Part X

392.

Xander just stood on the scale, immobile with shock, staring at the sliding weights that pointed out the dreaded number.  “H-how…” he stuttered.  Eight pounds away, he thought, eight pounds.  At the rate I’m going, I’ll be there within a week or two.  I have to stop this.  He shook his head, bewildered and terrified by what seemed to be the inevitable.  He’d just gained five pounds in a week; how could he ever hope to stop now?

He stepped off the scale, feeling his stomach rumble angrily, demanding sustenance.  It had been almost seven hours since he’d eaten, and he was starving.  No, he told himself.  You can’t eat…you can’t.

Yes, you can, that small voice told him, and you should.  You’re almost there.

“No!” he said out loud, practically crying.  He moved away from the scale, shaking, his gaze flying frantically around the cluttered basement of his dorm, trying desperately to avoid looking down at himself.  How had the guy at the mall known?  He knew that some people were good at guessing weights, but this was ridiculous.  He’d been so sure, so smug about it.  And he’d been right.

Xander climbed the stairs, trying to block out the cacophony of thoughts screaming through his mind.  It didn’t matter how the guy had known: it was bizarre, yes, but what mattered was that he was now only eight pounds away from four hundred, and he had to stop before he surpassed it.  But I’m so hungry, he thought, listening to his stomach growl again.  Maybe…if I just eat a salad…and if I only eat salads from now on…

He made up his mind.  He turned away from the stairs to his floor and, huffing and puffing, exited his dorm, going back to the parking lot.  He squeezed back into his car, trying to forget what a tight fit it was for him, and turned his key in the ignition. 

Just then his phone rang.  He looked at the caller i.d., and, with a little sigh of relief, answered.

“Hey,” he said as he turned out of the parking lot.

“Hi, big brother,” Alexis chirped.  “What on earth did you do to our mother?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s been crying ever since she got home.  And why aren’t you with them?  She texted me a while ago and said that you would be coming home for Christmas after all, but then they show up without you and won’t tell me what happened.”

Xander felt his stomach churn.  “They…” he paused, sighing, “they didn’t really want me to come home.”

The other end was silent for a minute before he heard his sister sigh, too.  “What did they do?”

“They made an appointment for me with dad’s doctor.”

“Doctor Thrace?”

“No…Doctor Fording.”

“Those bastards,” she muttered.  “What did they say?”

“They said that I had to see him, that it was for my own good…you know.  They…we…we went to a restaurant, and I made the mistake of ordering actual food,” he told her, his face blushing in the darkness.

“And they freaked out?”

“Yeah.”

“They’ve been doing that with me a lot lately, too,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice.

“But you’re…you’re not even…” he sputtered.

“Oh, trust me, brother, I’m fat enough to distress them.”

“Lexi…you’re not fat.”

“Xander, I can’t even fit into sixteens anymore,” she told him, her voice wobbling slightly.

He didn’t know what that meant, but he denied it again.

“No, really.  I’ve...gotten bigger…again…since you’ve been gone.”

He was silent for a moment.  “I’m sorry, Lexi.”

“It’s okay,” she said.  “I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t for them.  Jared doesn’t mind.  Nobody else minds, except for them.”

Xander felt anger bubbling in his chest.  “What the fuck is wrong with them?  You’re beautiful, Lexi.  You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Oh, brother.  You’re so sweet.  Honestly, I don’t mind it much…they just really enjoy making me feel like shit.  So…mom was crying because you...?”

 He swallowed hard before answering.  “Yeah,” he said simply.

“A lot?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice cracking slightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.  His sister knew how much his size anguished him.  She’d been witness to the torment his parents put him through all these years, the same torment she was now subject to herself.  “Whatever,” she said defiantly then.  “Don’t listen to them.  You’re fine, Xander.”

“Lexi…”

“No,” she said.  “You’re fine just the way you are, too.  They’re assholes.  Fuck them.  Don’t listen to them.”

He was quiet.

He could hear tears in her voice as she replied.  “I’m sorry, Xander.  I’m so sorry for you.  You don’t deserve this.  You’re so much better than they let you think you are.”

“It’s my fault, Lexi.  Nobody else shoves the food down my throat,” he admitted, swallowing hard.

She sighed.  “So I take it you’re not coming home at all, then?”

“I…I can’t, Lexi.  They'll just make me go to see Dr. Fording, and I just can't.  I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.  I don’t want you to have to put up with that.”

“Maybe I should come home…at least then they’d lay off you for a while.  I’m a much bigger target,” he told her bitterly.

“No.  Stay at school, enjoy it.  I’ll be fine.  I at least have Jared.”

“You guys are still good?”

“Very good,” she told him, the smile back in her voice.  “He’s the best.  He got me a promise ring for Christmas; we went and picked it out last night.”

Xander smiled as he turned into the parking lot of the union building.  “That’s great.  I’m really happy for you, Lexi.  He’s a good guy.”

"He is.  Hey, I'd better go, mom's coming.  I hope you have a good Christmas, Xander.  I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Lexi.  Have a good break.  Maybe I'll come home for a day when they'll be out of town or something," he told her as he pulled into a parking space next to the food court entrance to the union building.

"Okay.  Love you, brother."

"I love you, too, Lexi." 

He hefted himself out of the car and hurried inside, where he was instantly overwhelmed by the delicious smell of temptation.  No, he told himself again.  Just a salad.  He made his way over to the salad bar, gazing over the depressingly low-fat array.

"Now, don't tell me you gon' ignore me for all that lettuce over there, are you?"

He lifted his head and gave Sheriece a little smile and walked over to her counter.  "Hey, Sheriece, how are you?"

"I'm doin' just fine, just fine," she told him.  "But you don't look so good yourself, Xander.  Tell Sheriece now, what's the matter?"

"Ah, it's nothing."

She gave him a look.

"I just...my parents came to see me today," he started.

Her eyes turned sad as she reached across the counter and laid a hand on his fingers.  "Didn't go so well, did it, now."

"You could say that."

"Let me fix you up somethin' real good, sugar, make you feel better."

He shook his head, a lump in his throat.  "Just...just salad tonight, Sheriece."

The woman gazed at him, sadness evident on her expressive face.  "They don't take too kindly to you bein' a big boy now, do they?"

"You could say that," he muttered, blushing.

"You just remember, Xander, ain't nothin' wrong with you just the way you are," she told him, echoing his sister's words.  "No matter what nobody says."

He gave her a tight smile.  "Thanks.  But it's salad for me tonight.  Probably for a while."

"At least let me grill up some chicken to toss on there?" she asked.  "You ain't gon' get no protein from leaves."

He conceded, and she disappeared into the back while he piled lettuce and baby spinach into the plastic salad container he'd grabbed at the end of the salad bar.  He stared longingly at the cheese, croutons, and dressings as he waited for Sheriece, almost caving in and drenching his salad in all the things he really wanted.  But he stopped himself, his hand slipping off the ladle of ranch dressing and falling to his side.

"No dressing, even?" she said as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a sliced, grilled chicken breast.

"I...I shouldn't," he choked out, scooping just a few pieces of chicken on top of his salad.

"Xander, you gon' drive me crazy, seein' you punish yourself this way," Sheriece burst out.  She dumped the rest of the chicken into his container before he could protest.  "You can't be starvin' yourself."

He hung his head, silent.

"Now, look here.  It won't hurt my feelin's if you don't eat my cookin' no more.  But you gon' starve on nothin' but leaves, and starvin' is only gon' make things worse on you, and that's the last thing you need.  You put some hard boiled eggs on there and some croutons and just a lil' bit o' cheese, and drizzle on some oil and vinegar or some o' that low-fat dressing.  You need some protein and a couple carb-o-hydrates, and there ain't no reason it shouldn't taste half decent." 

He just stared at the ground, so Sheriece came out from behind the counter and grabbed his container and put the other ingredients on his salad herself.

"There," she told him, thrusting the container at him.  He could see tears in her eyes.  "Now you give your card here so I can swipe you out."

He obediently handed her his i.d., not saying a word.

"Xander," she pleaded, "you remember what I said, now, you hear?  Ain't nothin' wrong with you just the way you are."

He didn't respond.

"Now, you eat every last bit o' that salad.  Don't you dare let it go to waste.  Alright?"

"Alright," he mumbled, finally breaking his silence.  "Thanks, Sheriece."