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Fighting Weight Page 25


  Taking a deep breath from my spot on the couch in Kristie’s office at Sheena’s Place, I open up the folded piece of paper, toss my grape gum in the trash, clear my throat, and steady myself to read the most personal letter I’ve ever written, knowing Kristie’s right and this will be cathartic. It will be drawing a final line in the sand against Her.

  Dear Bully,

  First, I want to thank you for being there when I needed you. You came when I was vulnerable and needed a friend, and I invited you in with open arms. For a long while, you became my only friend—soothing and comforting me when I felt I had no one else. You were there, with a sly smile and with praise when I needed it. We may have started off like acquaintances, you only coming when I needed you, when once in a while I’d turn to you for help. You remember, when I needed to get Liz off my back or fit into a certain dress, or wanted to indulge in everything I wanted to eat guilt-free? We were just acquaintances, until suddenly we were much more than that. I can’t pinpoint the exact date it happened, but as the years passed, you had become my best friend, coming around daily until I lost myself in you.

  You became my everything—and then, you changed.

  And changed me, too.

  You turned your back on me, you broke me, and became the worst-kept secret of my life. You became the one voice I could never quiet. You made my hair fall out, my bones ache, and you were the “best friend” who encouraged me to punch myself in the stomach to make sure I had nothing left in there. You made me so fucking weak and tired, and still, like the good friend I was trying to be, I loved you.

  But it wasn’t real love; I was addicted to you! Even when you became that taunting voice, echoing the words of my childhood—putting me down, always there to remind me of how fat, ugly, or awful I was—I still loved you, even as you broke my heart. You encouraged me to eat and eat; taught me to perfect shoving my fingers down my throat so I could feel better about me, so I’d never gain; you twisted the way I saw myself, making me believe I was never, ever going to be good enough. You made me believe those words like they were gospel, the way you replayed my mom’s and aunt’s comments on repeat, while holding me captive in your game. You never cared for me, you just wanted to hold me under your spell. You stole my self-control, my ability to see past your voice, robbing me of so many things in life, experiences I’ll never get back. And for that, I hate you. For that, we’re over.

  The worst part, though? I let you. I’m the stupid one who welcomed you, but now it’s over. I know we’ve been together more or less since I was thirteen years old, and even though I’ll miss you and think of you from time to time, I’m letting you go. And I need you to release me from your clutches, too. Let me go willingly and stay away. Because, if not, there’ll be hell to pay this time around.

  I’m not alone anymore. I have an army of people who care about me, support me and encourage me. People who make me feel and believe I’m enough. That I am worth it. And they’re all ready to fight alongside me, rather than against me like you did! It’s taken me a long time to realize that we were never really friends. It was just you consuming me, and I see that now. I’m ready to stand on my own two feet again.

  So, fuck you, Bully, because I, Alina Jayne Cassidy, am so over this, so over you. There’s no more room for you inside of me. I am stronger than you now. I’m in control, and for the first time in years, I truly feel it’s over. We’re through. I know our parting won’t be easy, but I’ll never give in to you again. You don’t deserve me. I deserve love, not hate. I see that now, and I’m going after what I deserve. And this time, you are not invited.

  Sincerely,

  Alina

  I finish reading as sobs start to wrack my body. Snot clogs my throat and tears sting my eyes, but then I break out in a fit of laughter.

  “I feel free, Kristie. I finally feel free.”

  “You are free, Alina. You are, believe it. And keep that letter close. Read it over whenever you think of her. You can do this, Alina.”

  54

  Alina

  Roar!

  Roar!

  Roar!

  My phone is going crazy as replies to my message in the Happenstance group chat continue to earn reactions. Unable to hide my smile, I tap open the app. For the first time in a long while, I don’t worry about what I might find. I know they’ll be happy to have me back.

  Paisley: Oh Ali, that’s great news! Can’t wait to squeeze you!!! Are you feeling better?

  Siobhán: omg tomorrow? yippee! what time do you land?

  Roxie: Yay! Best news ever. Slater and the guys know? Of course *duh*. Day made, Ali. Miss you. Need you back where you belong!

  I read each reply to the news of my coming to Montreal a day earlier than I’d initially planned. After my session with Kristie today, I’d felt liberated, my shoulders lighter than they have felt in years. I wanted to get back with my friends and Slater as soon as possible.

  Once I was on the TTC travelling home after therapy, I’d messaged Slater right away to see if he could help me arrange an earlier flight. Within ten minutes it was done. I’m not sure Sicken Union could function without the magic of Victoria Vu.

  Me: I’m so excited to get back with you guys. I miss you all terribly! Yes, I feel so much better. Ready to end this tour with a bang! I land at 11:15AM

  Immediately, I see those familiar three dots.

  Roxie: That’s so great, Ali. Mean it, damn proud of you. Can’t wait to get you back!

  Me: Sorry I’ve been such a mess, but I promise, I’m in a really good place now.

  Shiobhán: going to pretend you didn’t just apologize again. you know we don’t care as long as you’re all right. you’re all we care about! now get back here!

  Paisley: Truth!! Hurry up and get here, I agree!!!

  Me: LOL I love you guys, I’ll see you tomorrow. Xox

  Shiobán: count on it!

  Roxie: Yes! Luv u!

  Paisley: Do you need a pick up? We can Uber to meet you?

  Me: No, I’m okay. Slater is meeting me, and he’s arranged a car.

  Roxie: Of course he has ;)

  Me: :)

  Placing my phone on the carpet beside me, I pull out my journal and begin writing the lyrics to a new song; one I’m calling “Chains”. Sitting up in the treehouse feels different tonight. I feel unburdened and my mind isn’t replaying and analyzing each and every word Kristie and I talked about. Instead, the only lines I keep hearing are Kristie’s response to my finally feeling free.

  I reach over to the small bookshelf, and pick up my self-soothe box. It’s the one Slater bought me, and it’s my favourite so I brought it home with me. Opening it, I place the letter inside, knowing this is the box I’ll be taking back with me tomorrow. This one holds memories, as well as things that represent what I hold closest to me now: a selfie of me and Lucky here in the tree; a picture of the girls and I onstage at our show in Whitehorse; Slater’s ticket stub from the space centre in Vancouver; my favourite Vincent van Gogh quote; a few notes and reminders; some grape gum I took from Kristie’s office; a hair tie; a miniature plane Slater gave me before I left Vancouver so I’d know he’d miss me; and, now…my goodbye letter to the bully.

  Lucky isn’t home tonight, and Slater hasn’t texted me back since this afternoon. I’m trying really hard not to dwell on that. In order to keep myself from thinking too much about it, because I know he’s just busy, I grab one of the astronomy books, set up the telescope, and prepare to research a new constellation. One I can teach Lucky all about, for a change, when he gets home from work later to join me. When we’d first landed, Lucky had told me he was going to take the next few days off so he could be around in case I needed him, an idea I shut down immediately. Too tired of having Lucky always feeling compelled to take care of me, I got angry and told him in no uncertain terms that he was not taking the time off. After a heated and somewhat long discussion, Lucky finally smiled and relented, telling me he admired the fire he could see in my eyes this time.
It was in that moment I knew I really was going to beat Her this time around. Not only did I feel it, but one of the people who has seen me at my lowest could see it, too.

  The melody of “I’d Rather See Your Star Explode” by Slaves kicks in on my iPhone speaker. Just as I’m about to try to find the beautiful in the night’s sky, I hear a familiar phrase. And I smile.

  “Room for one more up there tonight?”

  It isn’t Lucky, though, only his words. Instead, the voice belongs to someone else. Someone who’s come to mean as much to me as Lucky and the stars do.

  Slater.

  55

  Slater

  Standing at the bottom of the narrow staircase, I’m nervous as fuck. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I felt like this—this—nerves on fire, blood pumping, heart beating so outta whack in anticipation of knowing I’m going to see her. I’m taking a pretty big risk by showing up here unannounced, but I’m hoping like hell things go my way. Deep down I know they will.

  I couldn’t stomach being away from her any longer. Alina Cassidy has quickly become my home, and standing here now, I know without a doubt this girl is my future. I’d give it all up tomorrow to keep her, something that scares me, yet somehow also doesn’t. When you’re on tour, you spend so much time together that you notice when someone’s missing, and I’ve definitely noticed Ali’s absence. Three days away is two too many. Who would have thought it was possible that after three days apart I’d be so enamoured, maybe even a little pathetic by my old standards? I blame Alina for captivating me from the start. Being so close on the tour, I didn’t stand a chance. I was a goner without a hope in hell, trying to wade against her tide. That girl pulled me in, and now I hope she never lets me go. Spending all our free time together, talking, kissing, rehearsing, hanging with our friends and the other bands, and just being with her watching movies, I’ve fallen so hard. I love her.

  Ali’s expected to fly to Montreal tomorrow morning, says she’s excited to be onstage again, and promises she’s in a really good place, the best she’s been in a long time. And best of all, she says she misses me, too. We’ve talked and texted each other as much as our schedules have allowed these past two days and I can tell she’s feeling better. I believe her and have faith in her.

  Yet here I stand under her treehouse in Scarborough, working up the nerve to call to her. I’m not only here because I miss her, I’m here to see her with my own eyes because there’s no way in hell I’m willing to risk Ali’s health by adding any relationship stress she might not be ready for. I know we miss each other, but I won’t be selfish here. It will always be about her going forward. Ignoring the implications of that thought right there, I know I need to get the fuck out of my head.

  “Room for one more up there tonight?” I call out the phrase as Lucky had instructed.

  Lucky assured me when we’d spoken earlier that Ali would be more than happy to see me, too. Apparently, she’s been talking to him about me, about how important I’ve become to her, which has me really fucking happy. He also reassured me that my showing up to her special place—the treehouse—would be a good idea. Lucky didn’t get into the details of the treehouse’s significance, other than saying it was Ali’s story to tell, before warning me not to be offended if she didn’t invite me up.

  “Slater?” I see Ali’s shocked face peering down over the edge of the treehouse.

  “Hi, Shadow.”

  “Oh god, it’s you! You’re really here! Come up, come up,” she says, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. I take the steps two at a time. I know being invited to come up there without any hesitancy on her part is a humongous victory, one I may never even understand the significance of.

  I bend to make it through the smallish threshold. Ali smiles, taking me in for only a second before she bolts at me, practically jumping into my arms, wrapping herself around my neck and waist before pulling me down for a soul-sucking kiss. Fuck, I’ve missed her.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she cries, “what are you doing here? I’m happy, don’t get me wrong, but why? Aren’t you supposed to be in Montreal?” she asks, pulling away to look at me as if still processing that I’m really here with her.

  It takes a moment to register her questions, because I’m hard as a rock. I can feel her heat radiating between us, where our bodies brush against each other. And the tiny movements and moans she’s making are going to kill me. Three days. Never again. We haven’t come close to having sex, it’s just been a lot of heavy make out sessions, some over the clothes groping on my part, and a whole lot of me jerking off alone to thoughts of my girl (a situation that has been virtually unheard of for me in the past, but truth be told, I’m completely okay with it). My needs are the last thing Ali needs on the table right now, but trust me, if she were to offer the meal, I’d eat her up like the starved man she’s made me. I cannot wait to one day be inside this girl, to show her how beautiful she is inside and out, to give her everything she deserves. I unravel myself from her limbs, and set her back down on the floor of the treehouse. I adjust myself not so discreetly, which earns me a sly smile. “Keep that shit up and you might kill me,” I tell her, half-joking, and she laughs. Damn, I love that sound.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  “Well, I missed you. And I also heard you have an upcoming flight. You can’t possibly fly without your airplane buddy, now, can you?” I ask, rubbing my hand along her soft cheek.

  “I’m glad you’re so thoughtful,” she says, leaning into my touch, and I think about lifting her up and making out again.

  “Me too,” I say, pulling back and taking a moment to look around the coolest treehouse I’ve ever seen. “This place is incredible.” I move under the glass panes in the roof, tilt my neck, and look up at the starry night sky through the few branches. The view is spectacular.

  “This is my favourite place in the world. Only Lucky’s ever been up here with me. Until now,” she says in a whisper, as if my being here is only just sinking in for her.

  “I can go, baby. We can go sit inside or at the picnic table,” I suggest, and stand back up.

  “No. I—it’s funny, I invited you in without thinking, as if it were normal. As if you belong here,” she admits, cocking her head to the side. Within seconds, her lips pull up into a brilliant smile. “You belong here with me.”

  “I belong to you.” And then I relent, stepping towards her. I take her face in both my hands and rest my forehead against hers. “I sure as hell hope you’ll take me.”

  “I’m never letting go.”

  I take her lips with mine, thankful I took a risk where Alina Cassidy was concerned because, once again, the reward is worth it in spades.

  “Let’s lay down over here.” She gestures to a carpeted area, which is covered in pillows. “I owe you a story, so pull up a cushion and get comfy. It’s a long one,” Ali says, as she breaks our kiss. Once again, I feel victorious that she’s ready to share, even though I know this particular story isn’t going to be an easy one for either of us.

  56

  Alina

  “Tell me she’s dead,” Slater demands, standing up from where we’ve been lying on the plush carpet so he can pace the wooden floorboards. I’ve just finished telling him about the things my aunt would say and do to me after Lucky and I had moved in with the McQueens.

  “I’m not sure where they are. I assume still living in the city? After I opened up to Lucky about everything when we went to therapy together, we officially severed our ties with my aunt and uncle. Well, Lucky did, although he does still meet up with our cousin Dean ever so often for coffee, with the agreement that they won’t talk about Liz or Virgil or me. I stopped contact with them a few months after we moved out, and ignored any attempts at communication, so I haven’t seen or heard anything about my aunt or uncle in years,” I say.

  “Tell me that your uncle didn’t know. God, if he knew and didn’t do anything about it…” Slater demands, and I admit I wasn’t
sure. I confessed how I’d spent too many nights contemplating whether or not Uncle Virgil knew how Aunt Liz was treating me and had let it keep happening, or if, like me, he too was suffering in silence under my aunt’s control. I mean, she was a dictator who’d rival the best, and I’d witnessed how she treated him. I don’t know what happened to my mother and her sister when they were growing up, but whatever it was turned them into very toxic people.

  “Promise me it’s over now?” he asks, with a hint of vulnerability and sadness, after I share how I first met my bully on that fateful Thanksgiving night, and how at twenty-four I feel like I’m winning the battle this time for good.

  “Tell me you know it will be different between us, that it’s different all ready,” Slater pleads, when I open up about my body. About how I see myself, what others might see, and worst of all, my fears of how a man like him might react to seeing all of me: my stretch marks, chubby thighs, and dimpled butt cheeks.

  He had been angry when I shared how I couldn’t stomach the idea of being seen, and how I have never allowed a man to touch me other than overtop of my clothes or with only my bottoms off because the thought makes me so sick to my stomach. I told him how I can barely stand to see my own body in the light, so how could I expect anyone else to want to see me? He was furious at my past lovers for not caring enough to make sure I knew how special and beautiful I was, how being with me was a gift. Anger radiated off him as he held me close, whispering over and over again about how beautiful I was, and that he’ll tell me every day until I believed it myself.

  “Tell me you’ll let me fight this with you. Promise me you’ll open up to me, if or when it tries to come back,” he says, his eyes a little glossy, and his voice gruff. I can’t bring myself to say no. “Promise me, Alina. Promise me, here and now.”

  “I’ll try,” I tell him.