It's My Life - Melody Carlson [44]
Her eyes narrowed a little. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I know you might have an eating disorder, okay? It's nothing to feel bad or guilty about, and you don't need to try to cover it up, but I really think you should get some help.”
She just stared at me for a long moment, then stood and made her move to leave the table.
“Please don't go, Jenny,” I pleaded, suddenly feeling stupid and guilty over my abrupt confrontation. “You know I'm your friend and that I really care about you.” I glanced around the noisy cafeteria, thinking where was Beanie when you need her? Usually she joined us for lunch these days, and I felt pretty certain she'd have something informative and helpful to say. Unfortunately, I could think of neither.
“Well, if you really do care about me, Cate, then maybe you shouldn't say mean things like that.” She sat back down.
“I'm just worried about your health, Jen. Really.”
“I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much.”
“Okay, then tell me, when did you last eat?”
She looked me in the eye with defiance. “Now.”
“You haven't actually eaten one single bite.”
“So you're counting my bites now?”
“No, that's not it. I just know what's going on with you. Can't you see you're getting thinner and thinner? And I know that can't be good. Have you seen a doctor or anything?”
She looked down at her neatly rearranged salad: tomatoes and cucumbers on one side, lettuce on the other, dressing “on the side” and still on the side. “Don't worry so much, Caitlin, I'm fine, really I am. You're just imagining things.”
“No,” I said with fresh conviction. “I'm not imagining anything. How much do you weight right now, Jenny?”
She shrugged.
“I know that you know. You probably weighed yourself this morning.”
She still didn't answer.
“Jenny,” I pleaded, “I'm your friend; I want to help.”
Then she looked at me evenly then said, “You can't.”
Well, as weak as it was, it did seem an admission of sorts. “Then who can?”
“I don't know.”
“But do you realize that if you keep this up, you could seriously harm yourself or even die?”
Her eyes looked slightly frightened now. “I know that.”
“But…” I struggled for words. “Is that what you want?”
Eyes downcast, she slowly shook her head.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don't know.”
“Jenny, do your parents know what's going on?”
She kind of laughed at this. “Dad's too busy to notice much of anything, and Mom thinks I'm just fashionably thin. Did you know I can wear size one jeans now?”
I remembered the day at the lake about a month ago. Jenny had never removed her T-shirt from over her swimsuit. And even now she wore a baggy sweater over loose jeans. A great cover-up.
“You've got to let them know, Jen.”
She took in a deep breath. “I can't.”
I reached over and put my hand on her arm. “But Jenny, can you at least admit that you do have a problem?”
Without looking up, her head moved up and down, just barely, and I sighed in relief. “Will you let me help you then?”
“I don't know how you can help, Cate. I mean, it's just not that simple. It's like, I keep telling myself I'll start eating again, but somehow I just can't do it. I try and try. And no matter what I do, I can't.”
Once again, I asked, “Jenny, will you let me help?”
“Thanks for caring, Cate, but it's my problem and I don't know what you can possibly do to change anything.”
“I don't know either, but I want to try. And just so you'll know, I've been praying for you. And so has Beanie.”
She made a little half smile, then spoke in a somewhat condescending tone. “Do you really think that makes any difference, Caitlin? I mean, if I can't help myself, then why would God want to help me? And the truth is, I'm not so sure that I even believe in God.”
Well, I couldn't help myself now (or maybe it was a God-thing), but I just boldly said, “You know, Jenny, for someone who doesn't believe in God, you're sure playing awfully close to the line where you just might find out whether He's real or not.”
That seemed to get to her, and I noticed her eyes getting watery