Chapter 43 Elliot #2
“Yes. Why?” Annoyance clawed at my insides, and with my cigarette all finished, I tossed the butt into the glass before me and watched it float, slowly turning the water dirty.
“Did Daniel tell you anything?” I hissed, because it couldn’t be a coincidence that Vito suddenly brought this up.
And when I looked up from the glass and saw the expression on his face, I knew my suspicions were right.
“What did he tell you?” I snarled, anger building inside of me.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t know anything.
He doesn’t know what it’s like being a model, and—”
“And what does it mean, being a model?” Vito interrupted me.
My brows snapped together at his odd question.
“You… You know what it’s like.”
Vito smirked, crossing one leg over the other. “Luckily, I was spared the trouble of being beautiful, and the last time I checked, I lack the talent and height to be a model, so no, I do not know what it’s like.”
Embarrassed, I swallowed back my words when he went on.
“So tell me, Elliot, what is being a model like?”
Wrapping my fingers around my wrist until my index and thumb touched and created a circle, I looked down at my lap. “Being beautiful, I guess.”
“And what’s beauty?”
I shrugged.
“Come on, don’t be shy, tell me. Pretty eyes, big lips, nice nose, good skin, being thin?”
My stomach flipped, and I tightened the hold around my wrist until it hurt.
“I don’t know.”
“I see,” Vito sighed and leaned back in his chair.
The sudden silence that spread between us was unlike him, and the longer he kept quiet, the more nervous I became. But then, he spoke.
“Let me tell you something about myself, tesoro.”
Grateful for the change of subject, I sighed and looked at him.
“When I was around your age, I was in love.” His lips formed a thin smile. “It wasn’t just love, but a great one. Once-in-a-lifetime kind of love.”
“Coup de foudre?” I offered, and his smile turned bigger.
“Exactly.”
I shifted closer with my chair, curious to hear more.
“He was a composer, one with a great future ahead of him. And his music?” Closing his eyes, Vito smiled to himself. “I can still hear it playing in my ears.”
The quietness with which he spoke was all new, as the Vito I’d learned to know over the past year was many things, but never quiet. I guess I never really got to know the real Vito, the one behind the big fashion brand.
“So what happened?” I asked, eager to know the rest.
“He got sick.”
“Oh no.” My smile dropped.
“It was this that got him sick.” He tapped on the side of his head.
“The place he came up with the most magnificent melodies eventually became his prison.” Vito’s lips quivered before he forced them back into a smile that lacked its usual charm.
“You see, my Maestro was a perfectionist, constantly chasing that absurd concept. But what started in his music slowly simmered into his life. His body.” He shrugged, looking around the restaurant almost like he was searching for his next words.
“It started as a diet and went on to days without eating. He kept saying food interrupted his work, and at first, I supported him because I always had. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I realized that the love of my life was vanishing before my own eyes.”
My stomach clenched, and suddenly, I didn’t want to hear the rest of it.
“Vito—”
“Only by the time I realized it, it was too late. Doctors said it was depression. One idiot even called it melancholia.” He tsked, shaking his head.
“But it was none of that. It was anorexia, a disease I’ve unfortunately encountered later in my life more times than I’d like to count.
It’s often overlooked, resulting in tragedies, just like the one that happened to me and my Maestro. ”
Now with his eyes fully set on me, I felt locked. Exposed, and not in a good way. The same feeling of guilt I’d experienced that morning with Daniel came back to haunt me. My skin glistened with sweat, my chest tightened, and I huffed, glancing away.
“I’m sorry you went through that.”
“Elliot, I’m scared you might be suffering from the same thing.”
I already knew he’d say that, so I was prepared to reject his ridiculous idea.
“I’m not.”
“Elliot, listen to me—”
“No,” I snapped, looking him in the eyes. “I will not.”
“Fine.” Crossing his arms, Vito leaned back in his chair. “If you say you don’t have any issue, then I won’t doubt you.”
I breathed in relief because at least, unlike Daniel, Vito believed me—
“But I must insist that before you come back to work for me, you meet with someone.”
“Huh?” I frowned.
“I want you to see a friend of mine, Louise. She’s a therapist, specializing in eating disorders.”
I bit down on my tongue, fighting the urge to snap, because I hated this. Eating disorders? Anorexia? What the hell was he talking about? Those disturbing diseases, they only happened to girls. Women. They didn’t apply to men, and especially not to me.
“You seem upset,” Vito said.
“Of course I am. Because everyone keeps telling me I’m not okay, while I am perfectly fine,” I hissed, my voice tight.
In response, Vito gave me a sympathetic smile that I wanted to wipe off his face.
“Well, if everything is fine like you claim, then see the conversation with Louise as nothing but a friendly chat. Okay?”
It was anything but okay, and my anger didn’t subside even after I said goodbye to Vito.
What was supposed to be a fun lunch had turned into a disaster.
My rage continued to grow, and by the time I reached home, my body throbbed with it.
Everything was Daniel’s fault. It was one thing to say those crazy things to me, but to tell them to Vito?
My boss? Now, I’d probably lose my job because of him.
But why? Why would he sabotage my career?
It made no sense. But just as I reached our condo door, it hit me.
He’s jealous.
I quickly opened the door and stepped inside, slamming it behind me.
Vibrating with anger, I tossed the keys on the floor and looked around.
Daniel was still not here, which was good, because I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he were.
Since we met, he’d always been possessive of me, getting jealous over the slightest attention I received.
He probably couldn’t stomach my success and the fact that others were looking at me, and decided to take action.
You know he would never.
No, I didn’t know that.
He loves you.
He said he loved me, and yet I was still his secret, wasn’t I? Just like I was Jacques’s.
He’s nothing like Jacques.
“Fuck!” I shouted, tears blurring my vision.
Why was it so difficult? Why did they keep saying I was sick—first Daniel and then Vito with his Maestro?
I wasn’t like him, right? Placing my hands on my chest and abs, I took deep breaths.
I wasn’t going to die, and Daniel wasn’t about to watch it, right?
Swallowing hard, I looked at the kitchen and, without thinking twice, dashed toward it. I burst open the fridge’s door, and the first thing that caught my eye was the plate with chocolate éclairs. I grabbed one and shoved the whole thing into my mouth, reaching for another before even swallowing.
I chomped on those damn éclairs, when my eyes moved on to the chouquettes.
Grabbing a handful in each hand, I then brought them to my mouth and tried to shove as many as possible in.
They were sweet, moist, and the cream spilled everywhere, mixing with my tears and snot.
Yet, I didn’t stop there and instead reached for more when the tray fell down to the floor and everything spilled.
Swallowing down the last bite, I got to my knees and began eating them straight from the floor, only to prove that nothing was wrong with me.
When I raised my head to catch a breath, right before me was the Saint Honoré that had taken me hours to make.
Sitting there in the fridge, almost like a prize, it glanced back at me, the caramelized choux mocking me so cruelly.
I wiped my lips with my forearm, then reached forward and grabbed the cake with my bare hands.
Parting my lips, I took a huge bite, the cake crumbling between my fingers, before I took another bite, and another, until I couldn’t breathe anymore.
I was so damn angry that every part of me was on fire, and no matter what I tried to do, I couldn’t control it.
I felt as if a ball of lava was set inside me, and without realizing it, I picked up more food from the floor and shoved it into my mouth, forcing myself to swallow.
It’s so many calories.
I flinched at the thought and looked down.
Chocolate, cream, éclairs, and cake, all that fat and sugar just…
everywhere. My brain went spiraling. In a few seconds, I’d eaten more than I was allowed to eat in a month.
Quickly getting up, I ran toward the sink, crouched over, and stuck two fingers down my throat, shoving them back until I gagged, and everything came out.
The reek of vomit made me retch, only causing me to hurl harder until I felt like I was about to die.
By the time I was done puking, my soul and body were worn-out.
My knees buckled, and so I turned around and slumped down on my ass, catching my breath as I closed my eyes.
But no matter how deeply I tried to breathe, it wasn’t enough, and my lungs felt like they would burst any second now.
But after a few minutes had passed, the pain subsided, and I was able to catch my breath.
Ready to stand up and go back to my evening, I opened my eyes but froze after seeing the mess I’d caused. With pure horror, I stared at the open fridge and the food spilled around it. The floor looked like farm animals had feasted there, but it was no animal—just me.
Fear clenched at my throat, choking me as a wave of pure shock swept over my body.
They were right.
I swallowed hard.
Daniel and Vito… they were right.
Tears once again began to flow down my cheeks.
I have a problem.
A big one.
A problem I’d denied for so long, but now, I couldn’t. Not anymore. Not after I realized I had zero control over this monster. But there was no monster, just me, and glancing back at the mess I left scared me.
I was scared of myself and of what I’d do next.
I realized that the love of my life was vanishing before my own eyes.
Vito’s words came back to haunt me, making my blood run cold.
What if I were the same? A sob escaped me, and I quickly covered my lips, trying to conceal my voice as I continued to cry, almost like it would change something.
But nothing would. Because in the end, once again, I ruined my own life, but not just mine.
Daniel’s, too.