Page 129 of Carnal Urges

THIRTY-FOUR

DECLAN

Later in bed, we lie together silently, watching the sun come up. We’re on our sides, her back to my front, my arm underneath her neck, her head resting on my pillow. My knees are drawn up behind hers.

I once paid three hundred thousand dollars for a wristwatch. I remember it now and smile at how I thought a hunk of metal was worth something.

But I had nothing of real value to compare it to.

Now I do.

Sloane says, “You always wear black because it hides blood the best.”

I wonder what’s behind that, the training-wheel-trust question she suggested from days ago, before I left.“Why don’t you tell me one secret, and we’ll go from there. Like why you always wear black.”

“Aye.”

“I used to do the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

She inhales slowly, lets the breath out. “I used to cut myself. I didn’t heal well. If I wore white, there would be little flecks of blood everywhere. I looked like an assault victim.”

That stuns me. “You? Cut yourself? Why?”

“Pain needs an outlet.”

I wait, knowing there will be more, not wanting to disrupt her thoughts before she puts them into words.

“I was this really chubby kid. My parents called me chunky monkey. Thought it was cute, my little belly roll, until I turned ten. Then my mother decided it was a bad reflection on her parenting. My dad thought it was a lack of willpower. A character flaw. They both hated it. And the bigger I got, the more disappointed they were in me, as if my flesh equaled my value. I took up too much space. Even without saying a word, I was too loud. Too obvious. Too overpowering. I had to be gotten under control.”

I listen, riveted, trying to imagine this lion I know as a cub.

“The summer between fifth and sixth grades, they made me go to fat camp.”

“Fat camp?”

“It’s exactly as bad as it sounds. Six weeks of body shaming disguised as education. That’s where I learned I wasn’t okay as I was. I was defective. In order to be okay, in order to be acceptable to society, I had to change. I had to shrink. I couldn’t be allowed to go on in my sad state, thinking my body was fine. Man, what that shit does to a little kid’s brain.”

“I don’t like your parents.”

I say it with too much force. Sloane laughs.

“The weird thing is? I know they had good intentions. They didn’t want my life to be hard, and they thought it would be really hard if I stayed fat. But they never gave me a choice about it. So off I went to fat camp to be humiliated and demoralized on a daily basis. I think they hired the counselors based on lack of a soul. Thelady in charge of me made Kathy Bates inMiserylook like Mary Poppins.”

She stops, sighing.

“What’s the name of this fat camp?”

“You’re not going to burn it down.”

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s sweet. But it’s closed now, anyway. The state finally stepped in when they had too many reports about the beatings.”

“Beatings?” I repeat loudly.

“Oh, not me. I got really good at hiding.”