This was my entry for rentfichallenge 2. Go check it out! It's awesome!
Disclaimer: RENT is Jonathan Larson's.
"I knew." An awkward shrug. A tense giggle of breath. "How could I not? She kept getting thinner."
I'm here, Mark.
"When we started dating, she would wear my pants. You know, just get up and put on my sweats or something. And then… she couldn't. They fell right off her."
I thought talk therapy meant I talked.
"I was used to people losing weight. April used so much smack her skin looked like it was melting. Roger slept during the day and seemed to live off water."
So why was it a problem for me?
"I guess the difference was that they… well, April… April was practically dead. She wasn't coming back. Roger would drag me to the park for hotdogs. But Maureen… she just… wouldn't. You'd take her out, she'd order a salad. You'd try to split a burger, she'd eat the lettuce and the tomato. Maureen was avoiding food."
It smells funny.
"How did you feel about that?"
Oh, don't take that tone with him! He's not stupid, he'll see through you.
Arms on his thighs. Lean forward. Imagine contact. "I hated it. Something was wrong and there was nothing I could do. She wouldn't let me help. I was almost glad when Roger gave up smack because at least I could help. With Maureen, it was like I was along for the ride. Like she didn't care about you."
That was never true. Dammit, who's making him say these things? That's not true!
I'm not listening to this anymore. I'm not listening to this, turn it off.
--
"You convinced Maureen to come here, didn't you?"
A nod. Curt, necessary. "Actually, I threatened her. I told her I'd leave her if she didn't."
"And she agreed?"
"Eventually."
Could this be more awkward for you? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Crackling. Fingers on glass. I'll make it up to you. Strokes. Strokes.
"When did you first notice Maureen's problem?"
"A while ago."
Liar.
"It was over a year ago, I… at first? I was impressed. I knew Maureen could go days on a few salads and maybe some broth. I'd seen her do it. Even though I knew, logically, that she was ill, I felt envy. I wished I could do that. I wished I could look like her."
Is that the only reason you stayed with me? Because I was beautiful? Because you hoped my beauty would rub off?
"I loved Maureen. I love her. But she made me hate my body."
Pookie…
Crossed arms. Flickering eyes. A deep frown.
"Do you resent her for that?"
"No. I think she's sick. I think she has a disease, and I think it's contagious."
Like the flu. Like AIDS. Like beauty.
"She's here to get cured."
Turn it off. Turn it off, now.
--
"Maureen's my cousin." Legs crossed. Legs uncrossed. Leather boot toe against denim. Scratch. Scratch. "I knew about it for a long time. Don't look at me like that. What was I supposed to do? I loved her. I kept her parents from finding out."
"Do you think that was a positive influence? Lying to her parents?"
"Yeah, I do. Mo's parents were assholes. She was a chubby kid, and her mom would always say shit like, 'if you ate more vegetables…' or she'd like, sign Maureen up for swimming classes."
"You disagreed?"
A snort. "Yeah, I disagreed. Look, Maureen already knew how to swim, she just didn't need to be in spandex around a bunch of skinny little blond girls who called her Bubble Butt."
Jesus. Thanks. I'd forgotten about that. Bubble butt. Haven't chewed gum since.
"When she passed out, I put her in bed. It was a Christmas party. I tucked her into my bed and slept by the window, and you know what happened when her parents found her in my bed? My dad whipped me. Yeah, that's right, bent me over the kitchen table and whipped me with his belt."
Sorry. I'm sorry.
"I mean, I didn't care, I just… what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't make her eat! I made her sit once, she wouldn't do it. You know what I think?" Don't wait for an answer. "I think she needs to be happy. I think she needs to decide to be happy."
End.