A/N: CONTENT WARNING: discussion of a past eating disorder.
I don't usually do this, but I just felt like I should add this, because there's a discussion about a past eating disorder about halfway through this chapter for a few paragraphs. There are no graphic details and I don't really go into many specifics, but the character explains their feelings about the situation and some of what they went through. This has been on my mind since I wrote this chapter, and maybe what I wrote is not as big a deal as I'm making it out to be. But I'd rather be overdramatic than to ever make anyone uncomfortable or upset by something I write. I really do cherish each and every one of you who reads my work. It means so much to me that anyone wants to spend time in these worlds that I create. So better safe than sorry.
I added asterisks (*) before and after that section so you can skip that part if you want.
As night fell, children traded bubble wands for sparklers, chasing each other around, pretending to be wizards and fairies. Most of the elderly people left by duskâincluding Mr. and Mrs. Meeks. Families and couples gathered on blankets, readying for the show. A crowd of teenagers hung at the dark edges of the parking lot, sneaking cans of beer and cigarettes, pretending to be too cool for this. Carl was among them, his arm dangling around a pretty girl.
Mom found me and Elian just as we left the trolly cart for Olde Sam's Sweet Shop with our bowls of homemade ice cream. I insisted we needed it for the firework viewing experience. He agreed.
Mom handed me a tote bag.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"I packed you a blanket so you don't have to sit on the grass or dirt to watch the show. I knew you'd forget. You always do."
"Not always." I was slightly offended.
She cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "Always."
"Whatever." I mumbled, taking a bite of my chocolate ice cream.
At the same time, Elian said, "Thank you."
"You are welcome, Elian." She glanced at me. "Not so much you."
Elian snickered and wrapped his arm around mine, leaning his head on my shoulder.
"I'll see you boys later. Ray and I are heading home."
"You aren't watching the show?" I asked.
"I've seen it every year for thirty-six years. I can skip one." She covered her mouth and let out a loud yawn. "Besides, I've been up since four this morning to finish the brownies."
"They were delicious." Elian said. "I wish there were some more. They'd go great with this ice cream."
She patted his shoulder. "There's a whole pan back at home. I always make some for Stevie to keep. You're more than welcome to them."
Elian smiled and looked at me. "If that's the case, I might have to spend the night at your place for once."
"Goodnight, Mom." I stepped forward to put one arm around her, since Elian occupied the other. I was careful not to spill my ice cream on her. Not so much because I worried about it getting it on her as I didn't want to have to wait in line again for more. It was about thirty people long now.
She squeezed me. "Goodnight, honey." Releasing me, she rubbed Elian's shoulder. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
"Night." he mumbled around the giant glob of ice cream he'd just shoved in his mouth.
"Stevie, can you come here for a second?"
I glanced at Elian and slipped away. Mom pulled me a few feet further from him. "I'm going to Ray's place, so you'll have the trailer to yourself if you want to take Elian home after the show."
"He was kidding about that."
She shrugged. "I'm just saying. It'll be empty if you want it."
I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."
"Have fun." she said. She waved to Elian and walked over to Ray, taking his hand. Despite the way I found out, I was glad she had him. She deserved a great guy.
When I returned to Elian, he said, "Your mom is so sweet."
I had to laugh. "More like intrusive." I told him what she said. "I wish she'd just butt out."
We linked arms and went in search of a nice spot.
"You're lucky," he said. "At least she's open with you about everything. My mom would probably rather stick needles in her eyes than discuss sex with me. She's such a prude. My dad isn't much better. Instead of the sex talk, when I was fifteen, he came into my room, tossed a box of condoms on the bed, and just said, 'Don't get anybody pregnant.' Then he just left. That was before I was out, obviously."
I laughed. "That sounds awful."
Elian shrugged. "Honestly, it was barely a blip on my radar at the time. I had a lot going on that year."
"What do you mean?" I asked, handing him my bowl once we chose a spot. It was far enough away from the crowd and noise that we could enjoy the show in peace.
"Just identity issues." he said, watching me spread the blanket on the ground. "The whole gay thing. Dealing with my life feeling out of my control. And the terrible ways I was trying to regain that control."
"Like what?" I asked as we sat down and got comfortable. He so rarely opened up like this. I wanted him to keep going.
****
Elian swallowed hard, making his Adam's apple jump up and down. He looked up at me. "I developed an eating disorder when I was fourteen."
A jolt shot through my chest. And not because of the explosion of fireworks that just went off. I didn't know if the feeling was from panic, sadness, or concern. A mix of all three.
"It wasn't a vanity thing. I never had body dysmorphia or anything like that." he said, his voice low. Red light blossomed across his face. "Food was one of the few things I felt like I had complete control over. Only I got to decide what I put in my body. There came a time when I barely put anything in it, and if I did, I didn't keep it down long. It got really bad, and I got really sickâphysically and mentally. Somehow, I managed to hide it for like five months, until one day I passed out at school."
A kaleidoscope of lightsâpurple, white, greenâwashed over him, sparkling in his eyes as he took a break from speaking to eat some of his ice cream. I had a feeling he was trying to hold in his emotions; his voice had started to crack before he paused.
"When my parents found out, they put me in a rehab." he said. "When I got out, I had to go to therapy every week for almost a year, then like every other week for a while after that."
"Wow." It seemed like a stupid thing to say, but I had no words.
"My doctor helped me realize that if I didn't accept myself and share my truth with the people who loved me, I'd never get better. So with her help, I came out to my family. This immense weight lifted. I mean, I still had a lot of bad habits that took a long time to break, but I felt better saying the words out loud. Luckily, my parents were very supportive. They just wanted me to get healthy again."
****
His story made a lot of things about him snap into place for me. "That's why you don't like lying." I guessed aloud.
Elian pointed his spoon at me as he was bathed in blue light. "That would be it."
He placed his bowl on the blanket. He raised his arm and pushed his sleeve up to show the words veritas sanat tattooed on his inner bicep. I'd noticed it many times, but never thought much about it. "I got this when I stopped going to therapy so regularly, just as a reminder to myself."
"Is that Spanish?" I asked, clueless to the meaning. I took French in high school because one of my crushes was taking it. Though I remembered very little of it because my school only required one semester of a foreign language.
"It's Latin." he said, sounding slightly exasperated. "It means the truth heals."
Setting my empty bowl aside on the grass, I crawled over to sit by his side, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He put his arms around me and buried his face in my neck.
"Thank you for telling me." I said.
He kissed a spot beneath my jaw. "Thank you for making me feel comfortable enough that I wanted to tell you."
The meaning behind his mountain tattoo made a lot more sense now.
I had the sudden urge to tell him I loved him, but I held my tongue. It was far too soon for that kind of declaration. Also, I didn't want it to seem like I was only saying it because he told me his story. I could wait.
After we finished our dessert, we laid on our backs and stared up at the fireworks. I put my arm out and he rested his head on it, reaching his hand up to take my hand, lacing our fingers together. We didn't speak again for the rest of the show. We didn't really need to. It reminded me of our night under the stars. As the explosions of color lit the sky, I wished for a lifetime of nights just like this.