terrible relapse of withdrawal. I just… uh God, why can’t he still be here.
-End-
I thought I was totally healthy, but maybe I’m not? Maybe my father’s… death… has sent me spiraling into a depression that I never noticed until now. but I don’t want to feel depressed… I don’t want to be known as “That failed actress who has an eating disorder” NO. That all changes now, I will get better.
“Maybe you’re right Ross… but I didn’t even know about it”
“Wait you didn’t know?”
“I thought I was healthy as a horse”
“So does this mean you’ll eat the banana?” I stare at it, all food just reminds me of my dad’s restaurant, it causes me to lose my appetite, because whenever I think of my dad’s restaurant I think of the crime scene. It’s difficult for me to handle. I reluctantly grab the half eaten banana and take a bite.
“Yummy” I say sarcastically.
*Ross POV*
Now what? Now that we know she has a problem how do we fix it? I mean it’s not like we can force feed her… can we? No no. There must be some kind of specialist on this in West LA…
*Sydney POV*
-1 week later-
Nerves. God these nerves. Why am I so nervous? I’ve had to deal with plenty worse than this. I look down to find myself twiddling my thumbs. Oh god control yourself Sydney, you’re stronger than this. I feel a hand cup over my thumbs.
“Calm down it will be fine”
“I know I know. It’s just new to me; I’ve never gone to a professional to deal with my problems. I’ve always kind of worked them out by myself, y’know?” I admit.
“Well I think we can agree this is bigger than both of us.”
“You’re right Ross” I say as we pull into the parking lot. We get out of the car and head into the office. I approach the counter. “Hello, I’m Sydney Anderson. I have an appointment with Dr. Hansen”
“Ah yes! Sydney, the doctor will be with you in a moment, take a seat” We do as we are told and sit. It’s weird even though this isn’t like a medical doctor; the waiting room still has the same tense air. Where you feel like you have to whisper everything you say, if you talk at all, which is a rarity. So Ross and I just sit there in silence, waiting. We hear a door open to our left, and the room fills with a smooth soothing voice.
“Hahaha well let me know if you show signs of relapse, but it looks to me like you’ve got a clean bill of health!” the voice says.
“Oh thank you so much doctor.” A man shakes the woman’s hand and then leaves the office.
“Sydney?” the doctor calls out. Ross and I both stand up and walk over to her. “Oh uh sir? I’m sorry, patients only” She stops Ross. He looks at me like a dog would his owner when they leave for work, as if I’m never coming back.
“It’s okay Ross, I’ll be back in an hour, you can go occupy yourself with something” and with that Dr. Hansen and I disappear behind the door.
“Take a seat Sydney” She motions to one of those couches with only one arm, I thought these were only in movies… I didn’t know they actually existed. I take a seat on the half couch. “So who was that? A boyfriend?” she inquires
“Yes he is my boyfriend” I say a matter-of-factly, she opens her clipboard and takes a look at my papers.
“So you have an eating disorder?”
“I think so…” I then proceed to explain to her my situation.
“Hmm I see” She jots down some information on the papers “And how long did you say this has been happening?”
“I’m not sure… I just noticed last week”
“Hmm okay, well I’ve seen similar cases like this, after something traumatic happens. I have to ask this, are you safe?”
“What, uh, what do you mean?”
Well, your boyfriend, he didn’t seem too pleased on letting you come in here alone, is there something he doesn’t want me to know?” No… she doesn’t mean.
“Are you---are you asking if Ross beats me?”
“Frankly? Yes, now remember patient confidentiality, you can tell me anything” normally I’m cool and collected, but this time my temper gets to me.
“HOW DARE YOU!” I yell while standing up furiously, accidently knocking over the end table. “He is the most respectful boy I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing! And I will not sit here and listen to you accuse him of—of that injustice!” I continue talking loudly.
“I’m sorry Sydney, I didn’t mean anything by it, please sit back down” I do as I’m told, my heart is racing “but clearly I hit a soft spot, please tell me” I bit my lip nervously.
“Ugh… well I had an abusive boyfriend a while ago… and Ross actually saved me from him” I say, attempting to condense it all.
“Mmhmm” She continues to write “When did that start?”
“More than 2 years ago”
“Okay” She writes again “Now I’m going to try something a little different, tell me what you feel when you look at food” She totally changes the subject. What… is this lady kidding me?
“Oh uh I guess if I had to put it in one word…disgusted” it’s actually Lonely.
“Why is the idea of food so disgusting?” Wait should I tell her? I really don’t want to tell this lady whom I barely know about my father, I don’t want to let her into my life. I’ve never actually talked about what happened with my father. Ross would want me to tell her, because it would help me get better. And hell that’s what I want right? To get better?
“It reminds me of my father’s death” I say while lying down on the half couch. She’s quite for a moment and I hear scribbles.
“Why does that remind you of your father’s death?” Damn doctors are nosy.
“Because…” I choke out “his passion in life WAS food… he owned a restaurant, and in that restaurant is where he died.” Scribbles. It’s the first time I thought about it but maybe that’s why I really only enjoy eating steaks, at least until afterwards. I interrupt her scribbles. “And well now that I think about it I only ever enjoy steaks because that was my dad’s specialty, and when I eat them I can’t help but taste his steaks and then they bring back memories, and afterward I’m just overcome with sadness” Damn, words just kept coming out of my mouth, I couldn’t stop.
“Well Sydney, I think we found the source of your problem”
“My—my dad?”
“Exactly! His death to be precise!” she says a little too excited for my liking “I have a few ideas for methods on how to fix you… and I think you’ll make a somewhat quick recovery since you really want to get better” She smiles perkily.
“So lay it on me doc, how am I gunna beat this?”
“Well my first idea is.. I’m going to need you to stay away from eating steaks” I try to interrupt her but she quickly cuts me off “I know, I know… it sounds absurd but clearly steaks have an emotional place in your heart”
“So I can never eat another steak again?”
“No no, just don’t eat them until you can control the negative emotion that comes with it”
“Okay” I skeptically say while standing. This lady is nuts. We exit the room. In the opening of the doorway to the waiting room she speaks.
“And if anything else gives you negative feelings about your father stay away from that too” with that she goes back into her office.
“Your father?” I hear behind me. M eyes widen… no I’m not ready for this. I turn and see Ross.
“Uh yes… um you see… in the medical field they refer to eating disorders as “fathers” its like some… ancient Greek tradition or something…” Well that was better than Ross’ banana excuse.
“What happened with your father” He says as more of a statement than a question.
“Uh…I… here l—let’s talk i—in the car” I stutter.