text: Sensitive Content Warning: eating disorders, underage drinking Oliver hoped that this Thanksgiving would be better than last year's. To be fair, he didn't think he was setting a very high bar. Family members that Oliver only saw once or twice a year made comments about how much more beautiful his sister was now that she was “all better,” Oliver sympathized with her but didn’t dare to comment on how horrendously inappropriate the comments were, especially coupled with the next set of comments being about how much Oliver had grown and how his appetite must be huge as a growing boy. This Thanksgiving would certainly not be better than last year’s. “Actually, we don’t make comments about people’s bodies here. We all worry about ourselves and what’s on our own plate,” Adalyn said with a forced smile directed toward one of their clueless, old-fashioned aunts. Adalyn’s group therapy sessions included rehearsing these comeback comments for weeks leading up to Turkey Day. Turns out, it had been entirely necessary. Oliver looked to his sister as his aunt stuttered an apology in her general direction; Adalyn nodded as if she was listening but her eyes were fixed firmly on her plate, stabbing a few poor defenseless, saltless, butterless green beans with her fork. Adalyn shot Oliver a look, prompting Oliver to look back at his own plate, which had been overfilled with greed. Not to mention the soda he’d been drinking. He did need to worry about his own plate. - “You’re better than this...” Oliver said to his reflection in the steamy mirror. He wiped away the traces of vomit from his face with a piece of toilet paper and threw it in the bathroom trash. His family was downstairs, all chattering about, watching football, drunk off of cocktails, and heading towards a food coma territory from the abundant Thanksgiving spread. Oliver was drunk off of power from having used the Thanksgiving dinner undo button he had discovered last year. While he could get at least most of the food up as if it had never happened, he couldn’t seem to fix what really led him here. Thanksgiving was once Oliver’s favorite holiday, but these days, thoughts of food and weight have made it the most dreaded holiday of all. This was a day that everyone was supposed to be thankful for what they have, so what do we do about it? Binge. If anyone knew what he was about to do when he left them all downstairs, they didn’t mention it. Fine by him. But if anyone had dared to ask him what he was up to or speak a single word of concern toward his behavior lately, he thought he might spill his guts to quite literally anyone who asked. Maybe it would have prevented the entire crime scene he had to clean up from the bathroom before anyone found out. There was no use trying to cover it up anyway; his ever-so-perfect sister had once been in his shoes and the hubbub over her was colossal. Their mom and dad had dropped everything for her; their mom had stayed home with her to make sure she was eating even long after the treatment center stint. After all, she’s a girl and everyone knew what to look for. A rite of passage in a way, falling into the same traps all of the girls in the family seemed to. Oliver’s struggles had gone unnoticed. You can’t be a boy with a girl problem and expect people to notice. When Adalyn had gotten sick, he’d been angry. He had to live in Adalyn’s movie and she was the main character. But now Oliver knew better, life is more like an ensemble piece. Just as Adalyn had her very special episode, now it was his turn. He cleaned up the mess he’d left, and almost as an afterthought, he got into the running shower to turn the lie he’d told into a half-truth. - After the adults had all sobered up enough to go their own ways until they would meet again on Christmas, and the parents were upstairs gossiping about the new family drama, the two teenagers were left alone. Adalyn appeared with a half-empty bottle of wine and two plastic cups in her hand. “I figured we could use a little treat after the horrors we have endured,” she said with a smile. Oliver’s eyes darted back and forth from the bottle of wine in Adalyn’s pink-nailed hand to her face. She rolled her eyes. “They won’t notice, there’s still plenty left.” She set the cups on the coffee table, pouring the remainder of the wine into them. When one had a little more than the other, she poured from the fuller cup until she was sure they were even, and handed one to Oliver. “How are you doing?” Oliver asked her, both hands cupped around the chilled cup of wine as if it was going to warm him up. Adalyn took a long sip before she answered. “I’m fine, really. I’m doing a lot better,” Adalyn said. “But how are you?” Oliver hesitated, and followed suit by swallowing a mouthful of sparkling wine, but found that he had nothing to say on the subject. “I mean... I’m fine.” Adalyn blinked at him a few times before turning her attention back to her drink, she stared into it as if it had answers that Oliver didn’t have for her. “I know what you’ve been doing,” Adalyn said, then took another sip without looking back up at her brother. “I’m not doing anything,” Oliver said, shaking his head. Whether he was trying to deny it or ignore it was anyone’s guess. “Then why did you leave in the middle of dinner?” Adalyn asked. “I was taking a shower,” Oliver said, holding up a few strands of his still-damp hair to prove his point. “In the middle of dinner?” “I felt gross,” Oliver said, shrugging. “I know,” Adalyn said pointedly. Oliver crumbled, he knew he’d been caught. As much as he thought he wanted someone to notice or care, he'd already seen the consequences of his sister being caught and he didn’t want them. He didn’t want the fanfare and he didn’t want to go away like Adalyn did, and most of all he did not feel ready to let go. “I know I’m better than this.” “No. You deserve better than this.”