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“Sit.” He points to the stool I just left.
Glancing to the counter, I’m surprised to find the food pushed to his side and out of my direct line of sight. Sighing, I climb back onto the stool, lifting my eyes reluctantly to find his looking back at me intently.
“Was it the type of food, or just the food in general?” he asks.
“It was nothing.”
“I asked you a question, I expect a proper reply,” he warns.
Dropping my gaze to my hands I whisper, “It was both.”
“Are you anorexic? Or bulimic?” he asks slowly.
I shake my head.
“So…”
“I’m only allowed to eat certain foods,” I whisper.
“And cheese, egg yolks, and bacon aren’t on the list?”
I shake my head again.
“Let me guess, your mom told you what to eat?”
“She didn’t want me to get fat,” I say, so quietly its barely audible.
“And there were consequences if you didn’t do what you were told,” he says, but this time it’s not a question, because he already knows the answer. “Look at me, baby,” he says, gently lifting my chin.
After a while I lift my gaze, terrified at what his eyes will be telling me when I finally lock my gaze with his. I expect to see pity, or revulsion, instead I see anger.
“This didn’t happen the other times we’ve eaten together.”
“I know.”
“But something triggered you today?” he asks.
Shrugging I sigh. “I guess so, I could just hear her in my head and then I remembered…” I trail off, unwilling to rehash my repugnant past.
“Your mom is an ugly, old, jealous cunt.”
My mouth falls open, and a giggle bursts free, filling the silence.
“A nasty, mean, evil, fucking cunt,” he says, louder this time. “I fucking hate them, both your parents, but especially your mom, she’s a fucking disgrace.”
Another slightly hysterical giggle escapes my lips, then another, until I’m laughing like what he just said is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.
“I don’t know what that evil cunt did to you if you broke her rules, but I’m gonna guess it was bad. That’s what you were thinking about just now isn’t it?”
I nod, the laughter dying on my lips as my mind flashes back to the grin on her face as she held out those godforsaken pills to me.
“I wish I could take those memories away from you, baby, but I can’t. Tell me how I can help?”
“I don’t know,” I say, sighing wearily.
“What would you normally have for breakfast?”
“Mrs. Humphries made me a green juice.”
