Page 22 of Guy's Girl
She glances helplessly about her room. An empty Nalgene sitson her desk. Able to think of nothing else, she unscrews the lid. Presses its lip to hers. Then she pushes slightly with the muscles of her throat, and—
A quietsplish-splish-splishas chunks of barely digested food drop to the bottom of the Nalgene. She peers inside. The food is thick and viscous, a corpse just beginning to deteriorate. It isn’t long before she feels more knocking at the door.
It takes six pushes. Six pushes, six splashes, a snake of stomach acid slithering headfirst out of her mouth. Her food reborn. Pooling at the bottom of her water bottle. It’s so easy. Too easy.There’s something wrong with me, she realizes.Acid reflux?
When her stomach feels empty, she holds out the Nalgene and stares at the yellow-brown mush caking its insides. She supposes she’ll have to wash it out later.
Before anyone can see it, she stuffs the bottle into her backpack and zips it all the way shut.
***
There is no lull between anorexia and bulimia for Ginny, no respite. She transitions from one to the other as seamlessly as the passing of a baton. Life as a relay race run by many flavors of mental illness.
It’s Monday again. Adrian is editing his fifth spreadsheet of the afternoon when his phone buzzes. He flips it over, expecting a text from Ginny. Instead, it’s an email. Not to his corporate account—to his personal.
SUBJ: [DELPHIC] Analysts wanted—come work at Disney!
Adrian’s heart starts thudding in his ears. He glances over his shoulder to see if his associate is nearby. She isn’t. He swallows a glob of spit and clicksopen.
Hi all,
Writing to let you know about an opportunity to come work for Disney in international strategy. Full job description below. I’ve worked here since graduation, and I can’t think of a better...
“Texting your girlfriend?” comes a voice over Adrian’s shoulder.
Adrian jumps, fumbling with his phone. It slips from his fingers and tumbles onto the carpet. “Shit.” He dives under the desk. When he pops back up, he finds Chad, the analyst who sits one desk over, lingering behind his chair, Chopt salad in hand.
Chad cocks an eyebrow. “It’s okay, dude. We all watch porn at work.”
Adrian’s cheeks color. “I wasn’t—”
“Yeah, whatever. I won’t tell if you won’t.” He winks and whacks Adrian’s shoulder.
Adrian sighs, slumping back into his chair. He doesn’t bother reading the rest of the email. Too risky. It’ll have to wait until he gets back to his studio. He lays the phone facedown on his desk and tries to sink back into Excel.
When Ginny returns to her apartment after work that day, exhausted and drained, she walks in the front door and finds Finch lounging on the forest green sofa.
“Oh.” She sets her backpack on the floor. “Hi.”
He waves one hand. “Hi.”
“Back from class already?”
“Lecture rarely goes past four o’clock.” He points at the open textbook on the coffee table. “Clay and Tristan work until all hours of the night. So.”
“I see.”
“So it’s just you and me.”
Ginny knew when she agreed to move in with the boys that she would spend plenty of time with Finch. She just hadn’t counted on that time being spent alone, with neither of their other friends as a buffer.
“You hungry?” she asks. “I’m making stir-fry for dinner.”
“Sure.”
She lines up a row of onions beside a pot of boiling water. Reviews the steps.
First: peel.
