The End Of The Line

“Beep, beep, beep”, sounds the teller machine as I walk through the sliding doors into the local supermarket. It is 07:15, my ears are ringing, and I am late for my shift. “Keep your head down and keep those eyes sharp”, I whispered to myself as I beelined to the breakroom, “He’s probably hiding here somewhere”. I don’t make it too far into the store before I accidentally make eye contact with Jabu. “Jeez”, I say as I let out a loud sigh. Jabu walks up to me, purpose in his step, frustration on his face. “I’m getting fired, aren’t I?” I thought to myself. After what felt like forever, here he was, standing in front of me, as his eyes examined me, his frustration-coloured façade was replaced by worry. “Bloom, are you okay?” he asked in a not-so-subtle whisper. The ringing in my ears got worse. “You look like you’ve been run over by a lorry” I could tell he wasn’t joking because his eyebrows were creased together, the corners of his mouth pointing downwards. He reached out to place a hand on my left shoulder, and I winced. He let go of my shoulder with so much swiftness, as if I were a hot plate on a stove. His face fell even more. “Bloom…What happened?” “Nothing, Jabu, I just fell off my skateboard on the way here, that’s why I look so terrible,” I said, forcing a smile. I don’t own a skateboard, but he doesn’t know that. “Well, if you’re sure you’re fine,” he said as his eyes searched my eyes for an alternative response, “you could have at least called to let me know you would be late, we’re short-staffed today.” He said as he pointed to the empty teller machines, except for one where Annelise was working – she never missed a day of work. The line already resembled the Amazon River; I could barely see the end of it. The store had only been open for 15 minutes. “Get to work, Bloom, I’m counting on you,” he said with a smirk on his face.

I dragged myself to the bathroom in the breakroom and stood in front of the mirror. The girl in the mirror looked like how I felt; she really did look like she had been run over by a lorry. Her dark brown eyes looked dead, her hair was hidden underneath a beanie that hadn’t been washed in days, and her deep brown skin was cracked and ashy. Her features were sharp, too sharp, like someone who was starving themself. I looked down at my feet and saw my dirty, muddy, black, white-trimmed Converse. They were too far gone to be cleaned; the dirt gave them character. I examined my black sweats and wiped away the muddy parts. I lift my hoodie, and all I see are bones. I winced when Jabu touched me so that he would not notice how bony my shoulder was. "Running to work was definitely a good idea," I thought to myself. I made a mental note to weigh myself when I got home. I rinsed my face and stole one last look at the girl in the mirror. “You look terrible”, I said as I changed into my uniform: long khaki trousers, a checkered long-sleeved shirt, and black military boots. Even in the height of summer, my uniform stays the same, because I get too many unwanted stares when I show off my arms. I took my dirty clothes and stuffed them into my bag. I put my bag in my locker and went to work.

“Beep, beep, beep”, sounds the teller machine. It is the midday rush at the local supermarket. I am on the fifth hour of my shift, unable to hide the misery of it all. My face has been frozen in a state of misery, despair, despondence, and whatever word can be used in the place of resting douche face. “Beep. Beep. Beep”, sounds the teller machine. I look behind me and notice that I still can’t see the end of the line. “Today really is the worst day ever,” I say as the air rushes past my teeth. “Why is the store so full on a random Thursday?” I look out again and see faces displaying emotions ranging from annoyance to distraction, from irritation to obliviousness, from fidgeting to patience, and from socialising to resignation. Some, in their exasperation at how deathly slow the line is moving, decide to abandon ship and find help elsewhere, but return with their tail between their legs because I am the only available teller; the other teller went out for lunch. Momentarily, I find bliss in knowing that I am the architect of these people’s misery. Mean, but who cares? “Miss. Miss,” someone says. I am too lazy to turn around. “Miss”, they say more adamantly this time. I turn on my chair to face them, and it’s the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I am jealous. “Yes,” I say through a forced smile. “Would you mind picking up the pace a little? Some of us are in a rush”, she said with pleading eyes. I looked her up and down and weighed the pros and cons of granting her request. I couldn’t get over the fact that she was prettier than me, and that made me want to treat her terribly. I worked so hard to get this body, and she looks like she wakes up skinny every day, with no effort. However, if I ignore her, I’ll lose my job, and I’m already struggling to get by as is. Or I could lie. I smiled a soft smile and made sure to speak loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I am so sorry. I thought I was doing my best, but I guess not. I was involved in a minor accident on my way to work. I fell and bruised my left shoulder. As you can see, we’re short-staffed today, and I wanted to help regardless of the pain.” Her face fell, and she immediately turned red. I looked at the people in line, and they all avoided making eye contact with me. “Success”, I thought to myself.

Thirty minutes later, Annelise returned from her lunch break, and the line split in two; still, I could not see the end of the line. She signals for me to go for lunch. I am not hungry, but I’ve learned that pretending to go to lunch wards off unwanted attention. I place the “Closed” sign on my till, and everyone in my line groans with annoyance as they scamper to the next line. I feigned helplessness as I tried to hide a devious smile. I dragged myself to the breakroom, keeping up the act, and there I found Jabu gesticulating as he spoke to someone on the phone. “Bro, there are only 2 out of the 17 teller workers available on the busiest day of the month. I’m dying, man,” he said as he was turning around, and suddenly, “AHH! You scared me!” He swallowed “How long have you been standing there?” I shrugged my shoulders and went to get my bag from my locker. Inside my locker was a note that said: “You look terrible, here’s a nice pick me up.” I recognised the handwriting as Annelise’s. There was a chocolate bar. I picked it up, and suddenly I was hit with a wave of nausea, cramps, and weakness; my body remembered that it had been starved for 3 days. “You can handle working as a teller in a supermarket, but not a chocolate bar”, I said as I scolded myself. My head started spinning, my knuckles turning white. Blood dripping from my fingers. “Pull yourself together! Stop this weakness!” My body groaned and moaned against my rebukes. Jabu was still in the room, on his phone, but I was struggling to hear him. I knew I was in trouble then; you could always hear Jabu. I had been hospitalised before because I had a “problem”; is it wrong to want to be skinny, to be beautiful? “You suck”, I said to myself. I took a deep breath, and everything went dark.

“Beep, beep, beep” fills my ears as white, blinding lights flood my eyes. The room smells sterile. Everything is cold. I have been here before, in a hospital room. I groan, annoyance already building up. I look around, and there is a bag above my head connected to my body through a tube piercing my right hand. It hurts. I notice more pain; I have a cast on my left arm, “how ironic,” I scoffed. I look straight ahead, and there they are, eyes wide and full of worry. “Bloom, what the hell! You scared us.” Jabu burst out as if he had been holding his breath this entire time. “Why did you bring me here?” I said, frustration growing in me. “You fell with a disgusting crunch, I thought you were dead” he said solemnly. “I tried giving you CPR, but all I felt were bones.” He said as he shivered, “I was scared I would break you; I had no choice but to bring you here” Annelise just stood there, sympathy written all over her face. I was disgusted by their pity, but mostly confused, because I was doing nothing wrong. I had no comeback; all I had was a dirty look. Slightly offended but understanding, Annelise went out and called for a doctor. We sat in silence for what felt like eternity as I marinated in my anger. I was embarrassed, but they didn’t need to know that no one did. Finally, the doctor came in, and I was prepared for her to say all the things I had heard before. “Bloom, your body is failing; you have acute organ failure. If you don’t change your habits, you will die. You have reached the end of the line. It’s up to you to decide whether you want to live or die.” I scoffed, my stubbornness refusing to falter. She looked at me with stern pleading eyes. I stared back, defiance in my eyes. Everyone here is asking me to give up on myself so I can live, but I already am living, living in the attention and compliments that come from being skinny. My mother always complimented my body; she always said she was jealous of it. She said she showed her love for me by making sure I only ate when necessary; her greatest gift would be giving me a beautiful body. I keep her memory alive by doing what she taught me to do, by maintaining her greatest gift. If I lose that, I lose everything, and that would be the death of me. Sometimes I am revolted by the girl in the mirror…But none of that matters. These people surrounding me will not understand, no matter how genuine they think their concern is; in the end, they are all jealous of my body and devotion to my mother. And that is why I keep this to myself. The doctor’s eyes lose their sternness, and pleading is the only emotion they convey. Still, I stay strong in my convictions.