I’m wearing jeans and a sweater that’s too big because it’s not mine. My smell’s not mine either—I used his Axe in the shower this morning, rubbed it into my skin as if it could make the inflammation go down. Then I stood in the shower for another ten minutes, ice-cold water pounding against my chest while I did my breathing exercises, trying to expand my ribs. Afterwards, I counted them, my ribs, just to make sure they were all still there. No one loses ribs, he said when I told him, and I sat down and counted them again.
Let’s go to Space Mountain, I say, and he says, you should finish your food. Instead, I offer it to the trashcan, and that makes me feel normal. There are a lot of fat people at Disney, but there are a lot of skinny people too. It just looks like there are more fat people, because they take up more space, but I can always find the skinny ones, the ones that look like me, on the outside anyways.