"I thought it would be okay. I was stressed, but I thought I could handle it. I'm always stressed, especially when you're not here."
She takes a long sip from her coffee, her gaze flitting from me to her cup. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. It was just a chocolate bar. It should have been easy. All I had to do was eat a few squares of chocolate and not binge and not purge. That's nothing. Normal people do it every day."
She presses her fingers into her coffee cup. She's still somewhere else, but she's bringing that world here. She's letting me in. I have to help her carry this pain.
I offer my hand. She takes it, but she still won't look at me.
"I couldn't stop at two squares. I ate the entire bar. And then I started to panic. I was alone, at Laurie's, and I was only a few blocks from Whole Foods. I didn't really think about it. I only knew that I'd fucked up and I'd have to fix it. And, as long as I had fucked up, I might as well go all the way with it." She finally meets my gaze. "And then I was on the bathroom floor, empty again, crying because I fucked up again."
The silence falls around us. There's a soft breeze blowing through the trees. There are footsteps around us, other people walking their dogs or rushing to work. There are cars zipping down the street, honking, rolling their windows down to take in
the Pacific Ocean.
"Why didn't you call me?" I ask.
Her eyes turn to the ground. "I couldn't. Not knowing you were with Samantha."
I clench my fists. I need to stay calm, to prove to her that she can always trust me. But she should have called. She knows she's supposed to call when she's overwhelmed.
She promised.
"You're mad," she says.
"No, I'm just..."
"Disappointed?" She says it like it's the worst thing she's ever heard.
"You promised you'd call if you were overwhelmed."
"I'm sorry."
I shake my head. "I want to help you."
She takes a step back. "Then try being here." She clenches her fists, sinking into her thoughts. "No, it's better this way. I should do this on my own."
"You're going to take on your entire eating disorder recovery all by yourself?"
She presses her hands against the railing. "I have my therapist."
"You have me."
"I have you if I'm doing well. But if I keep fucking up, you'll keep looking at me like I'm some priceless work of art in desperate need of restoration."
"That's not true."
I reach for her hand, but she takes another step away.
"Alyssa."
"I get it. I'm a disappointment. You thought you were different than Ryan, that you would be the one to fix me, but now that it's difficult..." She takes another step away.
I grab her wrists. "I'm here for the long haul. No matter how difficult it is."
She shakes her head. "We should go. I don't want you to be late."
"I'll decide if I want to be late."
"I'd like to go."