One hundred and fifty two pounds.
That number was replaying over and over in my head, constantly screaming at me. It hadn’t budged for days. It was smack dab in the middle of the healthy range for my height, according to some late night googling. But it didn’t feel healthy. It felt the same as one hundred and eighty three. I was still suffocating under all of these extra pounds and I couldn’t understand why people kept telling me I had lost so much. I had lost some, sure, but I still clearly had so far to go.
Every day was a new struggle, finding creative ways to get in my daily runs, tracking down the pitifully small hotel gyms, making different excuses for why I was skipping this meal or that. I put in so much effort just to cover my tracks, keep everyone off my back, that I thought those acrobatics alone ought to be burning enough calories to budge the scales. I was obviously mistaken.
During the days, it was easy enough. We were always on the move, always going from place to place, activity to activity. Rarely did we have a free moment that lasted long enough for a real, sit-down meal. Food had to be grabbed on the go and shoveled in quickly. Everyone was too focused on their own nourishment to notice if I only had a handful of carrots or one of the bottled teas that gave me the energy to keep going.
Nights weren’t as easy. More often than not, we drove straight through from one city to the next. For hours on end, we were confined to the bus, where it was harder for me to hide the fact that I wasn’t consuming anything but soda, tea and the odd vegetable.
Then there were the late night truck stops and diners. If I was lucky, I could find something semi-healthy on the diner menu and pick at it, but truck stops rarely offered anything other than potato chips and candy bars. The stale tasting sandwiches that could often be found in the coolers were my safest bet. Sometimes there were salads, but I didn’t trust truck stop salads. I didn’t really trust truck stops at all, but I didn’t have much of a choice. There were few other options right off the highway and arguing to stop somewhere else would just draw too much unwanted attention.
This particular truck stop, somewhere in the ass crack of Pennsylvania, had an even worse selection than most. It had been the only exit for miles, though, and the bus was running as empty as most of its occupants. My opinion would have meant less than usual, so I kept it to myself and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I walked up and down the aisles filled with empty calories.
Normally, I would bring my video camera into the truck stop with me, but I hadn’t had the energy to dig it out of my bag that night. As soon as I walked in the door, I regretted that. It provided a nice barrier between me and everyone else and distracted them further. Just put a camera in my brothers’ faces and they turned into completely different people, ready to entertain an audience that wasn’t even there. They never noticed the man behind the camera at all, and that was the way I liked it.
I didn’t have that buffer zone on this particular occasion, though. I was forced to wander around and pretend I was actually going to purchase some food. The Snapple in my hand was sweating all over my palm and my eyes were crossing as I stared at all the different, shiny wrappers of the various junk food options. I finally grabbed a few candy bars, deciding that I could just slip them into the stash in our kitchen for anyone to take. At least they would see me buying something and that would be enough to ease the minds of any particularly curious individuals.
With my meager selections in hand, I made my way to the counter. There was a long line, only partially made up of our band and crew, and I grew restless as we inched closer to the one register open at this late hour.
My eyes were drawn to the flashy displays around the counter, offering all sorts of items that no one really needed—or, alternatively, items that it was all too easy to convince yourself that you absolutely needed. Even if you already owned ten cell phone chargers, it wouldn’t hurt to buy an extra, right? Or perhaps a shiny new cigarette lighter emblazoned with the name of whatever town you were currently in.
Something else caught my eye right then, though.
If I’d had any doubt that this was one of the seedier gas stations we’d stopped at, those doubts vanished when I saw the rows of dubious “supplements” hanging from a spinning rack. They all promised energy, pain relief—so many things I needed. As I moved one spot closer to the register, I glanced upon one that was more enticing than the others. Nothing on the bottle overtly said diet pill, but I knew that was what it was. I also knew that it was the barely legal relative of the Adderall I had all too willingly popped days earlier.
And I knew I was going to buy as many packets as the cashier would allow.
I grabbed the only three on the rack and stuffed them in between a Snickers and a Skor bar. It took all the skill I had to balance everything in my arms, and my heart thumped in my chest as I dumped it all unceremoniously onto the counter. The bored cashier didn’t even look up at me as she rang up my purchases and rattled off the total.
As I handed her a few wrinkled bills from the depths of my pocket, I felt like I was getting away with murder.
The plastic bag seemed to weigh fifty pounds as it swung from my arm, but I knew that was impossible. I wondered if everyone could tell what I had done. Was it written all over my face? It must have been, based on the way my cheeks felt like they were on fire. My heart hadn’t stopped thumping yet, pounding out the beat to some unknown song that seemed to be ringing out my guilt for all the world to hear.
I was the first person back on the bus, and for that I was glad. No one needed to witness what I knew I was about to do. Should I have waited until the morning to take these pills I was sure would keep me awake for the rest of the night? The answer to that was obvious. Would I be able to wait? Based on the way my hands shook as I struggled to find one of the shiny, foil packets, I knew the answer to that question was clear, too.
According to the suspiciously short directions on the back, each packet contained enough pills for one day, the doses spaced out and meant to accompany a meal. I ripped the foil open and poured the pills into my hand. Six little green tabs, so innocuous looking. Almost like vitamins. I shoved the other packets in my pocket with my free hand and stared at the pills in my hand. Before I could think better of it, I shoved three of them into my mouth. Half a day’s dose all at once ought to kickstart my body into doing something, I decided. One big swig of my tea and the pills were gone, off to work their magic in my bloodstream. The other three went into my pocket with the unopened packets, and I could only hope they were all safe there until I felt the need to dose myself again. I left the candy bars in the bag on the table, free for the taking, and collapsed onto the couch, waiting to feel whatever effect those pills might have.
Moments later, the bus began to fill up again and it buzzed with activity. There was an almost electrical hum to people sometimes, and the crowd that descended upon the bus right then was positively crackling with it. It made my head ache. My vision blurred, and I felt strangely drunk. It was like suddenly being dumped into hot water, and I feared it would start to boil.
“Oh, sweet!” Isaac exclaimed, his voice barely overcoming the din as he reached into the bag on the table and snatched up a Skor. “Who bought these? I so should have gotten one.”
“You can have it,” I mumbled, the words almost slurred. Was I drunk? I felt drunk.
Isaac eyed me carefully, and I was sure he was asking himself he same question. After a moment, he shrugged and ripped the wrapper off the bar. I gave him a weak smile to assure him that it was fine, even if I was far from fine myself.
I wanted to say something else, but I couldn’t find the words. All I knew was that I couldn’t handle being in that crowd for a moment longer. The bus was closing in on me, and I wondered if anyone else felt that way. Rationally, I knew the feeling was in my imagination, but that didn’t seem to make it any less real. I was going to die here. I was going to suffocate. There was no question about it.
Pushing my way past everyone and through the door, I mumbled what I hoped passed for an apology. I wasn’t sure it really involved words at all so much as just garbled sounds. It was the best I could do right then.
The air outside was cold, colder than I remembered, and I had left my jacket throw across the back of the bus couch. Still, it felt better outside than in that rolling sauna. I gulped in lungfuls of the crisp night air and finally began to feel normal again. My skin was still crawling, but that was nothing new and I wasn’t sure anything would take that feeling away.
I barely even registered the sound of the bus door opening and closing again.
“There you are,” Taylor said, his voice only slightly chastising and more relieved. It was always a struggle to round everyone up again after a long pit stop.
“Are we leaving soon?” I asked, filling with dread at the thought of stepping on the bus again. I could also feel Taylor’s eyes on me, boring into me much the same as Isaac’s had.
“We are. In about five.” he replied. “Are you alright? You look…”
He trailed off, but I was sure there were a dozen words in his vocabulary for how I looked, even if amphetamines were never his drug of choice. None of those words left his mouth, though, because I was sure he couldn’t ever imagine any of them applying to me. I wasn’t so sure I could either, in spite of all the evidence in front of me.
“I’m fine,” I replied, the words coming out in such a sharp burst that they weren’t convincing at all.
“You should get some sleep,” Taylor replied, stepping in closer and putting his hand on my arm.
I jerked my arm back, as though somehow that one touch would reveal all of my secrets to him. Taylor stared down at his hand, his face painted with shock. My temper was nothing new to him, I was sure, but it usually took more than that to set me off. I didn’t like it, but there was nothing I could about it.
I took a few deep breaths and tried to push all of my emotions down as far as they would go.
“Just let me get some fresh air,” I said, my tone as neutral as possible. Emotionless. Completely blank. It wasn’t very reassuring, but it was the best I could manage. “I’ll be on the bus before it pulls out.”
Taylor nodded, but he still recoiled away from me. There had been a brief glimmer of concern in his eyes, but it was gone and I was glad. I did regret snapping at him, but it had gotten the result I had wanted. Whatever he thought my problem was, I was sure it was nowhere near the reality, and his curiosity to know more had been tamped down, at least for the day. It would come back, I knew, but for the moment I could breathe easily knowing I had made it through one more day.
The next day would be better, I decided. With a sudden burst of energy, I headed back to the bus. There wasn’t much I could do to burn off that energy in a thirty foot tour bus, but a video game would burn off some steam and waste away the hours I already knew I wouldn’t spend sleeping. One long, uninterrupted day. Maybe if I never slept again, I wouldn’t have to dread the dreams or the reality that was even worse.