Chapter 37
THE SCARE
ZEKE
Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye before I had to report to my new unit.
Hands down, the best two weeks of my life.
Maggie and I spent every moment together.
We explored all of Camp Humphreys, then ventured out for a couple days in Seoul.
The language barrier wasn’t as difficult as we expected since so many South Koreans knew English from the American presence in the area.
We managed to go to the top of the North Seoul Tower, tour the Gyeongbokgung Palace, and visit several street markets loaded with food, clothing, and jewelry unlike anything we’d ever seen.
Every night turned into date night, whether we went out to one of the post-sponsored activities or stayed in.
We laughed until tears ran down our cheeks watching Korean television where we each made up the dialogue.
Our versions grew more and more ridiculous as the shows went on, and at one point I had Maggie laughing so hard that water came out of her nose.
The only thing that confused me were the sleeping arrangements.
All three of the bedrooms had a bed, dresser, and end table, but the first night there, Maggie asked to sleep in the primary bedroom by herself.
The last thing I wanted to do was pressure her, especially for something I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted myself, yet I went to bed every night feeling empty and bereft.
Our marriage seemed so fun and easy that I simply figured going to bed at night would be like a slumber party with a friend.
Maggie, I guess, didn’t feel the same way.
I ignored it in favor of focusing on the positive. And life with Maggie had an overabundance of positive. I couldn’t remember another time in life where I smiled as much as I had over the past two weeks.
Now everything would change again. Work resumed and we had to find our new normal with it.
I assured Maggie that she didn’t need to find a job if she didn’t want to because I’d overheard a lot of other soldiers before grumbling about how difficult it was for their spouse to find work.
There were only so many options available when stationed in a foreign country.
I earned enough to cover our expenses, so I didn’t want Maggie to feel pressured to contribute when she didn’t need to be.
She still hadn’t mentioned anything about the money she owed Spencer, though.
Leaving her that first morning was both exhilarating and sad.
I hated not spending the entire day with her, but I loved looking forward to seeing her smiling face when I came home.
My new unit seemed fairly standard; Staff Sergeant Whittenburg would be my immediate superior, and his welcome speech included a promise to get me before the promotion board as soon as possible.
He insisted on all of his soldiers excelling in leadership.
I sensed something was wrong as soon as I opened the door to the apartment later that evening. The faint sound of water running surprised me. My office was only a few blocks away from the apartment, and I texted Maggie shortly before I left. Why would she wait to take a shower now?
“Trouble?” I called, knocking on her bedroom door. The force of my knuckles was enough to open it, the water sounds growing louder. I paused, waiting for a response, before I poked my head in through the gap. “Maggie?”
Clothes exploded across every surface as though Maggie tossed them around rather than hang them up. The door to the bathroom stood ajar, but I couldn’t see anything or anyone inside.
“Maggie, answer me!” My heart began to pound. Danger became second nature to assess in my line of work and warning bells now rang out in my head. “I’m coming in!”
I shoved open the bathroom door hard enough to leave a dent in the drywall behind it, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than Maggie’s naked, crumpled body on the floor in front of a full length mirror.
Only the mirror had markings all over—circles, lines, even an exclamation point in a cipher I didn’t understand.
Tears streamed down Maggie’s face as she stared off into nothing.
A whimper escaped her mouth, stirring me to action.
“Maggie! Baby, what happened?” I dropped to the floor and pulled her into my lap. Leaning my back against the tub and hauling Maggie’s shivering frame against my chest, I could hear her teeth chatter as she whimpered again.
“Zeke, I can’t—I can’t—” Maggie stuttered. Words turned into a blubbering cry and she pressed her face into my chest to muffle the sobs.
“Baby, you’re scaring me right now! What happened? What’s wrong?” I yelled. All composure left my body. Maggie was hurt, in one way or another, and I would turn the earth inside out before I let it continue.
She sniffled and mumbled into my jacket, something that sounded like “ten pounds.”
“What’s ten pounds, Maggie?” I screamed. “What?!”
“I gained almost ten pounds!” A wail, full of the worst kind of pain, followed.
“Huh?” My brain spun in circles trying to make sense of what Maggie said versus the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t connect the dots. “What does that have to do with this?”
She sobbed again and the noise shot straight through my heart. “I can’t do it, Zeke! I can’t live like this! I can’t gain weight here with you!” The blubbering took over again, muffled as she returned to the hiding spot on my chest.
“Maggie, baby, we’ve been out having fun! It’s fine that you gained weight! That’s okay! You’re beautiful!” I didn’t know what to do or say, and I hated feeling so helpless. I didn’t understand what she tried to tell me.
Her whole body wracked with sobs as she shook her head into my jacket. “No, I’m not!” she wailed again. “I’m ugly! I’m so ugly! Zeke, help me! I’m so ugly!” Maggie succumbed to more sobs, these even harder than before. She started to jerk as though seizing from the hyperventilation.
I grabbed her firmly by both biceps, holding her an arm’s length away so that I could see her face.
I needed her to focus on me and breathe or she would pass out.
It was then I noticed that she still held a thick black eyeliner pencil in her hand, and the marks on the mirror imitated marks on her body.
Realization clicked. Maggie had drawn these on herself…
because she loathed her own body. Scanning in abject horror, my mouth fell open as I saw where she wrote things like FAT and GROSS over her stomach and thighs.
This was the first time I’d ever seen her nude body, and I doubted I’d ever get the image out of my head.
How could my stunning, gorgeous wife see herself like this? !
“Baby, I have to get you help,” I said, my voice coming out a hoarse whisper. “We—we have to get you help. Just hold on, okay?”
Either she was so far gone in her misery or she simply didn’t realize what I was doing, but I managed to pull my cell phone out of my pocket and call the emergency number I programmed in upon our arrival at the registration office. Basically a Camp Humphreys version of 911.
“Emergency Services,” a calm female voice answered, “how can I help you?”
“Hi,” I croaked out, “I need paramedics for my wife immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” the woman replied. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Tears streamed down my own face as Maggie gasped for air against my chest, her cries intermittently broke up with mumblings about weight and ugliness.
“I think she has an eating disorder,” I explained, “and I think something finally snapped.”