I'm Sorry I Can't Be Perfect

Title from Simple Plan song. Anyway, I wrote this a little while ago, and looking back I don't even know why. Heavy involvement of eating disorders! And therefore could be triggering. Anyway. May delete this. Maaaaan

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1. Chapter 1

 

I awoke with the soft white bed sheets crumpled around my knees and a stream of bright, golden sunlight shining softly onto my face. I winced as my eyes adjusted to the bright light, like when you turn on a light in the darkness.

 

I heard footsteps in the kitchen followed by the poor, loud singing that could only belong to one person; my Jared. I grinned and slipped out of bed to greet him. I was wearing my favourite set of pyjamas, little shorts and a matching blouse type thing. Jared was wearing his favourite shirt, and a clean pair of jeans, while flipping pancakes merrily whilst humming and tapping his bare feet against the hard wooden floor. I peered at the kitchen table. Jared had laid out the baby pink placemats and had picked pink roses that stood proudly in the centre of the table. Using my tall wine glasses that he pulled out from the back of my cupboard, he had filled them with orange juice and little pink straws poking out from them. A steaming bowl of scrambled eggs paired with the silver rack of granary toast that stood on the table as well.

 

I had got up early, sneaking out of Kay’s large bedroom to go and make her breakfast. I needed to make an effort, it seemed she was always doing so for me and I never do for her. I was making pancakes, even though I knew it would be hard to make her eat them. Oh well, I’d try. I laid the table, even running down to the apartment gardens and grabbing handfuls of the beautiful pink roses that Kayleigh complimented every time we walked past them.

 

I laughed quietly to myself, and Jared turned around, with a goofy grin plastered on his face and the hot pan still in his hand.

 

“Good morning, sunshine. I made you breakfast, have a seat!” he announced somewhat proudly, setting the pan carefully back on the stove and rushing to pull out a chair for me to sit at.

 

She looked beautiful this morning. Even in her pyjamas with her hair messy, she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I’m lucky to have her. I made sure I treat her with the respect that she deserves. I pulled the chair back and let her sit down before rushing back to the stove and ensuring the pancakes didn’t burn.

 

“Good morning honey. It all looks...” I hesitated, and took a deep breath. “Lovely. Just wonderful, thank you. I love the roses especially; they’re from the garden, aren’t they? You picked them yourself?”

 

“Hey, quit it, you’ll ruin my masterpiece!” he protested as he saw me pluck a flower from the vase and inhaling its sweet scent. He then slid the finished pancake from the pan straight onto the plate in front of me.

 

It all did look wonderful; actually, I just wasn’t particularly interested in eating. But I suppose Jared knew this. I pulled my knees up in front of me and twirled the rose between my fingers. Jared had his back turned, fixing another pancake for himself, most likely a few times bigger than mine, and more well done. Jared likes all his food extremely well done. I busied myself examining mine.

 

I was making myself one, but I made it bigger. It seems pathetic but even making her portions smaller I could fool her into eating a little. It sounds deceptive but I need Kayleigh to eat. I can’t let her carry on like this. I glanced over my shoulder so see her staring at the pancake. Kayleigh, come on, I thought to myself. Just eat the pancake.

 

It was about five inches in diameter, and about a quarter inch tall. But by the time I had finished assessing all of its nutritional values and the calorie content; Jared had turned around with a pancake of his own. He sat down, and looked up at me, beaming.

 

“Did you sleep well then, Jar?” I asked conversationally.

 

“I did! I love sleeping at your house; your bed is so much comfier than mine. Did you sleep well?”

 

It’s true, she’s lucky to have well-off parents. I sometimes wish I didn’t come from a family who forgot about me. That way, Kayleigh wouldn’t have to put up with me staying here all the time.

 

“I did, actually.”

 

“No nightmares?”

 

“Not this night, for a change!” I said brightly, still not touching the pancake. He noticed, the smile vanishing from his face.

 

“Are you going to eat it, Kay?” he asked me nervously. I tore my eyes from the pancake to look at him.

 

“I want to, but-” I began before he cut me off.

 

“Then why don’t you? You deserve it, Kay,” he said, already with his mouth full.

 

She had to eat it. She had to eat something.

 

“I can’t,” I said hesitantly.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I... I’m allergic to pancakes.” It was an extremely feeble excuse. I knew Jared could tell I was lying. He saw right through it, not wanting to play along this time.

 

I knew what she was doing. She wasn’t allergic to pancakes, but she was trying to avoid eating. I was having none of it.

 

“Have some eggs then. I know you’re not allergic to eggs.” He put down his own knife and fork and piled some eggs on my plate alongside the pancake, and he beamed at me. I was literally close to tears. He noticed. Once again, the smile fading from his face leaving behind an expression which was as cold as the pancake.

 

“Honey, it’s only a little pancake. You’ll be perfectly okay. I promise.”

 

“But-” he took the flower from my hand and replaced it in the vase.

 

“Just one bite, Kay. Please? For me?”

 

I stared at my plate. Slowly, I began to slice the pancake into four pieces, then eight, then sixteen. After a hesitation, I chose the smallest piece I could find on the plate and, using my fork, raised it to my mouth.

 

After about a minute of extremely dawdling chewing, I swallowed. Jared, still watching me intensely, grinned exceedingly proudly.

 

She did it. Even if it was one bite, it was one bite more than she planned to have.

 

“Well done, honey. I’m so proud of you. Can you manage another piece?”

 

I shook my head vigorously, and fled to the bathroom, hands over my mouth, knocking my glass of orange juice over in the process. I didn’t even hear the glass smash; my head was spinning with voices.

 

Slamming the door shut, I crouched in my usual position with my head in the toilet bowl and got rid of all those nasty calories I had just consumed. This time it was easier because it was only just consumed, no real need for the usual process. Totally glamorous style

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