I do not own To The Bone.
I am grateful I am not to the bone.
To The Bone
"Hey."
"Hey."
She didn't talk to him for the first three days.
She couldn't.
She couldn't do anything for anybody but herself.
Not because she didn't want to.
She was just . . . empty.
She had been for a long time.
Emptied and dried out, with nothing left to give.
And that would take time, she knew.
To get filled up enough to truly be able to be anything to anybody.
She didn't need Doctor Beckham to tell her that.
And she did.
Accept the emptiness and waste of herself.
And the time it would take to correct those things.
Time that was not yet now.
She slept. And she ate.
Sort of.
She attended meetings and spoke when called upon.
She weighed and listened.
And she existed.
And on the third day, she went to him.
"Hey."
"Hey. You back from your little walkabout, I see?"
"Yeah."
He seemed anxious, unable to look her in the eye.
But still making jokes.
Because that was his only defense mechanism.
His only self-preservation.
Misdirection.
"All cured now?"
And she didn't even pretend to think that was funny.
"No."
Because she didn't have energy, mental or physical.
And he had to accept that about her right now.
"Good for you."
And she understood.
And so did he.
No more lying, no more deflection.
No more denying or skimping.
Or trying to be so cool.
She was, simply, raw.
To the bone.
"Look," she began, wondering if she would have the energy to finish the sentence she had started. "I wanted to say . . . I'm sorry."
He didn't respond, just watched her quietly from his spot sitting on the floor.
Watching her intently.
Too intently, she knew.
And that was what she was here for.
"I'm sorry about your knee and your anorexia and everything."
She paused, feeling her heart pounding, body so close to collapse.
God.
"And I know you like me and I like you too but . . ."
I really could die at any minute.
". . . that's what I wanted to talk to you about."
Jesus.
"I can't be your next thing that makes you feel. I'm not . . ."
Gulping for air, God, she wasn't strong enough to say this-
". . . I'm not strong enough, I don't have anything left. I . . . I can't even take care of myself, of my own feelings, I can't even eat, I know I can't take care of you . . ."
Her voice trailed off and she thought she might collapse right there on his doorless bedroom floor.
"Maybe someday but . . . I can't right now, Luke. And you can't wait for me to. It's . . . it's too much pressure for me."
Her voice the only thing left of her, was trying to fade out too.
"It's . . . crushing. I can't . . . I can't take any more weight. I can't be consumed by you too. I . . . don't have anything left of me."
Become nothing.
"I just can't."
And then she ran out of words, out of air, out of everything.
Drained and empty and still and silent, she stood.
A shadow of a wraith of a person who didn't even know who she was any more.
Not even any bones.
Just nothing.
And then he spoke.
"Okay. I understand."
And he chewed his lip and she began the arduous task of summoning the energy to move.
"Thank you for talking to me, Eli."
A pause.
"See you around then?"
She nodded.
"Okay."
And that was it.
At least . . .
"I still believe in you."
"Thanks, Luke."
. . . for now.
So I've never experienced anorexia or bulimia or any other kind of eating disorder other than sometimes overeating whatever tastes best.
But I've watched this movie twice now and I really wanted to write about it.
If I got anything wrong, I honestly mean no disrespect and I apologize for anyone out there fighting such a battle.
Please don't give up.
Everyone appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.