Food Fight by Linda B. Davis

Author:Linda B. Davis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regal House Publishing
Published: 2023-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chew on It

I don’t say a word in the car on the way home. Mom’s questions are so carefully worded that it feels like she’s reading them from a parenting book about how to interrogate your kid without sounding like a detective. But it’s totally obvious that she wants to know exactly what Rob and I talked about. I pretend I can’t hear her.

“Why don’t you just call the guy and ask him how it went,” I say when we’ve finally pulled into the garage. I slam the car door harder than I should.

“And my two sessions are done, by the way,” I snap before I stomp in the house.

The info-dump Rob just did on me hasn’t made me feel better—and I thought that was a therapist’s main job, to make people feel better. I had told myself in the car I was not going to Google selective eating disorder when I got up to my room. But of course I do it, cringing as I type the words eating disorder—a phrase I’d never imagined would apply to me.

I don’t understand a lot of the explanations and definitions, but what I do understand sounds weirdly familiar. I can’t decide which is worse—thinking I’m the only eating freak or knowing I’m lumped in with a bunch of other eating freaks. And I don’t buy into Rob’s optimism that my situation can change.

Before I dive into my homework, I suddenly remember the one thing he mentioned that I was a little excited about. I search super-taster kit and order one before I change my mind, using an old gift card I’ve had lying around. It might be nice to know if I am one. Not that I could change it if I am.

When Maddie and I are called down for dinner, I take the stairs slowly, dreading more therapy questions from Mom. But maybe she’s thinking the same thing, because she’s back in the kitchen and my bowl of buttered pasta is waiting for me on the coffee table. It looks like a consolation prize.

I think all the stuff Rob told me this afternoon is messing me up. I wonder if I’ll still be right here watching the Disney Channel with Maddie when I’m in high school, shoving pasta down my throat like I’m in a trance. Or worse, maybe I’ll be a forty-year-old man trying to cram my grown-up legs under the coffee table while Mom, who looks like a grandma by then, serves me the same pasta in the same bowl over and over and over and Dad hobbles past me with a cane, shooting me the same old dirty looks.

I’m doomed, probably for life. At the very least, I’m doomed for Abner Farms.

It would be great if Dad turned out to be right about all the fresh air and nature triggering such a ravenous hunger in me that I’d suddenly be willing to eat whatever was being served, even if it was something totally repulsive like beef stew. But I can’t count on that, and I’m not willing to humiliate myself by trying out his hypothesis.

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