Page 107 of Come Apart
She sits at the kitchen table, a serious look on her face. Those thoughts of hers are lying to her again, telling her she's a failure, telling her she's not good enough.
"I love you," I tell her. "No matter what."
I place the box on the table and sit across from her. She stares at it like it's something horrible.
"I can't do it." She presses her fingernails into her palm.
"Why not?"
"I'll be a pathetic failure if I eat one of those stupid fucking cookies. I can't do it." Her eyes are glued to the box. "But I have to. It's too exhausting to stay like this."
She looks to me for confirmation. I nod. We can get through this together.
She opens the box and pulls out the plastic tray. There are a dozen tiny cookies in it. She stares at them, studying them carefully.
"How many do you want?" I ask.
"Two." She swallows hard.
I take two cookies from the plastic and place them on the table.
Her eyes stay on the tray. "Can you put those somewhere else? Somewhere really tall that I can't reach."
"Of course." I repack the box and stuff it in on top of one of the cabinets.
She fidgets. She picks up one cookie and inhales its scent. There's something on her face, a look of wonder, like she can't believe she's actually smelling a cookie.
It's probably been years since she's had one.
She looks to me. It's ashould I?kind of look. I nod and she turns her attention back to the pastry.
She takes the first bite. It's a tiny one, and she spends forever chewing. She keeps her eyes on the plate. She pulls her hand back, breaks the cookie in half.
She takes another bite.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Yeah." She stares at the treat like it mystifies her, like it's a paradox, something that shouldn't exist.
She takes another bite. I offer my hand again, but she ignores it. Something is different about her. She's pulling away, drifting to some other place. It's in her eyes—she's not there. She moves faster, almost frenzied.
I try to keep my mouth shut. This could be part of the process.
But it doesn't seem normal.
She eats the last bite and looks at her empty hands. She's mystified by them, like she doesn't know where the cookie went.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
She snaps out of whatever it is. "Yeah."
"You seem lost."
"I'm fine." She won't hold my gaze. She's somewhere else, closing off.
I lean closer. "Talk to me."
"I don't want to."
