“Do you go to college?” I ask.
“No. I want to maybe one day. I’ve been busy.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a model,” she says, sounding shy about that.
“I thought you looked like a model!”
“It’s not what you think,” she warns. “It’s my feet. Shoes, that kind of thing. Not my face. Not my body. Not the rest of it.” Kelly sits up and shows off her hands. The cuticles of each finger is red and inflamed. They look painful. “I can’t stop picking.”
“Geez.”
“I’ve been trying to work out so that I can maybe be a real model,” she says.
“You’re already a model,” I assure her.
She eyes my hands and sighs. “I think just about everyone wishes they had something of someone else’s.”
“You want my hands?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes.”
“But my nails—”
“Nails are easily fixed,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Manicures.”
“I’ve never had one.”
“Never? I haven’t had one since prom. I keep saying that if I stop picking, I’ll get one, but I can’t find the motivation to stop.”
“Book an appointment,” I suggest.
Kelly grins. “Fine, but it’ll be a two-fer. You and me.”
“I would love that.”
“Me too. It might have to be rescheduled if I can’t stop,” she warns.
“Give me your number. When you want to pick, text me.”
“Like a sponsor?”
I nod. “And I can text you when I want to binge.”
Her eyes widen. “I tried to starve myself once. I didn’t last very long. I thought that maybe if I lost more weight, I would be a real model—”
“You are a real model,” I say again.
“Yes, well, I don’t have the drive to actually do I, so what does that say about my willpower?”
“Um, having an eating disorder isn’t a good thing,” I point out.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make light.” She winces. “I can be so awkward at times! You can text me when you need help. Mine is a habit thing, though. How do I break the habit?”
Maybe put on a loose ring and when you reach for your nails, twist the ring on your finger instead?” I suggest.
“Oh, that might work. I can do that. What about you? What can you do when you want to binge? Aside from calling me, that is.”