Tales from the Garden of Eden (COMPLETED)

Chapter 14

The worst was the hunger. Or startling lack thereof. I had heard of this phenomena with anorexics and malnourished persons: that the body quits sending hormones for hunger to your brain because it believes that there is not enough food and goes into a starvation mode. The topic was interesting in Human A&P, but terrifying out here.

     Because with the lack of hunger comes the revelation that Jack and I are, in fact, starving.

     Three weeks went by, the time for my period has come and passed with no hint of blood, and the food, which was a source of comfort, is almost gone.

     Jack put us on a strict ration, just one meal a day, he goes out during the day to try and find something to eat. Normally, I stay huddled in the sleeping bag in the cave, too nauseous to stand or even move.

     Time is counted by the coming and goings of Jack. Occasionally he breaks the silence to tell me a story, but my vision is languid and often comes and goes without my permission. I knew I was dying, and the sad part was, I didn't even have the energy to care.

~

     On the fourth week (or was it the fifth?) the cold set in. Hodge's ring, which I wore on my middle finger, was too big and too cold to put on my fingers. The sleeping bag no longer kept me warm and the clothes that once fit snugly hung off of my shoulders like bags. Shivering as though I was naked, the chattering of my teeth woke Jack up, and he pulled me closer to his chest.

     In that moment, the terror set in. Sobbing like a baby, I cried into his not-warm-enough chest until his calming rubs on my back lulled me into a cry-induced sleep.

     ~

     "Hey, Eden, eat this." Jack gives me a scrap-only a couple of bites-of meat. To anyone else, it would have looked like what is left over with dinner, but to Jack, this was his food for a day.

Unfortunately to my sick mind, this gift stirs up nothing but nausea and disgust. The thought of food sends me gagging with my back towards Jack. The nauseous sensation that fills my stomach is enough for tears to prick my eyes and a gasp to fall from my lips.

He rushes over to me. He, who has done nothing but try to protect me and care for me. Yet he, without knowing it, created this sated complex that didn't allow me to eat. The logic was twisted and frankly illogical, but I didn't care. I needed someone to blame for all of the shit happening inside of me, and he was there. Over time, I came to believe that he really is the reason I feel like this. If he hadn't made us ration food, I wouldn't have this blank sensation of emptiness in my stomach that couldn't be filled. But I knew, wholeheartedly, that if we hadn't rationed, we'd have no food left.

I came back to reality with Jack pulling me closer, meat forgotten on the cold ground, and his words cajoling a response from me. I give him no response other than a sob in his chest and my teeth chattering with the wind, but this contact, I know, is enough for him.

Once I have calmed down, he pulls away slightly, hands grasping my head and forcing me to look at him. "What was that about, babe?"

I clench my teeth and crunch my eyebrows. Seeing as my breathing hadn't gotten back to normal, words would sound incoherent at the moment. I hold a hand up, nodding at him and trying to get my breathing under control.

"I can't eat, Jack. I just can't. The thought of that-it-" I make a face. "It makes me sick to my stomach. Honestly, anything more than a few bites would make me throw up." I look up from my boring stare at the rocks to meet his comforting eyes.

Only the eyes which stare back into mine are not comforting. They are mad. Angry, it seems, at me, and what I assumed was my weakness. But his words dash that theory. "That's bullshit. Fucking bullshit and you know it. It's not that you can't eat, it's that you won't. I don't know whether you're doing this in order to protect me or save me, or that maybe this is some sort of coping mechanism? Is that it? Are you anorexic now or something? Jesus, Eden, this isn't a game! If you want to get out of here alive, you're going to have to eat." He stands up abruptly, causing me to fall onto the floor and tears to spring to my eyes. He should be happy. I think. This is the most emotion I've shown in weeks. "Oh, and eat that meat. We're leaving right now."

That elicits the biggest response from me. In the weeks which we've been here, there has been no noise from either of us about moving. Or from him at least, whereas on the other hand there's been no noise period from me.

I had assumed that staying put was the permanent plan. That we we're going to stay put and let them come to us. But these past weeks seemed to have taken a toll on stir-crazy Jack. I voice my thoughts hesitantly, deciding to keep quiet about his brashness. "I-I thought that plan was to stay here?" My voice is quiet, timid, and scared.

He turns abruptly, looking at me coldly. "And how well is that plan working out, huh?" His voice sends shivers down my spine, and I can feel me drawing into myself.

But simultaneously, I can feel myself getting angry. Jack was mad and taking it out on me, completely in injustice. "Jack, I was the one who wanted to keep walking. You decided that it would be better to stay in one place, you are the reason we're here. Don't get mad at me for your mistakes." My voice has the most emotion I've emitted since it happened. If Jack was going to get mad at me for everything, I sure as hell could too.

He shakes his head at me, knowing that he is wrong but too prideful to admit it. "Then come on, we're leaving."

I roll my eyes and stand up, dizziness taking over. The world spins and my head feels like it is being hit repeatedly on the rocks, which I am using for support. Swaying in a nonexistent breeze, I know that Jack notices me struggling, yet makes no move to help me. The thought hurts, but I swallow my feelings. He's angry, I think. Just let him be.

The wooziness dims and my vision returns to normal in time, time which Jack has used to pack his backpack and put out the remedial fire we had going. It didn't get past my attention that in his mouth was the meat, which he offered me. Slowly, without much conviction, I roll up my sleeping bag and stuff everything into my backpack. It doesn't go unnoticed that the pack is much lighter than I remembered it to be, with most of the food gone now.

I trudge as fast as my weakened body would let me toward Jack, who is standing right outside the camp we had been in for the past month. He scans the wilderness, startlingly the same as it had been the last time I had been out here, and shrugs. "I say that way. I think we came in that way." He points across the valley, and a shiver wracks my body.

He doesn't look at me for affirmation-what good would I be, anyway?-and begins a busy pace towards the open. I follow, silent and obedient, until he orders us to stop.