“Her Father’s Daughter” (3rd & last installment)

(continued from Sunday’s post… to start from the beginning of the short story, click here…)

Rebecca walked carefully behind her mother. She watched, shocked, as her mother ripped off her coat, threw it to the floor, got down on her knees in front of the toilet and proceeded to ram her fingers into her mouth.

The gagging sounds began almost immediately. Rebecca was mystified by her mother’s cat-like contortions as their feast began to leave her body and land in the water.

Soon, nothing more was coming up. Her mother daintily wiped her mother with a piece of tissue and flushed. She stood gingerly and said with a grin, “Your turn.”

Rebecca cautiously walked to the commode and looked down. The rim of the bowl was splattered a little with the remains of her mother’s purge. She trembled as her mother put her hands on Rebecca’s shoulders and forced her into a praying position.

“Put your finger down your throat.” It was an order, and with unfailing obedience, Rebecca did as she was told.

She only touched the back of her tongue. Nothing happened.

“Further,” her mother coaxed, actually grabbing Rebecca’s hand and forcing it into her mouth.

Rebecca moved her finger. Nothing. Nothing. Then a churning in her gut. She quickly withdrew her hand. It had been an odd, violent sensation. She looked up at her mother.

“Keep going,” her mother advised, nodding.

It was the only time in two decades her mother looked proud of Rebecca’s accomplishments. Rebecca quickly began tickling her throat again. Soon, her eyes watered, her stomach cramped and remnants of potato chips and spinach dip were floating inside the toilet.

When it was over, she felt weak. Her knees were quivering, her abdomen ached and swallowing was painful. But all the food was gone.

Her mother quickly flushed. Then, she giddily jumped up and down, delightedly clapping. She laughed.

Rebecca looked up, pleased. She sat on the floor and laughed, too, despite her confusion.

* * *

Months passed and vomiting became easier, expected. The bathroom was an important place now, not just another room. She and her mother would sometimes stand together, chatting and purging. They were bonding like never before.

Rebecca had written down and kept Anthony’s phone number. Although he had never called the service again, she planned to call him when the time was right.

Her clothes became too big. She loved it. For years, she had squirreled away thousands of dollars - now, she spent them. But she kept enough aside for a tummy tuck and cosmetic surgery. The elasticity was simply worn out on parts of her body.

The women at work treated her differently. They complimented her, asked her opinion and above all else, wanted to know her secret weapon against fat. She just grinned when they’d inquire.

Summer turned to fall, fall to winter, then winter back to spring.

A year had passed, and she’d dropped so much weight it almost scared her. Lately, she’d had problems with her teeth and gums. Her swollen glands were visible and tender. She became lightheaded and exhausted often, sometimes to the point of wanting to lay in bed for days. But she wasn’t going to give up.

Her mother had begun to take her out, introducing her to friends and colleagues. They were always impressed by her lovely daughter, though they noticed the way she ran to the lavatory after a meal. They wondered if she was throwing up her food, and they envied her willpower if she was.

* * *

By late June, the time had finally arrived to call Anthony, the man Rebecca truly believed was her soul mate.

Rebecca quit her job. She told her supervisor, “I’m getting married, so I don’t need to work anymore.” The women in her office gave her a going-away party complete with a decadent chocolate cake. Three slices ended up floating in the sewer beneath the building.

On July 3rd, she called Anthony at 5:00 a.m.

“Yes?” he answered. His voice sounded foggy, but wonderful.

“Hi!” Rebecca replied. She giggled.

He paused. “Who is this?”

She smiled. “Rebecca.” She looked around her bedroom. She’d take her comforter with her and her television, but she’d leave the Van Gogh print for her mother.

“Rebecca who?”

Rebecca laughed. As if he didn’t know! “Rebecca from the answering service…”

“I don’t know what you’re taking about…” he began.

“Oh, come on,” Rebecca started, but stopped when she heard a voice in the background.

“Who’s that?” The woman sounded annoyed, curious.

“Nobody, honey,” Anthony said. “Wrong number.”

Wrong.

Dial tone.

The click reverberated in Rebecca’s ear.

The sound traveled through her body, ending at her heart. It beat faster and faster.   She felt cold, so cold.  The room spun and she lay on her bed, confused, scared. Alone.

“Daddy…”

Everything went dark.

* * *

Her mother found her body the next day.

Doctors told her that Rebecca was bulimic and had caused irreparable damage to her heart by bingeing and purging, not to mention losing weight too quickly. Rebecca was malnourished, they said, wondering why no one had noticed.

Her mother nodded. The physicians detected no grief in the slender woman’s eyes.

Thompkins Funeral Home was called to plan the burial.

copyright 2008, AHCaffrey