Track 11: Touch of Grey

1.

Being hungry was not a new feature of Amber’s life, though it was one that Amber had enjoyed a shifting relationship with.

Starting somewhere in the middle to late pre-operational stage of her youth, hunger became an occasional and early form of punishment, as in, she’d sometimes been sent to bed without dinner.

Then as a teenager hunger became a complicated sensation when encountered, her dysphoria quietly whispering contextless (and utterly baseless) claims that she was somehow too big in all the wrong ways, even as her dad reminded her over and over of her failure to achieve any significant masculine growth.

After her egg cracked and her funds had become so limited, it had at first become a reminder of all she had lost, as in, her stomach had been more full before Christmas, but then blissfully it had mutated once more, as she caught a few of the changes the hormones brought about; the hunger became a signifier of transformation; growing more feminine, growing more appropriate.

She slowly began to find its presence less intrusive, even forgettable, and when she did notice it felt like a high five, like a hug, like a glowing success; her body carving itself into a better version of Amber, the best version of Amber, the version of Amber that needed to be her; a reassurance that if the pangs remained, if she worked hard like she did in school, she would be rewarded by the disappearance of this failed experiment and replaced by a version of Amber that everyone liked and would feel affection for, especially those she herself loved.

It was not a particularly long fall from there, to incorporating the contrast, what would happen if she ate too much.

The problem had been there when Amber met Simon, still of the many affects her boyfriend had on her, moving in with him had at first delayed things, providing her a new routine, a new role to play, thus returning her to semi-regular meals; at this point while many of the same mechanisms were engaged, things had not quite deteriorated as far as they were capable of.

She was watching her weight constantly and exercising, but she was also eating regularly, balancing carefully for Simon, avoiding eating too much, not wanting him to see her as unladylike or unsightly, while also not wanting to seem ungrateful for his kindness.

However, by the time Amber stepped onto the Mellor/Lockmann doorstep, these dangerous psychological processes had already been ramping back up, she’d slowly tapered her meal sizes back down, always watching for Simon to notice the reduction, to disapprove in some way.

He hadn’t.

Two days prior to the day she’d met Madaline she’d stood in the mirror looking at her perfectly flat stomach and thought about what Tom and Cynthia would think of her when they saw her, a minor anxiety attack started and when she got herself calmed down, she quickly determined that exercise wasn’t enough and she needed to actually become serious about dieting again.

In medical reality, by this point Amber’s doctor had repeatedly noted that she was just slightly underweight, not quite to the point of alarm as it had remained stable and he didn’t have the ability to witness her lust filled/adversarial relationship with a cookie or half of a sandwich offered by a tall lesbian.

Amber found the concept of herself being underweight utterly laughable, by this point, much like being a lesbian, being underweight was something others could be and they should really eat more or they might get sick, but it wasn’t something she could see herself as.

In the weeks after her arrival, Madaline had sensed a problem and by sensed we of course mean she used her eyes to see Amber’s behavior, she’d softly intervened with a moderate amount of success.

But this success had not dealt with the core problem, nothing had been fixed, the deterioration had only been somewhat delayed once more.

As the initial phase of their relationship drew closer to its end, Amber began counting the “cost” of her time with Madaline, which she thought of in terms of gains, so she doubled down, fighting against her own hunger to get back on her diet, doing so just as Madaline determined that further intervention would be necessary.

It's easy to see how this might lead to conflict.

2.

Saturday Afternoon- Three days after Madaline’s Consult:

Amber was feeling very good about today, very light, very successful. She’d had a breakfast composed of carrots and yoga. She’d vacuumed and cleaned the windows and now she was sitting on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee, chewing her way through Jekyll and Hyde, glancing at the clock with every page turn, eagerly awaiting Madaline’s return from her evening out.

In spite of her intent to pace herself she’d been swallowing up Stephenson’s little monster tale, thoughtlessly gobbling up the words, and she was quickly nearing the conclusion of what was already a very short book.

With every day, and from both sides of my intelligence, the moral and the intellectual, I thus drew steadily nearer to the truth, by whose partial discovery I have been doomed to such a dreadful shipwreck: that man is not truly one, but truly two, Amber was reading through the line for a third time, committing it to memory, sucking the marrow out of the words when the vibrations from Madaline’s car’s speakers signaled her arrival.

Awash with excitement, Amber immediately got up and checked herself in the mirror on the wall.

Her hair was a mess, she’d been running her hand through it as she’d read, she quickly put it back in order, before smoothing out her sweater and sitting back on the couch with her book.

Madaline came in the door, gently singing to the music she’d killed when she’d cut the engine, “ Everywhere I go, I have her picture in my pocket…”

“Hey Madaline,” said Amber, putting her book back down with a wave.

“Hey princess,” Madaline waved, hanging her coat, and unzipping her boots. She was still in her leather pants and a black tank top that showed flashes of her abs when she moved just right.

While Madaline always looked great, Amber really thought she always somehow looked her best when she’d just come back from her Friday outings; disheveled, her skin flushed, her hair frazzled, her eyes extra shiny, as though wherever she went on Friday’s included a magic well that she drank from each week, rejuvenating herself.

Now, she’d grab a coffee, and chat with Amber, though never specifically about what she'd done the previous evening, there was always this curtain around that, one which she and Amber mostly pretended wasn’t there.

After her coffee Madaline would go get fresh clothes and head to the shower and when she came back they would discuss what they were doing today.

Amber was nothing short of elated with expectation for the handful of hours ahead, and just so very happy to have her back, Madaline, after all, made everything better.

Anticipating this routine, Amber hopped up and got Madaline a cup of coffee, dumping a metric ton of milk and sugar in it.

It was ready by the time Madaline stepped into the kitchen.

“Sweet of you, thanks,” she sipped and declared it perfect.

Amber received a little firework burst of joy from the approval, followed by a half second of mild confusion as Madaline broke the routine and headed into the silverware drawer, extracting a pair of forks.

When the drawer was closed, Amber, at last, noticed the paper sack Madaline had brought in with her, cascading horror quickly followed comprehension.

No, no, not again.

Madaline took her coffee, the forks and the bag to the table.

Amber stood still, trying to will herself invisible so she could get back out of the kitchen, back to the safety of her book where she would be more than likely to remain in control.

“Lunchtime,” Madaline said as though it were nothing and not a serious interruption to the usual wonderful run of things. She pulled out two sealed bowls, before turning and curling her fingers at Amber, setting one of the bowls at the seat across from her.

“Um, I’m not-,” Amber began as Madaline popped the lid off of the bowl on Amber’s side before moving back to hers, sitting down.

The scent hit, Amber looked at the dish waiting, steam drifting into the air, making her whole body seize with anguished pangs, it did not at all feel like getting a high five, the way it was supposed to.

Why?

Madaline was no longer asking if she was hungry or offering her food, as she often had in the past, now she just bought or made her food and set it out including silverware, like Amber was her pet, a thought that gave Amber very mixed feelings that she neither appreciated, nor found helpful.

Amber took a deep breath, and started to walk past the table, still trying to sneak her way back to the relative safety of the living room. “Thanks but I'm not- I'm good, I just ate a little bit ago.”

“Okay, well, sit with me would you? I haven't seen you since yesterday.”

Something tickled at the back of Amber’s brain and for a moment the hunger was totally forgotten, as were her complicated feelings about Madaline, this was weird right? Cause hadn’t Madaline said that yesterday and the day before, like Madaline was working from a script that Amber was following along with even though she hadn’t seen it, only slightly modified for Madaline’s return from her evening out.

I should just say no this time.

But of course, it ended exactly the same way it had the previous times, it ended with Amber sitting, suffering, across from Madaline, because of course it did, how could she say no to the idea that Madaline had missed her, had maybe thought of her while she was doing… whatever it was Madaline did to blow off steam.

She hated this; Madaline made everything better except this, Madaline was ruining hunger for her.

It’s an unintentional harm that earlier in the week Amber could not have predicted, hunger was in spite of some minor discomfort supposed to feel like she was doing a good job, and before Madaline that had been enough to numb any infantile whining from her stomach as her body transformed into the shape she needed it to be, but Madaline’s presence robbed her of that, which just left Amber with the aches and the need and the temptation, because of Madaline hunger hurt once again, because of Madaline hunger hurt worse than ever.

This is terrible, this is hell, I’m in hell. Amber’s brain moaned.

Amber decided it was best to just grip the seat of the chair as Madaline ate, repeatedly reassuring herself that Madaline would finish soon and then this would be over and the rest of the day would be fine, no in fact it would be good, just like it had been yesterday.

She gazed down into the bowl of mac and cheese, dusted with breadcrumbs, the back of her brain calculating a minimum of 700 calories, but that was probably a conservative estimate. Salt. carbs, grease, calories, fat, fat, fat. Just it's presence made her feel heavy, like smelling it was adding pounds.

Madaline having lunch around 2:30 wasn’t new, she usually came down and got something and took it back up with her to keep working, but her coming down, setting the table and asking Amber to join her, that was new.

Thursday with sandwiches had been bad; bread, cheese, meat, tomato, lettuce, bread, as constructed by Madaline, barbecue potato chips on the side, but Amber had gotten through that. Mostly, she’d eaten a quarter, indulging a little as Madaline had suggested.

But then chicken strips from the oven on Friday afternoon and just… no… she’d turned Madaline down, sitting across from her as she ate, talking to her, then happily, gratefully, packing her leftover portion up when it was time for Madaline to go put in another ninety minutes of work before clocking out for the day.

Amber had discreetly, and a little guiltily, disposed of it as she made dinner.

But this, Mac and Cheese, was so much worse, not because of the dish itself, but because of what it implied, because this was the third day in a row and three things were a trend and now she could see, a succession of days ahead where upon each afternoon Madaline stopped her work or arrived back from her night, then cooked or ordered something and called Amber to lunch. Indulgence as Madaline had suggested was one thing, but this wasn’t that, this was adding a meal that Amber didn’t need, that Amber couldn’t afford.

In spite of intending to trade the sandwich on Thursday for the snacks in the evening, Madaline had brought the Hydrox back out and had convinced Amber once more to indulge. Meaning there was no chance that Madaline’s urgings to indulge in the evening would be discontinued if Amber ate the mid-day meal.

It was a troubling pattern that had grown nearly ominous with the repetition of Madaline luring Amber to the table, not that she'd had to do more than cast a line. If Amber was a fish, she'd have jumped in Madaline's boat the second the hook hit the water.

Why was it so hard to say no, when had she become so weak? She’d never viewed herself as particularly strong willed, but since the start of her transition her diet had always been under some form of careful control and now Madaline was taking time, not only (almost) every night, but every day as well to knock out the support pillars from her resolve.

The one good thing about Madaline's absences was the lack of temptation, when Madaline went out, things returned to their manageable state and no calories were consumed after 6:30 P.M.

Not that I want her gone more often, she thought quickly, And I'm also not saying she should always stay in to hang out with me, even if my weight wasn’t an issue, that's not what I'm saying either.

No, no,that would be silly, she shouldn't have to stay here with you, the familiar unfamiliar voice cajoled.

Right, that's what I mean- I'm not saying that, Amber thought, her own internal voice growing slightly more dismal.

Of course not, she should take you with her.

Amber ignored the voice, she shouldn't have engaged it. It seemed to be showing up more and more when she got like this.

Amber smiled pleasantly, pouring more focus on to her friend, trying to keep her eyes off the food in front of her, limiting avenues of temptation.

Madaline continued to eat, not hurrying, enjoying herself, telling Amber a story about her eighteenth birthday.

It didn’t take Amber long to notice the red and blue bruise on Madaline’s collarbone and once she had, she couldn't stop herself from looking at it.

She was fairly certain she knew what it was, but she could prevent herself from thinking about it, even still, it made her feel funny, kind of like sick, but not in any way that reduced her body’s delusion of starvation. Actually, if anything, after a few minutes, it seemed to somehow make things worse.

She kept her responses to Madaline’s stories to a minimum, her mouth seemed to be producing so much saliva that she was worried if she kept her lips open too long it would all come running out onto the table, totally mortifying herself..

Over ten minutes she counted the number of times she grew very close to picking up the fork and eating: four times, four times tempted and four times she’d beaten it.

Amber imagined a chalkboard, with a big T on it, turning her ordeal into a game, each time she beat the temptation, she scratched herself a point on the left side of the T under her name, the right side featured neither name nor, for now, any points.

Four, I have four points, she told herself.

The points didn’t make her feel particularly good, didn’t numb the hunger, but it stripped the complicated thoughts and emotions down into black and white simplicity. Amber was playing a game against herself, she could be a winner or a loser, one or the other, she needed all the points to win, and only one to fall on the other side of the chalk divider for her to loose. Simple and easy.

She thought of a line she’d heard yesterday, while reading in Madaline’s room not long after beating that afternoon’s trial, sung or rather screamed by a vocalist in the climactic track of what Madaline informed her was one of her absolute favorite albums of all time: "I know nothing of God, but I know I am the enemy."

Amber had found both the line and hectic screaming sound of the words strangely relatable, in a way she wouldn’t ever admit out loud.

Another three minutes, she was up to five points.

Backing away from the edge once more, she felt the urge to move the food around as she often did or to tear up the napkin Madaline had laid out from the bag, but the hunger was bad and she was afraid if she let go of her seat, her hands might start shoveling food in her mouth even as she screamed at them to stop, so she held tight. It would be over soon and then the rest of the day lay ahead.

Amber was winning, she needed to keep winning… and, yet, god, even when she was doing right, she was the worst. She knew she was being awkward, Madaline was trying to be nice, like Madaline always was and Amber was making things weird, just sitting quietly, barely responding.

She probably thinks I’m ungrateful.

It wasn’t fair, because Amber absolutely wasn’t ungrateful, she was so grateful, more grateful maybe than she was capable of expressing, she was grateful for the act in itself, that Madaline had thought of her, but the specific reality wasn’t what she needed, it was, in fact, the antithesis of what she needed.

It was all so frustrating and, her mind once more circled back to Madaline for three days calling her to the table in the same way… it was also kind of weird, why was this weird?

Why did it feel like ever since she’d really committed to getting back in control of herself that suddenly the deck was stacked against her in a way it just never had been before, even post Madaline’s move in, suddenly the entire situation was just… it would be so much easier, so much less exhausting to just give in.

I need to figure out how to handle this, as much as I’d like to I can’t keep sitting with her through every lunch or I’m going to keep caving, it just keeps getting worse, why is it getting worse, what’s wrong with me?

For two years she’d done well for much of the time and then Madaline had come in and her vital self management program, one of the few things Amber was good at, seemed to be breaking or broken and she couldn’t understand why it was such a struggle when she was so committed, it had always worked in the past.

Yes, it was Madaline in part. Madaline trying to be a good friend. Amber thought of what she’d told Simon about how a storm front has no malice and now, in no way she could have expected, she was on the end of it.

It was weird, because… because, Madaline always listened to her, always heard her and… hadn’t, just a few days ago, a little before these lunchtime sit downs began, hadn't Amber explained things to Madaline, about her dietary situation following her parents… disowning her, about how it was okay cause she’d needed to loose weight anyway and… Madaline had come back with encouraging her to eat snacks, indulging and then…

A cookie here and there to reward herself, to make Madaline happy, that was one thing, but… this didn’t feel like that. That had been manageable, and enjoyable, but Madaline had increased her… it was almost like… it was almost like…

Amber’s brain gave a horrible little jolt as the pieces that had been knocking around inside her began clicking together. She imagined the blackboard on which she was keeping score, she imagined the oppositional side filling with points, she imagined the oppositional side labeled with a name.

She’d gotten it wrong, she hadn’t been playing against herself, not totally, no, she’d been playing against…

That makes no sense… why would she be…

Amber’s mind whirrred and hummed, she couldn’t imagine any benefit to Madaline from getting her to eat more, not to this degree, not to the point of sabotaging Amber’s diet.

Then for just a moment Madaline stopped in her story, looking long at Amber, “You should really eat, princess, it's really good,” her voice suddenly low and intoxicating.

It wasn’t as bad as when she did it at night, still the words smacked into Amber’s stomach and she almost obeyed. She clutched her seat tighter, swallowing all the spit in her mouth before answering, “I’m good, right now, I had a big breakfast, you know, I’ll save mine for later.”

“Okay,” said Madaline. She flipped her fork around in her fingers, rubbing her palms together, her face was blank, unreadable, but then for a second something, her brows creased, just slightly, and it gave her a particular, if subtle, look, it was just a little flash, there and gone.

She’s angry, no, that’s not angry, when she’s irritated or angry, she always cracks her fingers or knuckles, what was that? Concern? Maybe even fear?

Madaline flipped her fork back around, and continued eating, sipping her coffee, luxuriating in her noodles, strings of melted white cheese, curling onto the fork. Amber found herself fixated on those little strings, spiderweb thin and perhaps nearly as captivating in that moment as Madaline herself.

After a minute, Amber yanked her eyes away, catching on the bruise again instead.

“Sorry, what was I saying?” Madaline asked.

Amber blinked and flitted through her mind desperately, to keep from appearing as though anything was wrong. She recalled the story Madaline had been telling her: Eighteenth birthday, Friday afternoon after school, a list of names of people she didn’t know, Madaline had skipped, left school early. Hiding out in…

“You were hiding out in, um, Paulina’s garage, waiting for school to be over… Riviere. Paulina was in Riviere which was two towns over, you didn't have your car.”

“Right, thanks,” Madaline pointed an elbow of a noodle on her fork at Amber, she might as well have stabbed her in the gut with it. “So, I'm at Paulina's, it's like 3:30, school gets out and a bunch of her friends start showing up and me and Estelle, we’ve just met these people, but they’re... really friendly, they’ve decided they're taking us out, we're going to this show at Basement 18, which between you and me was not a legal venue then and it still isn’t now, but there’s eight of us and we’ve only got… ah… Qamar’s car, six seater, its a three hour drive we want to get there a couple hours early, prep time, right. Show starts at nine, there’s not enough seats, so we draw straws for who’s going in the trunk, pit stop half way, then two others take a turn… I have the worst luck.”

“You’re really tall,” Amber said, trying to contribute, “I mean… like tight fit, you and someone else.”

“No, it was actually pretty comfy, it was an old car, really roomy trunk, tight but cozy, only it pissed me off cause I couldn't DJ what was basically my own birthday party. Still there’s worse ways to spend part of your birthday than being stuck in a trunk with a gorgeous enby for an hour,” Madaline gave her a little grin.

“Yeah… that sounds fun.”

“They were. Unfortunately, we only got to be there for half the time.”

Amber pulled her eyes away from the bruise, it was making thinking even harder again. Her gaze fell back onto her own bowl of mac and cheese as Madaline went on with her story of tooling down the highway in a car filled with a gaggle of queer people she’d just met. A wistful feeling passed through her heart, almost like longing, it didn’t last, she was far more interested in the expression that had passed over Madaline’s face.

Scared? Afraid? Why would me eating later make her scared? If that’s what that was… what would she have to be- All at once, Amber’s hunger collapsed, her mind snapped up the answer and it was so absurd that she almost wanted to laugh, but its full meaning spread fast across her brain like mold in all the crevices and lines, converting hilarity to panic in seconds…

Bad bad very bad, need to fix this, now. I have to-

Madaline was still going on with what would usually be a story that Amber would hang on to, due simply to the difference from her own experiences and of course, the storyteller herself.

“So I was in the trunk with Riley when we got pulled over, don’t even hear the sirens cause they’re blasting Lady Gaga, pretty sure it was on Americano when the car stopped, anyway me and Riley don’t know what’s going on, we just know we’ve stopped, so we start pounding on the inside demanding that Qumar let us out, being bitches, then the trunk lock pops, I push it open, jumping out to fuck with them and the next thing I know, I’m being slammed on the pavement by two badgers. It was so fucking stup- are you okay? I’ve never seen you… look at me like that?”

Amber told herself to be calm, she told herself to breathe deep and slow, she told herself that she needed to wait and make a plan and manage this correctly, because this was a very very dangerous spot to be in and she couldn't afford to freak out and blow everything by loosing control, but none of that mattered, she could feel her self unzipping, she was coming undone in a way she likely wouldn’t if she were in this situation with anyone else, all because of Madaline, all because it’s Madaline. It's Madaline who thinks…

“I’m not stupid, you think something is wrong with me!” Her voice is pitched wrong, too high, too panicked.

Stop stop stop shut up, you need to wait, to think.

Madaline's head went back just slightly, but she didn't respond right away, she set her fork down and rubbed her palms together once more, clasping her hands, she glanced away from Amber for a moment and back. “No, I don’t think you’re stupid, Amber, in fact I kind of get the feeling that you might be the smartest person in a lot of the rooms you go into.” She followed with a little smile and a laugh, clearly meant more to try to diffuse some of Amber’s distress than actually finding anything amusing.

For Amber’s part, she couldn’t tell if that was a genuine comment, an excuse to kick Simon or both and she couldn’t even start trying to parse that, nothing else mattered other than the immediate horror of the situation, def com one, Rome burning, an emergency of apocalyptic proportions.

Madaline was still speaking, “Which of course includes this one.” She rubbed her palms, “But, I didn’t say anything about…”

Amber knew she should let her finish, she hadn't said anything that can’t be taken back yet, what she’d said could be accountable to any number of excuses, she could blame it on a panic attack and come back to this after making a plan. Madaline was always so supportive and understanding about her odd behavior and anxiety issues after all, she could use that to play this off and find a way to deal with both the social faux pas and the actual threat and that is exactly what she should do, it's what she tells herself to do, but her mouth won’t listen to the sensible part of her brain, the part speaking cool reason inside the whirlwind.

“But you do, you think- you think I’m anorexic.” She couldn’t help it, each word got higher and louder as she went until anorexic almost approached a soft yell.

The fingers on one of Amber's hands wrenched themselves free from the bottom of the chair and began scratching at the arm of her sweater.

No, no, don’t do that you’ll look even crazier. Her hand only slowed, it didn’t stop.

See, it’s pointless, I just- she’s just going to deny it.

Madaline looked away, licked her lips, looked back, spreading her fingers at Amber, like trying to sooth a frightened animal. “Right, you’re…I can see… just take a deep breath for me okay.”

Air filled Amber’s lungs, she held it, trying to get her brain to cease it's frantic scrambling so that damage control might properly commence, it wasn’t too late, because it couldn’t be too late.

The second hand of the clock on the wall swung around it's circumference, once, then a third of the way again, until distantly, she picked up the thread of Madaline's voice speaking to her:

“Right, princess that's good, Amber that's- ," she placed her hands on the table, beginning to rise, "Amber- Breathe out.”

Breath whooshed back out of Amber's lips, her mind had slowed marginally, glittering stars hung in the air.

Madaline rested herself back in her seat. “Okay, good, take it easy, just don't hold it so long again, okay?"

"Kay," Amber whispered, her head was so very light and, why couldn't this just not be happening?

Madaline nodded, "I’m going to respond to what you said, but I need a minute before I do. Can I have that?”

A harsh laugh emerged from Amber’s throat, “What? Yeah? Sure.”

Madaline nodded, she picked her phone up off the table and hopped on.

Amber watched her, she wasn’t messaging, she was looking something up. After maybe ninety seconds, she clicked it off and set it aside. “No, Amber, I don’t think you are anorexic.”

Confusion mingled with relief inside Amber.

“Exactly,” she agreed, “I’m not.”

Madaline held up a finger and spoke very carefully, “By my eyes you have most of the… traits, but you’re not… thin enough yet. You’re not sick, like that… like physically… yet, but I think it could go that way if some things don’t change.”

Not thin enough, yes, that’s right… not yet, but I can fix it. I’m fixing myself… why don’t you understand, please.

“Yo-you don’t understand.”

Madaline nodded, “I know, that’s why I talked to somebody whose field is at least next door to this... kind of thing, she agrees that the behavior I see from you is not good, dangerous in the long run.”

“I’m not sick… You… you talked to someone about me?”

“One of my friends, a good friend, trustworthy, actually she’s, well that doesn’t matter now, but yeah, she’s, ah, getting her doctorate in psychology.”

“I- I’m.. your friend with a medical problem?”

“I didn’t tell her who you are, she doesn’t know anything else about you.”

Torrents of emotion boiled through Amber, twisting, swirling, cycloning. It was an uplifting idea that Madaline had mentioned her to one of her friends, but about this, no, absolutely not. The one saving grace was that Amber’s name wasn’t tied up with Madaline’s friend with a medical problem for anyone else. If by some circumstance Madaline ever decided to introduce them, Amber would safely be able to try to make a good first impression, untainted by Madaline’s, well-meaning, misunderstanding.

“Amber, listen, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying- I mean… I’m not. I have nothing to be ashamed of because dieting and what… pre-anorexia? Those aren't the same thing.”

Another mistake. She shouldn’t have said it that way, Amber swore the room was swaying like she was on a ship tipping side to side. I have to get under control, I have to get under control, I have to get under control.

Madaline sighed and flicked her thumb over the bridge of her nose, before beginning to read from her phone, “Excessive, obsessive dieting is often indicative of an eating disorder.”

“Well, well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I have one. I just have to-” Shut up, shut up, I need to shut up, I’m talking myself away from where I need to be.

She took several deep breaths, each held longer than the last.

“Amber,” Madaline said, not allowing her to go so long this time.

Amber breathed normally, holding up her hand, asking for her own moment to collect herself.

Amber forced herself to stop scratching, appearing distraught, appearing upset was usually inappropriate, but here it was a death sentence. Instead of the food and the bruise, a glint of metal in the light, Amber moved her gaze where she should have targeted it before, focusing on each of the silver nail like studs in Madaline’s earlobes.

They provided Amber a new perspective, a novel solution for so many of her problems. She’d thought a few times about getting her ears pierced, but now what she really needed, what she’d really needed for her entire life, was a row of aligned piercing in her upper and lower lip, through which she would place the hooks of padlocks, clicking each shut. From there she’d drive for just a little bit, until she hit the Atlantic and she’d toss those keys into the churning waves. With that modest change, there would be no food in and no words out. It wasn’t practical, she’d never be presentable normal to anyone ever again if she did that, but maybe invisible padlocks, it's her little fantasy after all, yes invisible padlocks would work great.

She took a few more breaths, counting off seconds this time to not hold them too long, and there finally, at last, necessary emergency functions began to activate, one might call them Amber's backed into a corner protocols.

Amber placed her hands before her on the table, clutching the urge to scratch and rub and pick and rip tightly in a mental fist, keeping it contained, none of that now, she had to get her game face on.

She smiled pleasantly at her friend across the table, “Madaline, can we start over? I know you care about me, but I think you have the wrong idea, there are considerations you're not taking into account, you don’t see me all the time for one thing and I’m a lot smaller than you, you can’t expect me to need the same amount of food as you, and yes, I do concern myself about my body, but so do you, you work out like at least a bit every day. Please, I am so sorry I freaked out, but the idea that you think I’m sick, was very shocking and upsetting. I understand your concern, but I'm not unhealthy, I’m just not very hungry a lot of the time.”

Amber's stomach gurgled in pain.

Please believe me. Please don't hate me.

Madaline blinked, her mouth sliding to the side, almost another moment of surprise, then she peered closer at Amber. After a moment she glanced down, chewing her frowning lip, her fingers began to drum on the table, a quick little three count beat, ratatattat, she glanced back up at Amber, then back down again.

It was there for just a moment,, consideration, even doubt… Then she pressed her lips together, her fingers stopped their sequence and she shook her head.

“Amber, you look at cookies like you need it, but it might kill you to eat it.” Her fingers tapped again, “By the way, you do and it won't and, also wow, you might actually have convinced me of that if we were having this talk a week after I moved in."

Amber can hear nails going into a coffin built for all her hard work.

Nooooooooo.

But she held strong, working desperately to bail water out of a sinking ship, “Well, I’m sorry, you know I respect you, but I don’t really know how we can… listen we obviously have two very different opinions and I think this might just be a place where we have to agree to disagree.”

Madaline’s fingers rattled against the table once more, “Right, I hear what you’re saying.” She looked at Amber, considering her carefully once more, now with a totally different look in her eyes, her tongue swiping right over her lips.

Wait, is she actually letting it go? There’s no way it can be that easy.

Amber was correct.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to disagree to agreeing to that. Amber, you’re not fat… or ugly, like at all.”

“I never said I thought I was.” But prevention of the alternative is key.

“All I’m asking is for you to eat a little more than you do, just have lunch with me on the days Simon isn’t here.”

“I’m always happy to sit with you Madaline, but I really don’t need any more, I’m good.” I’m going to be better than good, I just need you to be a good friend, the best friend I’ve ever had, like you usually are, I don’t understand how you got this so wrong, just look at me.

Madaline’s response was sad and deadly simple, “Yes, you do.”

“Um, okay, then were back to agreeing to disagree which isn’t going to work for you, so I really don’t know where we go from here, you know?” She offered Madaline another nice smile.

Madaline’s finger cracked.

Chips of ice floated through Amber's blood. It would be easier to break, but she couldn't allow that. I’m sorry, I want to do what you say, I really do, but I can’t, I have to be-

Amber waited to see where they were going next, at some point she’d taken a quiet, unobtrusive breath and was keeping it imprisoned in her lungs.

Madaline sucked her teeth, turned her head left, then right, like she was checking to make sure nobody else was watching, then she rose from her seat and stalked the few steps over to Amber’s side of the table.

She towered over Amber, suddenly not just tall but a veritable high-rise of a human being.

Amber looked up into her face, and seriously, how had she missed it? Had she always been too wrapped up in Madaline’s obvious beauty, in the comfort that her face brought when she entered any room, had Amber really missed how easily it could take on this look instead? Nothing had changed about it, except everything.

The slashing lines that made up Madaline's features had been honed down to a razor's edge; the face that Amber usually related to kindness and understanding had become without the slightest shift in expression, fantastically cruel.

Her eyes were like jade set ablaze and they seized Amber's with a glance.

Madaline knocked her fist gently on the table. “Breathe,” Madaline said.

Amber’s breath whooshed out like Madaline had hit a switch.

Madaline looked her over and slid her hand across the table to the dish of mac and cheese, she picked up Amber’s unused fork and stirred the food, releasing more steam.

Amber’s stomach seized in desire.

Madaline seemed to consider something, looking from the dish to Amber, then set the fork at the side of the bowl and slowly slid it closer to it's intended recipient. She tapped a green nail against the ceramic surface, “Princess, be a good girl and eat that for me,” she said in something between a whisper and a growl.

It was like the fork had become magnetized, an invisible but very real force pulling at her hand, the still but unstable sensation of something being drawn in, being worked on, edging closer to movement, to flinging itself towards the source of the attraction.

In other bodily geographies the perhaps more interesting effects occurred, increased production of both dopamine and oxytocin submerged an already compromised prefrontal cortex leading to an accelerated heart beat, pupil dilation and an overall sensation that there was something hot and feral gnawing away at Amber's insides.

She squirmed in her seat and a small sound made itself heard inside her throat.

Madaline’s eyebrows went up, her right hand curling at her side; fascinated, even amused.

No it’ll ruin everything. Please, I just need to fix myself.

Amber swallowed, drinking in air, she pressed her lips together and looked up at her trying to project her apology, she told her neck to move in the negative, it took three attempts but at last she shook her head.

Whatever spell Madaline had cast trembled like a spider’s web.

She waited for Madaline to get mad, to start yelling at her.

Madaline didn’t, instead her head tilted just slightly, her eyes still burning, then after a moment her right hand jerked at her side, the fire went out of her gaze, and her posture relaxed. “Eh, worth a try,” she said with a sigh and a shrug, her voice board and careless once more, she retreated back to her chair, her side of the battle line.

The strands of the spiderweb began to break, giving way to clearer thought and a strange hollow ache inside Amber, a desire for the feeling to keep going, for more.

Worth a try? What was that, what was the strategy, just demanding?

Like after the conversation they’d been having, Madaline had just expected to come closer and talk to Amber sternly and Amber would obey, just a simple brute force tactic? It was preposterous, except… it had almost worked hadn’t it? Certainly, it hadn't been without tangible effect, her body still felt wonderfully, uncomfortably alight with sensation.

You know, actually thinking about it, the experience to Amber's mind was not totally unfamiliar, it felt kind of like being-

Amber caught this consideration before it could reach its utterly unamusing and irrational end conclusion.

Then because her own mind couldn’t help but make things worse, the unfamiliar voice seemed to spiral her way up Amber’s spine, cackling, having a grand old time with all of this. You know you’re doomed, you should just eat the mac and cheese, it said matter of factly.

No, I’m not sick, please I’m already losing, I can’t deal with you and her at once.

Sick? Who cares about sick? You're hungry, that’s all that matters, plus you’ve screwed up any chance of convincing her otherwise, might as well sit back and enjoy the spread.

The thought kicked Amber out of the chaotic fog her mind had been desperately weaving through, seeing all her failures at once with a hindsight based clarity, each failure, tallied up, one after another even as she told herself she needed to stop and now… it was so bad.

She’d messed up when she’d lost control with confronting Madaline and then continued to mess up, all of the behavior she was exhibiting just added ammunition to Madaline’s belief. Even her calm statement to Madaline had been riddled with critical errors.

She felt ashamed for all of it, for her outbursts. She desperately wished if she couldn’t make this whole situation go away, that she could at least take back the last five minutes and start over.

The knowledge that Madaline saw her as sick and that she intended to stand in opposition to Amber’s process of bettering herself had sent her spiraling, but even before that she’d totally failed to strategize, to consider her opponent, to try to establish some control of the conversation by deciding its time and place and tone.

Amber considered how this situation might look to an outside observer, which one she would agree with, the tall girl, sad, but desperately trying to help her friend or the nervous panic stricken big ugly creature insisting she did not in fact have an-

Yes, the second she’d freaked out she'd set a tone for her half of the conversation and almost guaranteed her loss, her gains.

Debating Madaline in any respect had been the central blunder, she knew better; reality didn’t matter, logic didn’t matter, what mattered was how Madaline felt and if she was scared for Amber’s health, (confirmation of care, a wonderful piece of knowledge when separated from its context) then repeatedly telling Madaline that her feelings were wrong was never going to get her where she needed to go.

Instead, what she should have done was brought the issue out of Madaline slowly, lightly, “I feel like you're trying to fatten me up… are you?” Brush over the issue a few times and get Madaline to either say it or say something that Amber could use to slowly come to the conclusion of what Madaline believed, “Wait, you don’t actually think I’m like starving myself do you? You seem to always be a little on edge when giving me food, you don’t think that do you, like I’m being anxious right, I’m weird, right?” Slow and calm with a little bit of good humor, get her to admit to it, that was the way and then importantly she needed to allow Madaline to express her own anxiety, to get upset without Amber showing her cards herself, allow Madaline to purge those negative feelings.

People hate to be told they’re wrong and in emotionally intense circumstances it can lead them to double down. Instead Amber should have loaded her with (honestly deserved and appreciated) praise for her kindness and good nature, appreciation for what a good friend she is. A positive set of emotions, the kinds of feelings people want to hold onto.

Then once she’d laid that foundation, she would have needed to begin the work of walking Madaline back up to the proper appropriate conclusion, that wouldn’t be trying (with well meaning intent) to destroy years of labor on Amber’s part.

For emphasis, she should never have directly said that Madaline was wrong, Amber’s job wasn’t saying that, but getting Madaline to think it. Therefore, she should have laid out reasonable doubt, introduce aspects Madaline had overlooked. She had at least haphazardly headed in this direction: her time at work which Madaline did not see, that their bodies were very different and thus had different needs, another one she could have used, that was so very true, was that Amber would never intentionally make herself sick just to lose weight and Madaline never saw her rush to the bathroom to vomit after meals.

And as she did this, yes, what would have to happen is she would have to eat the mac and cheese and a good serving of it.

Amber’s body throbbed at the concept.

She would have had to provide a physical demonstration reinforcing the truth that there is no problem.

It was an unfortunate sacrifice for the greater good, but this one meal was an acceptable loss to win the game, allowing Madaline to continue on this path was… no… it’s costs were unthinkable. So she’d eat and she’d say to Madaline, “Madaline, honey, I can see how stressed this has made you, you care so much, I understand what it’s like to get an idea caught in your head and it just sticks there ruining things, but I promise everything is going to be fine.” Yes, just like that, not you’re wrong as she had said to Madaline, not denial like a mad woman, but reassurance that everything is and will be as it should be.

Then to make sure the narrative of everything is going to be alright remained intact she should have followed up with some form of catharsis.

Now, in most situations Amber would probably think moving to the other end of the table and giving Madaline a long comforting hug would be best, but that could backfire badly if Madaline didn’t like the shape of her, if she put her arms around Amber and felt, impossibly but here they were, that she was too skinny.

Which of course, she wasn’t, she’d lost a great deal of weight during that last semester at school, but she’d put weight back on when she moved in with Simon. She would need something else to make sure Madaline’s worries were soothed.

Catharsis could be very tricky when a standard like a hug wasn’t viable, you had to know how to reach the person individually, with Madaline the most viable answer would likely be music.

Yes, that would do nicely, play the conversation out, eat the mac and cheese, then after lunch go back upstairs and request a song from the library Madaline had been introducing her too, something emotional with the feeling that everything was actually okay, best to pick maybe three and leave the catharsis at the end, make sure the other two wouldn’t interfere with the process. Uncomplicated songs that made for good feelings, instrumentals perhaps.

Amber never requested songs, Madaline would probably love it if she did, especially if it was music she'd shown her.

As Amber schemed over what music she should have chosen, she experienced a very Madaline esq moment: I’m Not Okay, I promise, by My Chemical Romance began to echo through her head, Well obviously that would never do.

But what song to choose to generate the catharsis? Hayling by FC Kahuna or Three Little Birds by Bob Marley or Float On by Modest Mouse or, no, she knew the perfect piece of music to accomplish this little trick, so cathartic and beautiful that listening to it would have rendered Amber to tears when she'd heard it if that was something she was capable of, Let It Be by the Beatles, yes, that would seal the outlook. That would help her avoid any unnecessary threats to their friendship while also ensuring Amber continued to take off the pounds she desperately needed to lose.

It’s a good plan, I like the plan, said the by now far too familiar voice.

Could I still make it work? Amber wondered. I’m in control now, my heart rate is down and everything.

Do you really want to do that to her? Puppet her emotions?

Guilt, thick and black like tar, spilled over her heart.

No, of course Amber didn’t.

The creation of the plan and the knowledge that she might've been able to make it work had sparked a bit of excitement, but no, she didn’t want to be doing any of this, it was mean, not to mention dangerous, if she screwed up somehow, seemingly Amber’s singular talent, Madaline might be mad at her, but she couldn’t just let this go on, if she let Madaline stuff her she’d lose everything she’d struggled for, including Madaline herself, not to mention everything she was still laboring towards might forever be cast out of her reach.

Moving towards her long term goal, becoming better, as well as keeping Madaline and Simon were the only things that counted.

Well, really, it’s not that important of a question, take a look at her, you’re not making this work now. You're doomed and you managed to do it in the first 10 seconds of the conversation, you cannot put the chess pieces back to the start of the game when she has you in checkmate, you can spitball fun hypotheticals all you want, but checkmate is checkmate.

Madaline sat across from her, frowning slightly, her hands clasped, her thumbs twitching.

Amber’s mind turned again, and she saw what the voice meant, factors that if she'd taken time to think this through instead of going crazy, she might have been able to consider.

By freaking out, by denying, she’d messed up any chance of convincing Madaline that there wasn’t a problem, but because she had this could only end in one of two ways: Madaline would either realize the essential power differential in their relationship or she wouldn’t.

If Madaline didn’t realize the power differential, then she would keep pressing Amber with food and while Amber might be able to say no right now, she would cave.

Madaline trying to feed her just to be friendly was something she could slither out of, but Madaline intentionally and strategically trying to undermine her and fatten her up, unwilling to give up because she saw a problem, that was a different thing all together, Amber wouldn't be able to mount a sustainable resistance to that, not forever.

Madaline could make it work easily just by scheduling this extra meal at night and pulling whatever little trick it was she’d done when she'd come to Amber's end of the table, the trick that had made Amber feel... so odd.

However, in that case Amber could still slow the march of the damage, slow, but not stop it, the only way to stop it would be by refusing to spend much time with Madaline at all, and she couldn’t do that.

Meanwhile the alternative possibility was infinitely worse, the idea that Madaline new exactly the cards she held, the few magic words she had to say to destroy Amber’s will to resist her advances.

The words might come in any number of sad and/or angry and/or sympathetic compositions, but ultimately the sentence came down to a simple ultimatum, “I need you to eat more or we can’t be friends.”

If Madaline knew that, was willing to use that, then Amber had no choice but to cooperate.

The ultimatum was such a sick joke, because Amber was almost totally certain that if Madaline had her way and the number on the scale which she weighed herself on every morning began making leaps upward, then Madaline wouldn’t want her anymore, bare minimum there would be no more trips out of the house where people could see them together.

The fact about Madaline that Amber left furthest back in her mental Madaline file, the one that she avoided thinking about as much as possible was about how Madaline’s time living with her and Simon would ultimately play out.

Even in the best case scenario, where Amber did everything right, where Madaline and Simon regrow some of their lost affection for each other, in some amount of time Amber won’t consider, Madaline was still going to leave. This, their relationship, the idea of Madaline and Amber, was a totally temporary thing.

Like it or not, when Amber was being honest with herself, she knew once Madaline moved out there was no place for her in Madaline’s life, hopefully fondly remembered, still considered a friend, sister in law and happy to see Amber likely a couple times of year at the holidays, but that was it.

Thinking about that directly for the first time in a while Amber considered whether it was worth it, to risk everything for something so temporary. She tried to work it out, tried to calculate it, but in the end the truth was like somebody asking herself to stick her hand in a fire and keep it there under her own will, she couldn’t bear to surrender their friendship early when she could have even a little more time.

Doomed, right, yeah.

“Are you okay?” Madaline asked softly, “You’ve been awful quiet for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Amber whispered. “Just thinking.”

Madaline nodded, “Take your time.”

A marionette shrug, feeling broken and defeated, she brought her hand to the edge of the table.

Nobodies going- they’re going to hate me, but at least Madaline will stop worrying and things can be okay for a little bit. Until her body bloated and warped. Maybe I can fix myself again, after she realizes, maybe she’ll realize in time what a mistake she’s made, I hope so… at least I won’t be hungry… It was a cold comfort. She’d have to start doing more yoga, maybe running, she hated running and her shoes were already so worn out, but what was she supposed to do, maybe it was just better to accept things, accept the time she had before everything went wrong, not fight it, like a decision someone might make when faced with a terminal illness. Her hand inched towards the fork-

Wait, not yet, the familiar voice said.

What now? I’m doing what you said, I’ve lost, I’m going to eat. Amber thought, wanting to scream in frustration, her stomach pumpkin hollow.

Come on, think, you’re a loser, but how about a consolation prize.Offer your acquiescence in return for her to taking you out with her on Friday, starting this Friday. That’s more time.

What?

Ask her. Ask her. Ask her to take you out. Ask her to take you-

That made no sense whatsoever, she couldn’t just invite herself, that would be rude, inappropriate and besides even if she asked Simon was never going to-

Screw Simon! the familiar voice hissed.

The mood swing was so abrupt, so jarring, it made Amber jump a little in her seat.

“You okay?” Madaline asked again, boosted out of her own thoughts by Amber’s sudden movement.

Amber nodded, “Uh-huh, just an intrusive thought.” She clasped the idea of the consolation prize tightly to move her away from thoughts about Madaline’s inevitable departure and the reality of the many ways she was doomed. Consolation prize, but something reasonable. There was nothing she wanted from Madaline that she wasn’t getting other than for her to believe that she was fine, that she was normal, for this situation to go away, which was an incompatible trade… then something, a massive piece of missing information, an entire section of her file on Madaline left notoriously empty and before she could consider possible ramifications or even value, she was pointing to the mac and cheese, “I’ll eat this if you answer a question for me and you won’t get mad or hold it against me. ”

Madaline's face remained still and then it bloomed in relief in a way that made Amber’s heart throb, “Yes, abo-” she stopped suddenly and Amber watched it happen, she watched as Madaline, in whatever equivalent metaphor Madaline had, realized there was a game to be played, slowly her face returned to its open beauty, “Yes, absolutely, if you’ll just continue snacking with me at night and have lunch with me on the days Simon isn’t here, I’ll answer whatever question you want, and I can’t imagine a question you could ask that would make me mad, but yes, if you’ll agree to that, than any question and I won't get mad at you, Sure. Happily. Fucking ecstatically.”

“Fine. Deal. Lunch and night time snacks.” Amber tried to think of how to phrase the question, but before she could do any real contemplation, it shot out of her mouth unmodified, “What did you do to Simon?”

Madaline blinked at her, “What did I do… to Simon?”

Amber rushed to correct herself, “Or what happened to you two?”

Madaline’s thumb cracked under the table.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad.”

“At you, and I’m not mad, it’s just…” Madaline tossed her hand.

“Irksome?”

“Yeah, that works, a little… it’s the subject, not you asking. Madaline took a few seconds to think. “What did I do to Simon…”

“What happened between you two?” Amber asserted.

Finally Madaline opened her mouth, “So, Sophomore year I went through-” she stopped, thought, her brow furrowed, her face falling, “Goddamnit.”

“What?”

Madaline rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did you ask Simon?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“That he didn’t want to talk about it.”

Madaline ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth, she clutched her hands together. “Right, Amber… this is complicated... I know what I just said, but… is there any other question you’ve been anxious about asking that you want to burn up on this, like, any other question, I mean it, anything other than this.” She threw her hands up, looking around as though for help. “You want to hear about the fucked up dreams I had during my first week on hormones, that literally one other person knows about, I’ll tell you about those. You want to hear about me looking down the barrel of an assault and battery charge less than nine months after that, done.”

Amber shook her head, confused, “Wait? Really…this isn’t… this isn’t even a good deal, I’m ruining my body just for... for... hearing a story.”

“You’re not ruining your-”

“You're usually willing to tell me anything, you’ll tell me those things anyway. Why not this?”

“Not the dreams either, maybe at some point, if you really want to know, it’s not something I broadcast. It’s really embarrassing, like really fucked.”

That line had a big old sign hanging off of it that read: lure.

Amber wasn’t taking the bait, instead she cast a lure of her own:

“Why won’t anyone tell me? How bad was it? Can you tell me that?”

For just a moment from Madaline’s end of the conversation the memory of a phantasm carries her away, the lights seem to dim and the kitchen goes with it, the snow fluttering outside the window is replaced with a sweltering summertime furnace and in the room: alcohol, bodies, the Dayglos, Amber looking at her not sad and small and hurting, but lush in a black dress and the mischievous but almost reasonable words softly spoken: What are secrets good for except occasionally sharing?

The question left Madaline grasping for an answer that is an answer, but minus any actual details:

“How bad was it? I guess that depends on how you look at things, like if it wasn’t Simon, I wouldn’t even have felt bad about it, it all comes down to like, it’s a difference in values.” Madaline sighed and rubbed her temples. “Okay, look, I will tell you, okay, I promise, I’m making a promise and that’s kind of the issue here, because I work really hard trying to keep those, so listen to me Amber, I swear to God I will tell you…”

Amber waited, her hunger, the food, the threat that lay before her, even the bruise right in front of her eyes on Madaline’s neck totally forgotten.

“But I can’t tell you while I'm staying here,” Madaline finished.

Then I’m never going to know.

Madaline continued on, unknowingly placing her reassurance of the eventual reveal in the worst set of words she could have possibly chosen at that moment:

“If you want to hear about it at the family dinner table next Thanksgiving, I will ruin the holidays by regaling you, Mom, Tom and Simon with my end of the story. Both incidents,” she held a palm open toward Amber, “And the really fucking weird math, that fucks with me and I try to remind myself that it’s… that I try to get myself to ignore, because... because everyone I tried to explain it to tells me I'm grasping at straws or paranoid or whatever.”

Math? Amber thought dully, her curiosity ground down to a nub.

Madaline continued on with what amounted to not a story:

“Look, Amber, at the end of the day, and I really don’t want to reinforce this… this kind of thinking with you, but in this case it's just true, in my opinion, it’s Simon’s business if he wants to tell you or not and technically speaking… how do I…listen… I’m… here’s what I can tell you, alright, I’m incidental to the story. What happened was always going to happen in some way. As much as I hate to admit it and I do, I’m a named side character in this. Now, I’m sure if Simon was sitting here, he would say that what I did was fucked up and mean and childish and… because it was Simon, maybe that’s not one hundred percent wrong, right, but the mistake Simon makes with this, what he fails and apparently, based on how you asked the question, is still failing to get is for me it wasn’t about him. I wasn’t targeting him, hard as that might be to believe, given the circumstances and my… beliefs and my history and my… my just… unbelievably shitty luck. You ask me what I did to Simon, what I did was not give a fuck and now I’m getting worked up and saying way more than I should… fuck.” she put her face in her hands.

Amber looked at her, wanting to comfort her, but out of everything in Madaline's disjointed monologue one idea had settled itself at the center of Amber's thoughts, glowing like something radioactive, rendering her incapable of acting on the urge. It was the line about telling Amber over Thanksgiving dinner, those words entering the atmosphere had been like a hot needle sliding slowly into her chest… cause that’s where they would see each other next November, with who knew how many months in between. It made Amber sad, and bitter and-

“Madaline,” she spoke. Amber shook her head, “Sorry, I'm sorry, but that tells me nothing and just, no, no deal.”

3.

Madaline’s hand slipped through the loose edge of her shirt and into her bra, extracting her vaporizer. She hit it, held it in her throat for a moment and was careful to exhale at the ceiling. The angle and vapor obscured the movement of her lips, the vocalization of a thought without actual sound: Fuck my life.

The jukebox in her head was a cunt, it clicked on, throwing a record down. Madaline willed the imaginary machine to die, for the internal collection of tunes to melt, but her jukebox was eternal, Rest Assured This Too Shall Be Over Soon by KO Corral started up:

"All I said was all the right things

Everything was going so well,

Until it was not.

Those Blue skies

were nothing but lies

The starting gun went off

But we missed our shot.

We were already buried

We were already dead."

Amber sat across from her, looking so small and upset, but also absolutely, frightfully, determined.

“You’re actually going to hold yourself hostage over what you admit isn’t much?” Madaline tried.

“I’m not going to argue with you Madaline, I can’t, but, it’s not- I’m not holding myself hostage if I’m not-”

“Not yet, by a technicality, by a fucking loophole."

The words came out as placid as a still lake, but inside her face adrenaline was pounding a frustrated back beat behind Madaline's temples and for the first time in their relationship she felt something like the urge to grab Amber by her scrawny shoulders and shake her.

"Now, I’m keeping my eyes down

and placing my hands on my head

Singing a rather hopeless tune.

Rest Assured, this too shall be over soon."

Madaline took a moment and counted herself backwards from ten, away from the flush of anger born of desperation, and waited for Amber’s response, thanking the devil for court ordered anger management.

Unfortunately, that energy had to go somewhere, the primitive thing in Madaline’s chest rolled the only other way it knew.

Madaline’s head swam with it's own bitterness and, yes, jealousy. She counted back again, and, seeing jealousy as preferable in this situation to out and out anger, she let herself have a moment to be childish. She held the primitive thing's leash tight, then unreeled enough slack to let it run some laps:

God fucking dammit, this is so fucking stressful, this is so fucking unfair, Jesus Fucking Christ, I should not be the one to have to fucking have this talk with her, maybe I'm not the worst person to do it but I'm far from- FUCK. Also, for fuck's sake I watch her go to bed with him nearly every night, this is literally the worst look but don’t even think of touching situation of my life. While I love having her hanging around, definitely don’t want that to stop, but I've got to deal with a little jolt half the time I turn around from work and see her on my bed, and I can't do anything about that except jerk off to her three times a week and then pretend that I don't want to destroy her on the living room carpet during bestie anime time, so, for fuck sake, someone please tell me why? Why is the person who is actually getting to… date her… How is this not Simon’s job? FUCK!

She locked the primitive thing back down, promising to feed it later, whether Amber ate or not, Fuck, I’m a bad person. In other news the sky was blue… although, the primitive thing kind of had a point in one respect:

Amber wasn’t listening to her, Madaline had blown this, so maybe pointing out Amber’s behavior to Simon and demanding he do something was exactly what she should do, and it sounded like a good idea on paper, but it wasn’t, because Madaline wasn’t sure how that would work out, she could imagine three different ways Simon could respond and two of them were not good.

No, even if she told him, she could not trust that Simon would handle this correctly, he might, but if he hadn't seen the problem, then Madaline pointing it out might well prejudice him against seeing it. So, no, for the time being if anyone was going to help Amber, make her see reason it had to be Madaline, fair or unfair, she wasn’t abandoning Amber to her own devices.

“Technicality,” Amber mumbled. “Let’s say you’re right, it’s not my business about Simon, let’s say you’re right that I could- could get... sick later, if I took things too far, but if so I’m not there yet so…” a marionette shrug, “Then there is definitionally nothing wrong with me, so what right do you have-”

“This is different, nothing bad happens if you don’t hear about my… questionable behavior one time, but if things get worse you could actually be hurt and I can’t- Fuck, I don’t know why Simon isn’t- fuck, no, I’m not going to go there.” Madaline clapped her hands a few times, counting back once more. “Right, fair argument, I guess, but it doesn’t change where we are Amber. You’re my friend and I’m not going to watch you waste away and do nothing and so… I can’t force feed you, all I can do is to keep trying to feed you and I’m going to. What you do with that is up to you.”

Madaline wasn't sure why, but those words made the small girl flinch slightly. Madaline immediately wanted to get up and hug her, but she couldn’t yet… it hurt.

This shouldn't have been me, I've fucked this all up.

She'd figured that this conversation would eventually happen, but she'd honestly hoped she might get a little farther than this, that more padding could be put down before it went off the rails.

The fact was Madaline was ill-built for the gentle social subterfuge she'd been forced to engage in.

Madaline had charm, but it was an obvious charm, thus she was primarily good at convincing people to do certain things that they already wanted to do, maybe guiding them around a few remaining flimsy barriers, but they always quickly saw her intent, because she never actually hid what she was doing, she wasn't good at hiding it, she didn't like hiding it and it would be wrong to do otherwise in 80% of those situations.

This thing with Amber though, it required, not lying, but subtlety, a skill set in which she was substantially less savvy, and Madaline knew that about herself.

The fact was she’d partially been relying on Amber’s obvious dislike for direct confrontation to push this moment off a little more, providing Madaline more time, but that had gone out the window the second Amber had figured out what had been going on.

It was gratifying in it’s own way, Amber had once more surprised her and now that she knew what Madaline was trying, Madaline wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep tempting her into eating the way she had been, understanding that something was happening and why, was necessary for mounting a resistance and Amber, it seemed, felt compelled to resist, to misbehave..

Madaline seriously wished she would apply this behavior to any other area of her life.

All she had left to work with now was Amber’s curiosity. So, Madaline settled in and began running numbers on how long she could hold off telling Amber the fucking story, how much time she herself might be able to bear the terror in hope that Amber might decide to give in first for one reason or another.

Other issues with telling the story aside, the problem with the story at this juncture was for the increased calorie intake to happen Madaline needed Amber comfortable around her and whatever else Amber might think of the story, one of its unfortunate potential effects might be to undo some of the trust that they’d built up in the prior weeks.

Then again, Madaline thought, remembering Amber’s response to the shorter version of the Penny's story, without the long term fallout, She doesn't always have the response I expect when I tell her a story, full of surprises. Fuck it all, nevermind, it’s what I've got, I’m not going to wait.

Madaline licked her lips, planning out how she’d go about this, when a light flashed on in her brain, her jukebox killed KO Corral early and switched it out for New Low by Middle Class Rut and the idea was there, a solution, a coin flipping in the air, all she had to do was…

Madaline imagined a snake biting its own tail, engaging in the process of swallowing itself, a double edged image that described both the issue and a potential short term solution to it.

Madaline hit her vaporizer and bit at the inside of her cheek, turning the idea over, turning over what doing it would say about her and for a minute the idea repelled her.

I probably wouldn’t be able to get it to work anyway, but even if I could, no, absolutely fucking not, I’m not doing that to her, fuck no, I literally just said I didn't want to reinforce issues she already has and the little bitch has issues. It’s a shitty way to act towards someone who’s never hurt anyone, but seems to have been hurt by practically everyone she's ever known. No.

Then she turned over what not trying it would say about her, what doing nothing would result in.

On the other hand, yeah, absofuckinglutely, shitty thing to do, of course it is. The wrong thing to do, for the right reason and it’s only an imperfect solution which would do little more than buy time, perhaps enough time to make improvements in some of those ideas by way of example, so why bother and in two years or one year or six months when Amber looks like Bethany at the end, when Amber is a skeleton in the hospital or maybe the ground, at least I’ll be able to tell myself that I stuck to my hard won, never deviated from principles, why smudge my absolutely fucking steller record of always doing only the right thing for the right reasons, my neverending lifestyle of good behavior…Fuck it… It’s either try this or tell her the story.

Madaline thought things over, it didn’t take her long for the idea to become acceptable, it had a higher chance of success and the image of a skeletal Amber was a highly motivational one. The one consolation was that she at least hadn’t arrived at this conclusion by way of the primitive thing, by way of Godzillaing her way through the world. If she was doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, at least her motives weren't going to be tainted by enjoying it.

She’d need her medication for this and they were in her pockets right now, weren’t they? Like they were waiting for her to think of this.

Madaline drew herself inward, pushed herself up from her somewhat slumped position, fixing her posture, placing an elbow on the table, leaning her chin into it lazily, her eyes half lidded in performative relaxation she wished she could feel.

She slipped her free hand in the pocket with three prescription pill bottles, pulled one out, checked it at a glance, got it wrong, she tried the second one, finding the one she wanted, she placed it on the table on its side, rolling it, playing with it, catlike.

The great irony of this moment is that if their positions were reversed Amber would be able to make this idea work with a much higher probability of success.

It’s only from being trans and spending so much time talking to other trans women that Madaline has the capacity to pull it off at all.

Madaline doesn’t make elaborate plans, she just gets a tune of what she’s doing in her head and jams:

A little shrug, “It’s really disappointing I have to say,” Madaline remarked casually.

Amber looked up, worried, confused, “Wha- what’s really disappointing?”

“Well,” Madaline hissed air through her teeth in faux awkwardness, “I’m a lesbian.”

“Yeah… um… I know. How…”

Madaline continued to roll the bottle, another shrug. “I like boobs, not just my own, but other people’s, they’re pretty, fun, I enjoy looking at them.”

It took Amber a few seconds to move from plain confused to confused with reddened ears.

“Um, what? I don’t-”

“Boobs, princess, tits, I was looking forward to looking at yours.”

Madaline pointedly looked at Amber’s chest.

Amber looked down at her sweater, “What? Do you look-at my, um,” her face was as red as embers now, “do you look at my bo-obs?” her voice went a little higher.

“No, of course not, that’s my point, I was looking forward to it.”

Amber looked back up, her fingers running over her chest, “Um, I… I…” she licked her lips. “Okay…”

Madaline can practically see the question marks hanging over her head. “What’s stopping you?”

That line almost tripped Madaline up, but she caught herself, not letting herself think about how to take that, probably just Amber being equivocal as she usually was when the subject wasn’t about her less than subsistence diet.

“The fact that you have none. You have no boobs.”

Amber stared at Madaline, took a deep breath, her finger scratching at the table. “That’s, yes, I do- they’re, I do-”

“Ah, right, I’m sorry, please, allow me to correct myself, princess. You have next to no boobs."

Amber swallowed, her finger scratched faster.

Madaline wanted a shower and to knock her own teeth out.

“You’re saying I look like, but you-”

Madaline catches the drift of her thought and intercepts it, she’d been waiting on it, it was the one place she will not let this song go. “No,” she held up a finger, interrupting Amber, “I am explicitly not saying that, nobody looks at you and thinks male. They look at you and see a very pretty girl with a very flat chest.”

“It’s not flat… it’s just…” a deep breath, a spark of something in her dark eyes, something sharp, she looked at the mac and cheese and back at Madaline.

Amber’s finger went still, her eyes darting back and forth in thought. “I see what you’re doing. I’ve seen you do it before.”

There was a little relief in the idea that Amber had caught on, that she understood that this isn’t what Madaline actually thinks, except Madaline needed this to work so, it’s relief mingled with a sense of oncoming failure. Don't give up yet, find out where her head is at.

“Yeah? What am I doing?”

“You’re, you know, leaning into your more caustic traits, you usually do it when you’re embarrassed or when you don’t want to admit something is your fault… that’s what you’re doing, right now, leaning in.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Amber said with certainty.

Goddamn it. Roll with it, key change.

“Okay yeah I am, I meant what I said, smartest person in a lot of the rooms you go into.”

Some of the stress blew away from Amber’s features. It made Madaline feel a little better, but the jam wasn’t over.

“But a water seller doesn’t need a good advertising jingle in the middle of a desert.”

“I have boobs, and they’re still growing. I can feel it.”

“Yeah, you have boobs, but you could have more, hips too, an even more,” Madaline prevented herself from making an agonized sigh, “... a more…classically feminine shape.”

Madaline watched something happen in Amber’s eyes, like somebody lit a fire that made them grow darker, it was a look wonderfully pure and uncomplicated. Amber’s hands ran over her chest, her teeth scraped her bottom lip.

Okay nevermind how she looked at me earlier, what the hell is that and how do I make her do it again in the future.

Not today, but very shortly in the future as they sit on the couch shopping online, Madaline will find a term for that look. She’ll fight and struggle against it at first, because it seems ugly and unfair to give it that name and yet it is the word that best fits the expression of a near black hole kind of hunger. The word is greed.

Madaline tumbled the bottle of pills between her fingers, making it rattle. “When’s your next doctor's appointment, Amber? HRT and stuff?”

Amber blinked, “Um… it’s… actually next week I think, yeah.”

Is this working, can I actually get this to work?

Madaline rolled the bottle across to her, “Start taking those today twice a day. It’ll probably help with a few things, but it’ll increase your…growth.”

Amber picked up the bottle. “Don’t you…”

“I’ve got stock. Tell your doctor you want progesterone, they should have put you on it anyway, then you can give the rest back.”

Amber's face fell, “I can’t affo-”

“If you’re short I’ll cover it for you.”

“I can’t ask you-”

“You're not asking, I'm telling you I will, but Amber, listen, right, you need to eat for it to work. You’re not consuming enough calories to keep things growing the way they want to. You’re eating like an unhealthy teenage girl, you need to eat like a healthy one. Just… eat the snacks, indulge yourself and have lunch with me and you’ll see some,” Madaline can’t help but sigh, normally she could say it with some levity, but it hits too close to how she figured Amber actually thinks. “Improvements.”

Amber was rolling the pills now, like Madaline had been earlier. A little shake of the head.

Madaline acted before Amber could make the denial a concrete thing.

“Amber, I know pretty girls, okay, if you’re that worried about your appearance… about…” Madaline's eyes swept back and forth trying to find the right word.

Amber got there first, “Consequences.”

“Sure, those. If you start to fall into a… dangerous area… I’ll let you know if you’re not heading in the right direction. You can trust me… I’m your bestie. ”

Amber’s face flickered with warmth, the denial is delayed and she returned to thinking.

Come on, please, please, please, come on princess, you know you’d rather be more fem than a pile of bones. Come on…

Amber scratched at her arm, but it's slow, contemplative. “I- Can I,- I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, go ahead, I’m not your…” A revolver cylinder loaded with words spun in Madaline’s head, providing a mixture of feelings: Boss, Dom, Boyfriend, Father. “I’m your friend,” she shrugged.

Amber nodded and rose, going to the bathroom down the hall.

Madaline sat, her arms balanced before her, her palms dragging against each other. She can practically see her through the wall taking off her clothes, staring at herself in the mirror, pinching bits of flesh between her skin, trying to make up her mind.

Sure there isn’t some benefit somewhere in this for me- yeah, she stays alive, she maybe gets better.. I don’t see why I wasn’t smart enough to just go with the nice version of this? Why did I have to be such a bitch to her…

Amber could’ve told her that she’d done all right. That Madaline was dealing with a tendril of obsession, and she’d already found that she couldn’t just chop it off, so instead she had to redirect it, and redirecting it first required that it’s current chokehold be destabilized.

Positive comments alone couldn’t work to redirect the issue, not with Amber, they were too easy to disregard, to argue away.

Amber could’ve also told her of catharsis and how, you can trust me I’m your bestie, was the best verbal method of trying to seal the redirection.

4.

Amber didn’t come back for nearly twenty minutes, when she did she sat down, picked up her fork and pulled the mac and cheese closer. She stared at the bowl, running her thumb gently over the handle of her utensil.

Please eat, Madaline thought.

Amber forked up a few noodles, holding them before her, reminding herself over and over of the potential benefits and that if this was the wrong direction it could still be corrected, that it would be corrected before going too far. “We’ll… try it out, you’ll tell me if I start to get…”

“Yes,” said Madaline, filled with the full knowledge that their definitions of going too far in the other direction than the one Amber had been heading in, were likely vastly different.

“Promise me. You say you keep your promises. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Nothing else I can do except, maybe I can move her away from thinking about that kind of thing by telling her she’s pretty, like every single day, not that it's going to be hard, not that I don't already want to do that...just have to make sure to do it in an unquestionably totally bestie way.

Amber nodded and at last she began to eat, she ate slow, but she ate, she looked up at one point, with a soft laugh that sounded a little like a moan and a little like a sob, “It’s really good.”

“I know, right.”

Madaline watched her eat, leaning in, resting her chin on her hands, slowly shifting into an authentic kind of relaxation. Madaline liked to feed people, this however went above and beyond that enjoyment, it was spectacular relief, like sun blasted flesh resting in a cool nighttime stream.

A little while later Amber set the fork aside and asked her carefully, “Are you mad at me, um, do you like, are you mad?”

“No, why would I be?” Madaline responded, not all that surprised by the question.

“For being a problem, you know?”

“You’re not a problem. If you were, you’d be worth solving, yeah, you’ve... been hurt, but Amber, you’re not broken, you don’t need to be fixed.”

Another bite. “You really do like me then? Don’t you? I’m not just, I don’t know... I try not to think too much about it.”

“About what?”

“About the idea… that you just wanted to be friends cause… I don’t know.”

Madaline figured that was as good an explanation as Amber was going to be able to provide and in the end Madaline was more interested in her continuing to eat. “Yeah, I do actually like you.” The interest in her continuing to eat did not stop the statement from being true.

“Why do you like me?”

“Why does anyone like anyone? They go well together."

“But they don’t always go well together, do they?”

“No, I suppose not, putting it in words... Not just you, but any friend, it over simplifies things, any explanation I give is just… not it.” She shrugged, “You’re smart, you’re cute…” Madaline hesitated considering the words, “The day you fixed up my foot… I thought about those things and a couple others, but they’re ah, obvious, but the big one, the one that I suspected which has been panning out… you’re full of surprises.”

Amber opened her mouth, but Madaline moved quick to make her accept the compliment, “What about me, why do you like me?”

Amber's brain buzzed, how did she respond to that? Filled with good advice today, the familiar voice reared up and whispered, Never mind why! Tell her, "When you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave."

It was true, totally true, more true than she could bear thinking about, too true to say and filled with connotations that might give someone the wrong idea.

“You’re… you. Who couldn’t like you?”

Madaline laughed, “Then you’d be surprised, I mean look at Simon.”

Amber felt the urge to try to downplay it, to try to continue facilitating the repair of their relationship.

“Then they’re wrong… and whatever happened, between you and Simon… my feelings for him don’t change the fact that he’s… got you wrong…. Don’t worry, he’ll… see.”

This gives Madaline a whole bunch of complicated feelings, she wants to tell her she’ll try not to disappoint her, but in the end all she can arrive at is, “Thanks, I hope so, but I’ll live if he doesn’t. He’s letting me stay, I’m getting to know you, what more can I ask.”

“But he will,” Amber insisted. He has to… otherwise you can’t ever…

Madaline shrugged once more, “Satan knows I’m doing my best, I really am.”

Amber nodded, she looked down at her half empty bowl of mac and cheese, she was fuller than she’d been in a long time, it felt nice. She could still eat a little more, but maybe Madaline would let her off with this much but… I’m still hungry. She ate more, she looked up, “It’s really good,” she said again, louder than the first declaration.

“Yeah?” Madaline smiled.

“Yeah,” Amber nodded.

In the end, after one highly stressful conversation, the immediate situation was resolved fairly easily.

Going forward, when Amber’s mind berated her over how she would balloon, there would be Madaline’s voice in her head reassuring her that it would balloon in all the right places.

In the end, the stratagem Madaline pulled off seemed like an easy solution, because it kind of was.

In the end, it seemed to cost very little, because it kind of had.

In the end, it perhaps shouldn’t have worked, but it did…

For a while.