Perfectly Thin, page 28
I look at the food on the table, and I know I have to do something so I don’t spill to Tia how I’m the one who did this to her. I grab a slice of pepper, and stick it in my mouth.
Tia gasps. Erica stares at me. Parker’s eyebrows lift. And Wade is still smirking. “What?” I say to him in particular.
“Keep going like that, and you’ll be out of here before you know it.”
No, no. I can’t be. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to face the world, and to go back to school.
What if I relapse?
What if I get worse?
What if I do something stupid?
No, no. No.
“Everything okay?” Leo asks.
“Take over, Leo. I stupidly booked Jane for her session not realizing it’s in the middle of lunch,” Izzy says.
No, she didn’t. I’m not due for my session until later. Shit, crap.
“Of course,” Leo says. He flashes me a comforting smile, and I lower my eyes, embarrassed by my meltdown. He must know Izzy’s covering for me about something.
Izzy ushers me out of the dining room, and down the hallway, into her office. She unlocks her room and flips the light switch on. “Okay, sit,” she says.
I don’t sit. I pace back and forth, a nervous wreck, knowing it’s because of me Tia’s got a feeding tube. “I have to tell her.”
“Tell her what?” Izzy asks softly.
“It’s because of me. It’s my fault she has that thing up her nose.”
“Is it?” Izzy challenges.
I stop pacing, and turn to look at her. With my head tilted to the side, and my brows drawn in together, my overwhelming thoughts, stop. “Isn’t it?”
“Hmm, let’s see. How often do we take your weight, Jane?”
“Um, every morning.”
“Okay. And how often is the dining room opened?”
“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, morning snack, afternoon snack, and evening snack. So, six times.”
“Have you seen Tia eating?” I nod. “If you’ve seen her eating, why is she losing weight?”
“Because she vomits, or exercises.”
“Exactly right. We keep a note of everything that’s eaten. We know what exercises have been done, and we know what goes on. We have to.”
My eyes look around the room. How do they know? “Have you got cameras set up in our rooms?”
“Yes,” she answers candidly.
“But that’s an invasion of privacy.”
“No, an invasion of privacy would be having cameras set up in the bathrooms. We have cameras set up everywhere else, including bedrooms so we know what we’re dealing with.”
“So...” I take a small breath and plonk down in the chair. “When I told you about Tia.”
“We knew.”
“Why didn’t Leo tell me?”
“Because it’s not for you to know what we know and what we don’t.”
My stomach twists. I don’t feel comfortable with this. “Can I go to my room, please?”
“You can. My door is always open.”
Standing, I walk away. My head isn’t dealing with all of this. I’m not sure how to feel. I take myself back to my room, and I curl up on my bed.
The knocking on my door startles me awake. “Yeah,” I call in a sleepy voice.
The door opens, and my parents walk in. “Jane!” Dad says. His eyes light up, and he smiles so large. “Were you asleep?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” I sit up in bed, stretch, yawn, and try to blink my sleepiness away.
Mom comes over, and sits on the bed. She pushes some of my hair away from my eyes, then leans in and gives me a kiss. “You’re looking so well.”
“I’m doing okay.”
“Yeah? Your skin’s got some color to it, and your eyes have got a sparkle. You really are looking good,” Dad echoes Mom’s sentiment.
I get up out of bed, and give Dad a hug, then Mom. Then I make my way over to the window, and sit on the ledge. “I did something stupid,” I say.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Mom hangs her head low, and Dad’s shoulders drop. “What?” Mom asks.
“I told Izzy about one of the girls here, Tia. She’s been vomiting and hiding the vomit in a cavity she created in her room.”
“Why’s that stupid?” Dad asks.
“Because I ratted her out, now she has to have a feeding tube. And I feel so bad that I did that.”
The corner of Dad’s lips turn down, and he nods. “Do you feel bad because she has to have a feeding tube, or because you probably saved her life?”
Whoa. What? Saved her life? “I didn’t save her life.”
“You didn’t end it either.”
“But I feel like I’ve betrayed her trust. Then when I saw her, I started freaking out, and Izzy pulled me into her office, and told me they already knew, because of cameras in our rooms. But I don’t know if that’s true or not. I mean, why didn’t they stop her earlier if that was the case?”
“You have no idea what pressure Izzy, the doctors and the nurses are under. You also have no idea if they spoke with Tia’s family first so they put together the perfect plan of action for her. Izzy meets with us, and she keeps us updated on your progress.”
Crap. Does she tell them what’s in my diary? She said she wouldn’t. “Oh, I see.” My voice cracks.
“Don’t worry, she doesn’t tell us what you speak about in your therapy sessions. The only thing we know is you’re having therapy. Because, we are too,” Dad says.
“Wait, you’re having therapy? Why?”
Mom looks to Dad, places her hand on his and smiles. “Because eating disorders don’t just affect one person. It touches the entire family. From us, to Yiayia and Papou, to Daphne and Cleo,” Mom answers. “We all need to learn how to help you. How to be your support.”
“I doubt Cleo would give a crap about me. As long as her world isn’t interrupted, then I can’t see why she’d care,” I say.
“Jane, Cleo was the one who found us all a therapist, and she’s been coming with us. She wants to help, and no matter what, she’s here for you,” Mom says.
“But how can she be coming with you? She’s got school!”
“Because she’s taken a few weeks off. She cleared it with her school. Daphne couldn’t ,because she’s got exams.” Grimacing, the guilt overruns me. “What’s wrong?” Dad asks.
Staring down at my feet, I can barely come to grips with my stupid mind. “I’m such an idiot.”
“What? Why do you say that?” Mom asks.
There’s a sudden tightness in the back of my throat. “I owe Cleo an apology. I have to talk to her.”
“You can call her. We’ve brought you your phone and charger.”
“Nah, I have to see her. I’m a complete and utter idiot,” I scold myself.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asks, obviously trying to change the conversation.
“I don’t know, Mom. I’m confused about everything. Learning to listen to my thoughts and deciphering the good from the bad is very hard.”
Dad stands and comes over, sits beside me and enfolds me in a hug. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jane.”
“Don’t be so easy on me, Dad.”
“Jane, you have to learn how to like yourself. Look at food and have a healthy relationship with it, not a toxic one, like you have had. We blame ourselves, because we should’ve seen what was happening, and we should’ve stopped it,” Dad says.
“We’ve been terrible parents, Jane. We...” Mom shakes her head, her eyes downcast and sighing deeply. “All we want for our girls is to see you all more successful, and happier than we’ve ever been.”
“This isn’t your fault,” I say, my voice cracking. “You couldn’t have stopped this, even if you wanted to.”
“We could’ve found you a therapist, a better one than Berton. He was useless. And let me tell you, I’ve already reported him,” Mom says.
“What we’re trying to tell you, Jane, is we’d cross Hell itself to keep you safe.”
“And what I’m trying to tell you, I would’ve gone to Hell itself to hide this from you.”
“Secrets are a slow spreading cancer that gets worse with every moment the truth isn’t faced. You’re facing your truth now, and so are we. For you, you need to love yourself, for us, we need to forgive ourselves. We’ve all made mistakes, now’s the time to admit them, face them, and learn from them so we don’t keep making them,” Mom says.
“But what if I fail?” I ask, petrified that I will fail.
I look to my parents for an answer, neither say anything for a good thirty seconds, until Mom says, “With every fail you’re a step closer to success. Failing is part of life, as long as we keep on getting up after we fall. Making mistakes is how we learn.”
Again, we’re all met with silence. “Shit, Angela, that was some pretty deep stuff,” Dad says.
Mom and I laugh. “Yeah, it was,” I say.
“Sorry,” Mom chuckles. “I didn’t mean to get deep with you. I’m just trying to say, we’re here for you. And don’t ever think you’re on your own. We’ll support you with whatever it is you need. And secrets...” She shakes her head and makes a cutting gesture across her throat. “We have to be open and honest. No more secrets, okay?”
They’re right. Secrets are harmful in so many ways. I should’ve gone to them; I should’ve told them.
But I suppose I had to come to terms with it myself first.
I’ve been in the clinic for over three weeks, and I’m doing okay. I’ve put on four pounds since I’ve been here, and although a huge part of me still wants to burn them off, another part of me knows I have to find a healthy balance.
I leave my room, and head out to the garden. It’s nice today, and I want to sit out in the glorious sun and work on my diary. The garden is empty. I’m not sure where everyone else is. I’ve come to the realization that if I become friends with them, then I’m not really in healthy relationships. I don’t think having them as friends is good for me. And I need things that are good in my life.
Sitting at the outdoor table, I look up and watch as the fluffy white clouds move quickly across the sky.
“Whatcha doing?” I hear Leo ask.
Looking around, I make sure he’s talking to me before I answer. Yep, definitely no one out here but Leo and me. I check his ears, double check he doesn’t have earphones in. He doesn’t. “I’m going to write in my journal It’s nice here. The sun isn’t too hot, and it’s not too windy. It’s actually a pretty perfect day.”
“Huh.” He sits opposite me. “You’re doing a lot to help yourself.”
“I want to try.” I smile.
“In all my years here, I’ve only ever seen a handful of people who really want this from the start. I like how determined you are.”
“Thank you.”
There’s an awkward silence between us. The stillness is quite weird. “What do you want to do once you leave school? Have you applied to any colleges?”
“Um, well, thanks to my ability to screw up, I haven’t finished school yet. But my parents sorted that out, and I have to redo the school year once I’m home. It just means I’ll have to work extra hard. But hey, I’m not opposed to doing the work.”
“Do you know what you want to do?”
“Not really. I’m more focused on dealing with this.” I tap my temple. “And I think I probably have a long way to go. Especially on my relationship with myself, and certainly with food.”
“Interesting,” he says as he rubs his hands together, then sticks them under his legs to sit on.
“What’s interesting?”
“You’ve already identified that you need to heal from within. That can take people years, sometimes even decades to pinpoint. And you’ve managed it in an incredibly short time.” He chuckles. “You should really be proud of yourself, Jane. You’ve come along by leaps and bounds.”
I lift my shoulders. “Maybe I have a super power. The Great Jane. Able to un-fuck her life with a click of the fingers.” I snap my fingers, and chuckle. But in reality, it’s not something to laugh about. Leo doesn’t laugh either. “I have to prove to myself that I’m worthy.” This conversation is turning dark quite quickly. Tears form in my eyes, and a lump sits at the base of my throat.
“It doesn’t matter what other people say, Jane. You’re the only one who can decide you’re worthy. Or not.”
“I’ve been listening to some self-help audio books, but the only ones I can bring myself to listen to are the ones about making money. And you know what?”
“What?”
“They relate to anyone about anything. And I’m adapting the positive mindset of looking at food like money.”
“Ahhh, so you’re becoming a philosopher. Please, grant me your wisdom, Guru Jane.” He sits back, and crosses one leg over the other.
“Well, it’s like this...” I say, in a deep, professional voice. “Money is often perceived as evil. Much like how I see food, right?” Leo nods. “And what I’ve learned, is that money is like a camel.”
Leo smirks. “A camel? Okay, I’ll bite. Why a camel?”
“In ancient times, camels were used to trade. And no one ever looked at the camels and thought...damn you camel, you’re evil.”
“Except when they spit at you,” Leo jokes.
“Except when they spit at you.” I nod, holding a finger up. “Everyone would look at the camels and think, oh man, why can’t I have as many camels as the guy down the road?”
“I’m following, but I don’t see the correlation between camels and food yet.”
“Food, like a camel, isn’t inherently evil. Camels were simply a currency. And food is a currency too. A fuel, something we need in order to survive. I have to look at food like they used to look at the camels. It’s not evil, it’s not out to hurt me, but I need it in order to survive.”
“So every time you look at food you’ll be seeing camels?”
“I have to learn that every time I’m presented with food, I can either see it as evil, or see it like a camel. Something I need.”
“Huh, well. That’s an interesting analogy. And, if it works for you, keep using it. Speaking of food...or camels. What’s your favorite?”
“Food or camels?”
“Food, not camels. Wait, now I’m confused. Food. Definitely food. What’s the one thing you can’t wait to have again.”
My mouth waters just thinking about it. “Oh my God, Greek food! Have you ever had any? Stuffed tomatoes. Yum.” I pretend to wipe the drool away.
“I must admit, I haven’t had Greek food. Mind you, I’m not sure I’m the perfect person to try it either.”
“Why?”
“I’m a vegetarian.” I stare at him, blinking. “You’re looking at me like something’s wrong.”
“You’re a vegetarian?”
“Are you judging me?” he snaps with sass.
Shit. “I suppose I am. But in my defense, I don’t think I know anyone who’s a vegetarian.”
“You know me.” I laugh, my stomach flutters. Crap, why? My smile drops, as the butterflies in my stomach intensify. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say nearly immediately. I shake my head, as if I’m dislodging a disturbing thought. “I can’t believe it. A real-life vegetarian. Don’t tell me, you’re a tree hugger too, right?”
“There’s nothing wrong with saving the environment. Anyway, the bigger question here is, why aren’t you a tree hugger?”
Tilting my head to the side, I’m seriously challenged by his question. Why aren’t I a tree hugger? “Hmh,” I huff. Clicking my tongue to the roof of my mouth, I don’t think I can answer his question. “I recycle,” I eventually say.
“That’s a start. But is that the best you can do for mother nature? Recycle?”
Man, he really knows how to draw emotions out of me. Make me think about more than just me. “I can probably do more.”
“Then do more.” He stands and starts walking inside. “I like talking to you, Jane. You’re alright.” He keeps walking. He stops, turns and calls out. “Oh, by the way. Camels are pregnant for roughly fifty-seven weeks.”
“You are a wealth of random knowledge, Leo.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he calls over his shoulder.
Yeah, he’s weird. But I like weird.
Opening my diary, I start writing. Today’s a good day.
The music plays for dinner.
I’ve made a promise to myself to eat a bit more than I did last night.
I open the door to my room to leave, and Cleo is about to knock. “Cleo!” I say, startled.
A huge smile lights up her face, her eyes are bright and she looks so happy. She stands looking at me, and her eyes quickly fill with tears. She’s hesitant, and doesn’t know what to do. She steps forward and awkwardly half-lifts her arms, then drops them.
She doesn’t know if she should hug me or not.
I step in, and embrace her in my arms. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I wanted to come see you. How are you?”
“Dinner, Jane,” Leo calls from the dining room.
“I’m not hungry. My sister is here!” I link my arm with Cleo, happy to see her. I have so much I need to say, and apologize for.
“Jane,” Leo’s voice darkens, and it instantly stops me from walking away. Both Cleo and I face Leo. “Your sister is more than welcome to join us for dinner.”
“I’d love to! I’m so hungry,” Cleo says.
This is one of those moments when I have to think about what I’m doing. I consciously make a decision, and execute it for my own well-being. “Okay,” I respond.
“I’m starving,” Cleo says again. She walks us toward Leo. “Hi, I’m Cleo.” She holds her hand out to Leo.
“Leo, I’m pleased to meet you.” Leo takes Cleo’s hand, and gently shakes it. “This way, ladies.” He ushers us inside.
Everyone is in the dining room. They stop talking, and turn to look at us. “This is my sister, Cleo,” I introduce.
