Nervosa

• Jayne Larbalestier, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2011

“Anorexia doesn’t just destroy women.”
He knelt down, cupping my chin in his warm, worn hands. His dark, lavender eyes hid in the shadows while his cheeks were alight by the fire’s gleaming light. I didn’t know what anorexia was. Maybe anorexia was a woman, pale, and fragile. Perhaps strong and beguiling. How was I to know? I was only a child but Grandfather didn’t tolerate excuses. Somewhere, in my soul, somewhere dark, somewhere I saw a faint glimmer of what anorexia could be but I had never questioned the glimmer. That was a mistake but why? I didn’t know. Grandfather droned in his mysterious, velvety voice. “The rooms were bathed in a creamy yellow with a view as far as the eye could see. A clock, yes so many clocks, ticked, ticked, ticked. At night there were the sounds of hooligans screaming up and down the streets. Yet there was no light from the moon, only the twinkling lights of the city in the valley”
I played with the chain of silver around my neck and dreamed of a room with creamy yellow walls and twelve windows precisely lined up, no room for a fourth wall, just windows. There was a valley and at night it would shine with the little lights of the city like candles in the dark. Race cars, shiny and bright would zoom up the narrow, winding streets and then the dream ended when Grandfather coughed and spluttered, gasping for air. Tears shone in the deep furrows of his eyes as though he were picturing a scene, splendid with gardenias and roses and climbing ivy, trailing up a beautiful cottage’s walls. Yet I knew Grandfather better than that. There was fear in his eyes. A dreadful fear. He reached down from the rocking chair and grabbed hold of my shirt. He yanked and drew me to his face, so close I could smell his pungent, stale stench mixed with that of shaving cream. “You can’t take me back! Not there!” He yelled.
I touched Grandfathers hand gingerly. “It’s okay Grandfather. I won’t take you back. I promise. Remember what Nanny used to say: Dream big then fly till you fall. I promise I will only take you back when you fall. Yes?”
Grandfather seemed content enough and relaxed his firm grip, letting me fall back to the ground. “Time, always ticking” he murmured through cracked lips, “Tick, tick, tick. Always ticking. Nurses here. Meds there. Not knowing when you’ll get out”
“Hospital?” I asked, picturing white walls and nurses clad in white aprons with marine blue sleeves.
His lavender eyes flickered, staring into mine as though they were like little windows into my soul. “Call anorexia the two faced bitch. Call her whatever but not even she will force me back into that hell hole. You think you’re so young Monette but anorexia can snatch up even the wisest of God’s sheep.” The fire crackled as if in reply to Grandfather’s dark words. It licked at the stone that caged it and I could picture anorexia, that anorexia licking at a cage inside of Grandfather.
“How does the big bad wolf snatch up one of God’s sheep?” I inquired, still picturing anorexia as the untamed beast, locked inside of a cage ready to bust free, picking the lock with its forked tongue like that of a devils.
“He comes when you’re alone.” He knelt down beside me, knees cracking from the strain, and whispered again like a snake “He comes when you’re world is grey, when no-one cares. It’s just a faint voice at first: don’t do it, don’t do it. Echoing, echoing into your mind driving you insane. Your friends aren’t there. There’s only her, him, the big bad wolf, smiling with his devils grin. Monette, can you imagine a hospital with creamy yellow walls and windows with a view as far as the eye can see?”
I nodded fearfully.