“Your girlfriend’s so thin…she looks anorexic,” the waitress confides in me as I leave, having been forced to sit through yet another dinner where I’m the only one who really eats, reduced to watching her pick at her food for a while before proclaiming she’s full. It’s not the first time I’ve been her shield against these harsh observations, and it’s not the last. As per usual, my response is the same:

“You don’t know her.”

But it’s so morbidly true, from the way her hip is sharp against my hand as I put my arm around her waist to lead her to the movie portion of our date, where she insists on getting an armload of junk she won’t finish eating.

I’ll keep secret from her what strangers say about her behind her back; she’s too fragile to hear it. But this time, I fail.

“God. You should take care of yourself. You mess up your body now and you won’t get it back.” It’s a warped compliment coming from a slight overweight girl I’d always seen in the hallways (didn’t I have Chemistry with her?) at school, but never spoken to. Friends have told me she had a thing going for me, but I have a girlfriend already, and everyone knows it. But if she’d lose some weight…but I stop myself and my teenage boy hormones, ignoring her and leading my stricken date away.

“What’d she mean? Am I gaining weight?” She’s obsessively sliding her hands over her nonexistent stomach, fingers digging into her skin. “Oh God…she’s right…I’ve gained weight. I’m fat.” It’s the first time in our relationship that I’ve purposefully hurt her.

“Don’t ever say that. Ever. You’re perfect.” She stares at me before cringing away, both hands pressed against her cheek where a red handprint is blossoming across her pale skin. “Look…just sit down and eat your popcorn.” But she doesn’t touch a thing, doesn’t speak throughout the entire movie and its $20 worth of candy I take home; she wouldn’t even look at it. Call me crazy, but she’s making me paranoid. If she thinks she’s overweight, what does she think about me?

So I keep reassuring her, telling her how gorgeous she is, how thin. And it can’t be good, but how could I ever bear to make her unhappy?

She’s skipped lunch again, waving off my words and distracting me with her antics until the next period starts, and even when I remember she hasn’t eaten, there’s nothing I can do about it but stew in my own guilt. All she’s doing is starving herself and I’m letting her.

“‘Have you ever been too hungry to eat?’” She’s quoting some silly book, desperate for understanding, when I confront her about it. “I just…don’t get hungry. It’s okay.” But it’s not and never will be and I can wrap my hand around her upper arm. “Please. You have to understand.”

This time, I snap, I retaliate and I don’t think about the fragile girls I’ve been trying so hard to protect. “I have to understand? You’ve been killing yourself and I’ve just been sitting by! That’s what I understand! I love you, why can’t you understand that?” It’s my turn to push back and push and push and push, and I can’t stop now that all I’ve been holding back is slipping past my traitorous lips, no matter the consequences. “I hate seeing you do this to yourself and knowing that no matter how hard I try, there’s nothing, nothing I can do!” Every fight, every disagreement we ever had was nothing compared to this. Those we could patch up and fix. But this… “I can’t see you this way. I can’t do it anymore.”

“You promised me you would--”

“You won’t even help yourself. You won’t help me help you. I’m sorry.” And I can tell I’m making a mistake as her eyes well with tears, fragile little body shaking, and it makes me want to take her back and hug her so carefully as not to break her little bones that pop when she stands, but I can’t. She’s ruining the both of us and I’m of no use to her if I break. My apology won’t be enough, but I leave anyway, cutting class and skipping school for the first time on my own, leaving her to her tears in the hallway.

I’m dating that other girl now, the one from the movies. It’s not the same, I know nothing will be, but she’s a breath of fresh air. I see my ex sometimes in the hallway, rail thin and with the look of beauty gone to waste, but there’s nothing I can do from her anymore, nothing anyone can do. Except for her. But she’s not very motivated.