The Disappearing Girl (23 page)

I was relieved to have a reprieve from my mother. Her need to make amends was too much for me to handle on top of my decision to go to the eating disorder clinic. She desired my absolution, but I couldn’t simply pretend the past hadn’t shaped the broken girl I’d become.

“I can’t let him see me like this,” I whispered, spinning my hospital bracelet over my bony wrists.

“I know, Kayla,” Lila said kindly. “He’s downstairs. I’ll go talk to him and tell him it’s not a good time.”

“He’s here?”

My heart fluttered and my chest tightened. Instantly, I was floored by the sensation of missing him. He was within reach and I was going to shut him out of my life again. Cameron had a million opportunities to move on, to forget all about me, but he stubbornly refused to let me go.

“I want to see him,” I said with determination. Some losses were too great to bear. My father’s death was something I was still struggling with, and I didn’t want to lose another man who meant the world to me. “Can you help me fix my hair in the bathroom?” I murmured to Lila.

There was so much sadness in Lila’s expression each time she looked at me. Her arm steadied me as I placed my feet on the tile floor. We took baby steps into the bathroom as I dragged my IV alongside me. I had avoided the mirror since I arrived, but it was time to take an honest look at my reflection.

My fingers wrapped around the edge of the sink and a sob dragged out of my body. I couldn’t bear to stare at my reflection for more than a minute. I had thought starving myself would make me beautiful, but I’d turned into a shell of what I was. My hair was dull and thin, hanging limply past my shoulders. My eyes looked hollow, with purple shadows coloring the skin underneath. The skin on my face was dry and ruddy, my lips chapped and bleeding.

I hated the mirror for showing me the truth. I was merely a husk, hollowed out completely. As I reached back to punch my fist through the glass, Lila grabbed me. I fell into her, then, and released the anguish I had bottled up for ages. I sobbed violently, blubbering against the fabric of her shirt as she held me steadfastly. We had swapped roles, and Lila had become the caretaker, the strong one.

As my moans subsided, Lila stood up straighter. “I have a brush and makeup in my purse. We’ll get you ready and I’ll text Cam to come up.” I wanted to refuse, but my need for him was growing more insistent each second. What I felt for him outweighed my shame over my appearance. Lila continued, “Cam loves you, Kayla, and what you look like doesn’t matter to him. You’re still beautiful to all of us.”

My sister had changed, too, in the past few months. She’d grown stronger and surer of herself. I was relieved she hadn’t followed me down the thorny path I had traveled.

Fifteen minutes later, I cowered in bed, the covers pulled up to my neck when I heard a light knock at the door. My sister gave me a reassuring smile and went to answer the door. After a few seconds of indiscernible whispering, Cameron trailed Lila into the hospital room. I envisioned the warning: be prepared to behold the horror.

Shock registered in his eyes and I could see the effort he put into concealing the emotion. Instead, he managed a half-smile as he moved to the foot of the bed. My obsessions had damaged everything good in my life, and I wondered whether my relationships were beyond repair.

I tilted my head toward my sister. “Lila, can you give us a few minutes alone?”

“Sure,” she offered, apparently eager to escape the awkwardness of Cameron’s arrival. “I’m going to raid the cafeteria and see if I can find anything edible.”

I studied him as Lila gathered up her things and headed to the door. It had been two weeks since I’d last seen him, and I felt my breath catch at the sight. He was gorgeous—there was never any doubt of that in my mind. The sun had lightened the blond streaks in his hair and a healthy-looking tan colored his skin. He must have worked at some point during the day; he wore a white, button-down shirt and black pants. My hand itched to play with the striped tie that hung loosely around his neck.

“I’m glad you’re here.” I was trying for honesty. Maybe if I expressed my feelings more, I’d have an easier time dealing with them.

“I had all these things to say to you, but now I’m at a loss,” he said softly.

“I owe you an apology for so many things I honestly don’t know where to start. But I’ll start by saying sorry for the disgusting things I said to you when I saw you last. That wasn’t me and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you decided to never see me again after that.”

“Kayla, I’ve been going out of my mind these past two weeks. I was freaked out over the thought something terrible had happened to you. I’ve never felt so helpless,” he admitted.

I scooted over to the left side of the bed and motioned him over. Without a second’s hesitation, he climbed in next to me. I rested my head against his shoulder and enjoyed the comfort of being next to him. “I’m starting to believe I’m truly broken. I don’t know how I got to this point, but I can’t continue like this.”

“We’re all broken in some way, Kayla. You just have to wake up each morning and find a reason to keep going,” he said quietly.

“I’ve been selfish. The very thing I hated about my mother is the exact thing I’ve become. You tried to talk to me about your mom and I never tried to get you to open up more about it. One of my biggest regrets is not being there for you.”

He took my hand in his and I watched as our fingers intertwined. My fingers looked frail and bony next to his large, strong hand. “My mom is in the past, Kayla. I’ve moved on from the things she did. There’s not much to say about it.”

“Cameron,” I said gently. “I don’t think it’s completely in the past. The Vonnegut quote from your tattoo—it was your birth mom’s favorite verse, not your stepmother’s, right?” At his brisk nod, I continued, “Maybe you should consider meeting with her. It may help you—”

He didn’t allow me to finish. “What could she possibly have to say that I’d want to hear? She left Scarlett and me for almost ten years because she couldn’t stop using drugs. It’s not my job to ease her guilt.”

“I’m not suggesting it for her benefit. But maybe you need the closure. I’m sure you have questions you want answered.” Maybe I wasn’t qualified to give advice, but it was easier to sort out someone else’s problems than deal with my own.

He coughed uncomfortably. “Why are we talking about this? I’m here to help you get better.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. I didn’t want to drop the topic, but he’d have to be the one to decide whether he wanted to see his mom and if he could forgive her. Pain flashed in his eyes. “Kayla, the time we’ve spent apart has been hell, but I haven’t stopped loving you for one minute.”

I didn’t reply. Instead I hugged him tighter. He nuzzled my neck, his voice muffled as he whispered endearments, words I was too broken to hear.

Tears traveled down my cheeks. I knew the right words to say to him, but they were trapped inside. I wanted a moment to get lost in the feel of his body and the sound of his voice. Because once I said what I needed to, it was possible I might never see him again.

My mouth found the way to his on its own accord. His lips were soft and his mouth tasted sweet. The kiss was tender and alluded to the raw need we were both feeling. Our romance was addictive, a calming drug in my chaotic world.

Unshed tears clouded my vision when I opened my eyes. The tips of our noses were still touching as I held him close.

“I need to get help. The doctor here found a place for me in an eating disorders clinic,” I said.

He pressed his lips to mine before replying. “Lila told me. I think it sounds great. They have visiting hours which means I can come see you.”

“Cameron,” I said, affectionately grazing my finger over the rough skin of his cheek. “I can’t see you while I go through treatment. I believe the problem before when I went to counseling was I was going for your benefit and not for myself.”

“Kayla, you have to let me in. I feel jerked around with the constant back and forth with you. Why can’t you understand I want to be there for you?”

“I’m not intentionally trying to push you away this time. It’s a lot to ask of you to trust me, but my reasoning is I want to go into this program with my best shot at succeeding. What I feel for you … it’s intense and all-encompassing, and seeing you will only make it harder for me to focus on what I need to do to get better,” I said breathlessly. I wished he could see inside me. He’d realize it was killing me to let him go. “I don’t want this to be goodbye forever. But it would be selfish of me to ask you to wait for me
.
”
Please wait for me
, I prayed silently.

His tone was gruff. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you? You’re different already, I can tell. You really want to get better.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. “More than anything.”

“Then, I’ll stay away if that’s what you want—”

I cut him off. “It’s not what I want, it’s what I need right now.”

“Kayla, do whatever it takes to come back to me. Because, honestly, I don’t think I could move on even if I wanted to. I only want you.” His kiss was an oath, and I planned to hold onto it as I fought against the disease that was slowly destroying me from the inside out.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“This is where you’ll be staying. Your roommate’s name is April. She’s at a group meeting, but you’ll meet her this afternoon,” the nurse explained as she led us to a room at the end of the hall. She unlocked it and turned to me. “Why don’t I give you some time to say goodbye to your family?”

After my assent, she disappeared back down the hallway. I scanned my room. “Looks like my dorm room. It’s actually an improvement over the hospital.”

My room at the River Center featured a pair of twin beds, dressers, and nightstands. The floor was carpeted in dark blue, and a set of windows overlooked the front lawn. The linens were also provided, and matching floral bedspreads covered the beds.

I’d been fighting my nervousness since my mom parked the car in front of the ivy-covered brick building. The inviting exterior gave no indication of what took place inside. As we walked down the hallway toward my room, I pictured the pain of all the past patients seeping into the walls. The patient dorms, lounge areas, cafeteria, and treatment rooms were all housed in the single three-story building.

I rolled my suitcase to the middle of the floor. The clinic provided a lot of the items I needed for my stay, so I’d packed lightly. I was given a list of things not to bring before I left the hospital. On the forbidden list were fashion magazines, tank tops, short skirts and shorts, and over-the-counter medicines. The toughest thing for me to leave behind was my laptop. After I took a minute to think about it, I realized it would probably be best, since I’d be cut off from my Pro-Ana network. The clinic had desktop computers, but their use was monitored.

“At least you’re used to sharing a room. I was never able to get along with other girls and couldn’t imagine being forced to live with a stranger,” my mom remarked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Lila rolled her eyes behind my mom’s back. We’d heard time and again how girls were always jealous of my mother and that was the reason she never had girlfriends. Thankfully, my mother was going to attend family therapy sessions as part of my treatment. If her behavior didn’t change as well, I’d have a struggle changing my own.

“Maybe I’ll luck out and have another roommate like Brittany,” I said.

I had called Brittany the night before and we’d talked for over an hour. She’d tried to reach me in the midst of my pandemonium, and I wanted her to know I was sorry for not returning her calls.

I confessed everything that had been going on with me, down to the last dirty detail. I was surprised to learn she suspected I had an eating disorder, but that she couldn’t figure out a way to confront me about it without initiating the collapse of our friendship. I promised to stay in touch as often as I could while staying at the clinic. I didn’t have a clue whether I’d be finished with treatment in time for the start of the fall semester in September, but I didn’t doubt we’d remain close, whether I returned to school or not. I was appreciating my roommate a lot more since living with Marti for two weeks.

“So, I guess this is goodbye for now,” I said uncertainly to my family.

“You get an hour for visitors each night. Lila and I can come by as often as you want us to. I’m also meeting with your therapist once a week. She thought I should start off the sessions without you attending,” my mom explained, brushing an imagined piece of lint from her blouse. The clinic made her uneasy. I could see it in her darting eyes and gritted teeth. I wondered if she had mentally compared me to the girls we’d seen on our arrival, the doll-like girls with very little flesh, their heads appearing oversized compared with their compact bodies. As we walked the halls of the clinic, I imagined myself in a warped beauty pageant, with my mother and Lila as the judges, comparing my bony frame against those of the other patients, mentally deciding how sick I truly was.

I hastened the goodbye. The sooner I came to accept that as my new reality, the easier the transition would be. I would set small and achievable goals to get me through the initial difficult days. That world was unfamiliar and terrifying. But I was my father’s daughter. And if there was one thing I always admired about my dad, it was his ability to make the best of the most impossible situations.

The hours that followed were a rush of unfamiliar faces, all wanting something from me. I was weighed, measured, and poked with needles until the counselors and nurses were satisfied. The clinic performed blind weigh-ins: they would know how much I weighed, but it would remain a mystery to me. The purpose was to curb the obsession over what number appeared on the scale. The blood work was required to see what type of nutrients my body had been deprived of during my months of starvation.

I met with my individual counselor, a woman named Noreen. I liked her carefree manner and imagined I’d eventually feel comfortable enough talking to her about my deepest secrets. She was also in charge of several of the group meetings held at the clinic. The groups covered topics like self-esteem building, nutrition education, and body image.