Scale

Trigger warning - eating disorder

She stepped on the bathroom scale.

Stepping back off, Lily let out a disgusted sigh, ran her hands through her hair and commenced brushing her teeth.

Being a scale, He couldn’t say much. He could just reflect back a digitized number that didn’t mean much to him, but seemed to mean a lot to Lily. She was pulling on thick wool socks and then several layers of leggings and sweatpants, and then she was gone. He could tell when she was upset; she didn’t listen to music as she got ready.

He thought of himself as “Scale”. There were other noteworthy appliances in the bathroom where he lived, but he alone sensed a personal responsibility for Lilly’s mood each day. More than Toilet, or Sink or even Shower Head. There was a correlation between her mood and the number he showed her. Today that number had been five ounces higher than the day before. This didn’t mean much to Scale; he’d never weighed anyone else and wasn’t sure what a person was supposed to weigh or not weigh. He only knew that he enjoyed being a part of Lilly’s daily routine, and that when she stepped on and smiled he felt satisfied. He, Scale, had done his job. He had meaning.

Usually Scale only helped Lily in the mornings. Toilet and Sink helped several times a day, and Shower was helping less and less. The four of them didn’t speak but there was a mutual, low thrum of friendly competition between them.

Lily was in her bedroom, which connected to the master bath in which Scale lived. He could hear her talking on the phone this particular morning.

“No, Mom. I’m serious this time. I think – I think I’m done with him.”

There was a long pause.

Lily’s voice was hoarse: “so you’d rather I stay with someone like that? You know what – no. No, I’m not listening to this. I’m ending it with him tonight. You go date him yourself if you adore him so much!”

Scale heard the soft, throaty sobs from the other room. He couldn’t help. All he could do was show Lily a digitized number of her own weight.

Footsteps approached, and suddenly Lily was in front of him again, peeling off the layers of clothing she had donned, and still crying. The sound was deeper now, angry. A tear landed on Scale’s display screen.

Eager to help, Scale awaited the pressure of Lily’s feet, and displayed the weight again, as promptly as he could. It hadn’t changed, of course, from only twenty minutes ago.

He could see Lily staring down at him with an expression of warped rage and revulsion. “Of course!” She hissed, tears and snot glistening on her cheeks, mouth and chin. And then softly: “of course.” The clothes came back on, one layer at a time, until all Scale could see was her head beneath a cocoon of thick clothing. “Ok,” she said, wiping her face, "Ok – gym!” and she was gone before Scale could blink the number away.

The following morning, Scale eagerly awaited Lily’s morning weigh-in. It was only a few seconds of his day, but it was the only thing that mattered. He was there to help. Unsettled by yesterday’s incident with Lily, he wondered how he could make her interaction with him more cheerful. As he listened to Lily’s footsteps thudding toward him, an apprehension arose. Yesterday he had hurt her, somehow. He wanted today to be different.

“All right,” she muttered to herself, shedding the night’s pajamas, “come on, come on, come on, come on…” she whispered urgently before stepping onto Scale. “Ooo!” she gasped, the moment her feet made contact, “cold!” And she waited, her face tight as Scale worked quickly as he could to display the accurate weight. It was a half pound less than the day before.

“Oh!” Lily gasped, placing her hands over a smile. “Oh my god, yes! Yes! Yes!” She hopped off of Scale enthusiastically and clapped her hands together. Scale was flooded with relief and pride. His person was happy. He was happy. But he was also confused. What had he done wrong yesterday? Today, he was too cold and yet the number still made her happy.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Lily’s music blaring from her phone. That day, Shower got used.

The next morning, Lily was awakened by a phone call. “Derek?” Long pause. “No – no we are not going out tonight. I thought I made that clear… I said – I said we were over. We’re over.” Scale could hear muffled shouting from the phone's speaker. “What did you just say to me? No! No don’t you DARE post that video! Derek that was PRIVATE! What can I - ok. Ok. Fine. We can get together ONE more time to talk about this, just PLEASE don’t post that video.”

Scale heard the phone crash against the wall. Unrestrained sobbing. Lily’s footsteps.

That morning Scale did something he had never done before; he heated himself until he was no longer cold. When Lily stepped on, she didn’t gasp and complain he was cold. She looked down blearily at the number, through a glaze of tears and leftover mascara from the night before. Two ounces up from yesterday. Lily crouched down slowly, as if deciphering what the number meant, squinting at it intently. “No…” She covered her face with her hands and sat abruptly, her feet still perched on Scale’s warmed surface.

They sat there opposite each other for some time. Lily held her face in her hands, weeping softly. The number on Scale’s screen flickered off. He kept her feet warm, but besides that, what could he do?

Eventually, Lily stood, retreated to her bedroom and Scale heard her making a phone call. “Hey, this is Lily. I’m really sorry, but I can’t come in today. I woke up really sick. The flu, probably. Yeah, thanks.” Scale heard mattress springs squeak and then he didn’t hear anything for several hours. Shower remained unused.

It was starting to grow dark before Lily stirred again. Scale saw her stumble into the bathroom in a robe, which she promptly dropped before stepping onto his surface again. He hadn’t warmed this time; the twice a day weigh-in was a new routine for him and he hadn’t been ready. The number was the same as it had been this morning.

“You’re kidding me!” Lily shouted. “Why? I didn’t eat anything all day! How – how?”

The phone rang. Lily answered. “Derek? Yeah. I’ll be there. We can talk again, sure. That video- will you delete it after this?” She listened for a moment and Scale saw fresh tears sparkling on her face. “Ok, see you then.”

It was late when she returned home. Scale thought the sky was probably half-baked between night and morning. Lily didn’t so much walk as she did fall into her bedroom that evening. Shower was untouched, Sink was untouched and Scale laid alone in the dark. He heard a deep, grating, rasping sound. Weeping. It wasn’t until midday that Lily approached him, her eyes slits behind swollen mounds of flesh. She sighed, dropped her robe and stepped tentatively onto his surface.

Scale displayed the number.

It was a pound higher than the day before. Lily’s mouth split across her face; a gash of glistening teeth and saliva, the corners of her lips drawing painfully downward. She leapt to the side, tripped, fell against the wall, caught herself on Sink and doubled forward, hands wrapped around her stomach.

“NO.”

She fled the bathroom with a flourish of slapping bare feet and a slamming door.

Moments later she was back with an entire chocolate cake, still contained within a clear prism of a plastic. She sat on the ground, once again opposite Scale, unsheathed the cake, and began to eat.

As Scale watched, the cake slowly disappeared. There was no fork, no plate, no joy. Lily’s eyes were blank. Once the cake was consumed, She tossed the plastic aside- hands and face painted with chocolate- and drew her knees to her chest.

Scale thought it must have been hours that she sat there, staring blankly over him. Sink let out a single drip that seemed to jolt her to life. She moved forward slowly, mechanically on her knees to Toilet, whom she embraced. Fleetingly, Scale felt jealous of Toilet. He’d never been embraced by Lily before. All his attempts to bring her happiness, his one true purpose, had failed. But as he watched, he saw that Lily was trembling. As though in a trance, Lily brought one hand to her mouth, slid the fingers inside and didn’t stop when her body began to heave.

The vomiting went on for some time. Scale, of course, could not move. He could not offer even a modicum of comfort to the violently retching body next to him. He could only feel the slight brush of her knee against his corner as her body lurched forward. What could he do to help? His purpose, his entire goal was to serve her and make her happy. What had he done to cause this? More importantly, what could he do now?

It had grown dark again when Lily slumped to the floor next to him, her cool face against his equally cool surface. He could hear her heavy breathing and feel the puffs of exhaustion escaping her mouth. In a brief moment of tenderness between them, Lily gently patted his display screen and whispered: “We’ll do better tomorrow buddy.” And she crawled to her bed and slept for a long time.

In the morning, Scale knew, Lily would come back to him. He knew she would disrobe and step nervously onto him, peering at the number he showed her with her forehead bunched in concern. He knew that something had to change. For LILY, he had to do something different. He had to fulfill his purpose. He might even have to sacrifice.

For several hours he thought about the arbitrary numbers that Lily seemed to agonize over. He thought about the cake, he thought about her music playing or not playing. He thought about angry phone calls and calling in sick from work. He thought about a defeated form hunched over Toilet. How could so much be tied to such a silly little glowing digital number? He didn’t know, but he knew that it was. So he made a quiet decision. Scale, of course, was a scale, so he could not cry. The last thought he had, was of Lily smiling.

~

Late the next morning, Lily was emerging from bed. Groggy and feeling hungover from the sugar and from shame, she shuffled, zombie-like into the bathroom. She stared down at her bathroom scale, arms folded defensively over her stomach. She had to know.

“I don’t even want to know,” she muttered. A magnetism that she herself couldn’t even explain drew her onto the scale. She stood on it for a moment- staring directly ahead, afraid to look down, afraid of what she had done after the chocolate cake fiasco.

“Ok, girl,” she coaxed herself. “You need to see the damage.” With a remarkable effort, she dragged her chin, and then her eyes downward. But there was no number on the scale. “Oh,” she said softly, crouching down closer. “It’s broken.”

It was quiet in her bathroom. Somewhere outside she heard a cardinal singing. There was no number. Her fingers brushed against the blank display. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Lily brushed her teeth at her sink and took a long, hot shower. She played music on her phone and she smiled as she got dressed for work.