The Disappearing Girl Part 12

Five minutes later I received a reply back from Anonymous413. Your friends are just jealous and you should ignore what they say. Surround yourself with people who aren't haters and who won't try to put doubts in your head. Look at old pictures of yourself to recall how awful you used to look and as a reminder of how far you've come.

My eyes cut to the family photo on my desk. I was certainly rounder in the photo, but I didn't experience disgust looking at myself forty pounds heavier. I coveted the smile of old Kayla. It lit up her entire face, crinkling the edges of her eyes.

ClaudiaNoShame piped in with a reply to my forum post. Your best bet is to hide your ED from them. There's a ton of excuses you can give them over why you're not eating. Like I tell people I have food allergies or I'm on meds that mess with my appet.i.te. Or a lot of times, I carry around a piece of food, like a cookie or a bagel, and throw away little pieces when they're not looking.

I stayed online until another reply appeared from another user called ThinNatalie17. When you binge you have to be sneaky about it too. The best place to do it is in the shower. The noise of the water will drown out the sound and it'll also make clean up a cinch. If you can't do it in the shower, you can always crank up your iPod or use a bathroom with super loud hand dryers.

Hours later, after exchanging back and forth messages with the girls on Pro-Ana, I felt lighter, less anxious. Maybe I wasn't as messed up in the head as I thought. The girls insisted there was nothing wrong with wanting to be skinny. We lived in a society where thin meant beautiful.

The advice that hit home the most was I needed to stop talking about dieting and losing weight. These topics would be red flags to the people around me. I had to be a play actor, imitating a girl who ate like a normal person, hiding her dirty shame behind closed doors.

"Hi, I'd like to make an appointment to see one of the counselors."

I swallowed hard as I waited on the line for the secretary to return with open appointment times. The college offered psychiatric services for free to students. I could call and set up an evaluation session and from there the counselor would recommend services provided through the campus.

"How does Wednesday at nine sound?" The secretary chirped in my ear. I didn't have cla.s.ses at the time and agreed readily. She told me to arrive ten minutes early to fill out some paperwork. I would have to decide on the spot about how to answer intrusive questions about my mental state.

After disconnecting with the health center, I debated whether to call Cameron. If I was perfectly honest with myself, I'd made the appointment solely because of him. The fact was being separated from him was killing me a little bit more each day. Each time I closed my eyes, I would see the hurt on his face as I tore out of his apartment. I would replay his words again and again. "Kayla, I love you."

I tried to reach inside myself and find the ability to tell him I felt the same way. But each time, I found the intense feelings I had for him locked away. It was as if I had an internal security system in place not allowing me to get too close to him. If I showed my vulnerability and permitted myself to love him, I'd never recover from the damage if he ended up hurting me.

After I'd left his apartment, I convinced myself it would be best to walk away. Nothing good could come of our relationship. I was unraveling, and I couldn't expect him to put me back together.

The problem lay with the ache I felt being apart from him. Being with him for such a short time had been a tease, and I wanted so much more. I wanted a thousand nights locked in his arms, his deep voice whispering secrets into my ear, lulling me into a dreamless sleep. With him gone, I couldn't get lost in his presence, and I found myself returning often to the day I found my father's corpse; his body already decomposing under the sweltering summer sun.

I resolved to call Cameron after I went through my first counseling session. His insistence I needed therapy hadn't resounded in me, but I could continue my playacting for his benefit. He was worth it-he was worth everything.

Time slowed down as I waited for my appointment. I hoped talking to a counselor would be enough for Cameron. If he saw how much I was willing to make an effort, maybe it would appease him for the time being. He couldn't expect me to fix everything overnight. With the encouragement of my Pro-Ana friends, I was finding myself closing in on the elusive one hundred pounds I'd decided was my new weight loss goal. It was funny how once I surpa.s.sed my previous goal weights, I had never felt satisfied. I would focus on more stubborn fat on my body I couldn't seem to get rid of.

On the night before my counseling appointment, Brittany called me from her cell phone around midnight. I could barely make out what she was saying because of the loud music blaring in the background. Brittany and the twins had headed out hours earlier to bar hop, since they didn't have cla.s.ses the next day and I had begged off, figuring I'd go to bed early to make sure I got enough sleep before my therapy evaluation.

"h.e.l.lo," I mumbled. I answered the phone in a half-dream state. I'd been in the midst of a nightmare where I was trapped on the ground of our backyard. I couldn't move or scream, my body glued to the freshly cut lawn.

"Kayla!" Brittany called out over the noise. Without preamble, she demanded, "Why didn't you tell me you broke up with Cam?"

"Huh?"

"We're at Hunter's," Brittany said, naming a bar in town, "and Cam is here, completely wasted. I went over to say hi and I could tell right away something was wrong. He barely mumbled a h.e.l.lo. When I asked him what was going on, he said you ended things with him last week. Kayla, I felt like a moron for not knowing my best friend broke up with her boyfriend!"

I had to strain to hear her over the noise of the bar. "Is he okay?"

"No, he's not okay! He looks like his dog just died! What happened?"

I groaned. "I can't get into it over the phone. I'm going to throw on some clothes and come there to talk to him. See you in a few."

Before she could reply, I hung up. I reached into my closet and put on the first thing my hand connected with, a black, knee-length dress with cap sleeves. After putting on a pair of heels, I grabbed my makeup bag, figuring I'd attempt to fix my hair and makeup while driving, and ran out of the dorm.

I had to make things right with Cameron. If I didn't work things out with him straightaway, I ran the risk of losing him forever. I was constantly putting restrictions on our relationship-how close he was allowed to get to me, how much of my body I permitted him to see-and it hadn't stopped him from relentlessly trying to break down the protective walls I had built since my father died.

For the past few weeks, I'd believed our relationship couldn't work. That it was impossible to have a boyfriend while I was obsessed with getting my body the way I wanted it. Yet, according to the new friends I made through Pro-Ana, it was possible to have a boyfriend. The key was to hide my habits from him and put on a normal facade. Shockingly, girls on the site had come forward claiming their boyfriends not only knew about their anorexia, but were also fine with it.

Hunter's was crowded when I arrived. I earned a couple of appreciative double takes as I pushed my way through, searching for Brittany or Cameron. It stung to remember how invisible I had been before I lost weight. I was finally becoming beautiful enough to be noticed.

Danielle spotted me quickly. Brittany was standing next to her and they both moved toward me after Danielle tapped my best friend on the shoulder and gestured in my direction. Brittany's eyebrows were pulled together and I could see the annoyance shining in her eyes. Gradually, I'd been pulling back from our friendship, and this was going to sting more than any of my other past mistakes. I should've turned to Brittany as soon as I fought with Cameron, but I was confused about how to explain the fallout without admitting to my eating disorder.

"You said you were seeing Cam later and that's why you weren't coming out with us tonight," Brittany said. "What else have you been lying to me about?"

Danielle seemed to notice a few bar patrons gaze at us with interest. In a harsh whisper, she commanded, "Keep it down, Britt. People are starting to stare."

"What's wrong with you? I've been there for you! I held your hand at your father's funeral! I've defended you to your crazy mom!" Brittany's skin was flushed and her fists clenched. "Now, you decide to push me away!"

"I'm sorry. I've been going through some stuff ..."

"We're all going through stuff, but it doesn't mean you ignore me for months! Do you have any clue what's going on with anyone else? Or have you become as self-absorbed as your mom?"

I took a shaky step back. Saying I was like my mom was the worst type of character a.s.sa.s.sination, and Brittany was well aware of that fact. Brittany's eyes flashed, and I realized she wasn't giving up. "Cam thinks I need mental help," I admitted softly, "so I decided I needed some time apart to figure things out."

Brittany's dangerous expression faded. "Kayla, you could've just told me."

My eyes swept between Brittany and Danielle. "I was embarra.s.sed. It's not exactly flattering to confess your boyfriend thinks you're crazy."

"Oh, Kayla," Brittany said with an emphatic shake of her head. "Cam doesn't think you're crazy. He sees what we all do: You're grieving and need to talk to someone to work through it."

"I should've told you, but I didn't want to say it out loud, like if I talked about it, then it would be true and things were really over between us." As we talked, I was scanning the bar, trying to find him. Even if we were falling apart, I was eager to see him again. My body craved him like a drug.

"Cam is heartbroken, Kayla. If you don't want things to be over, they won't be. Cam is a fantastic guy and he's only trying to help you," Danielle said. Once she stepped aside, I was able to narrow in on Cameron. My friends had been blocking my view while they reamed me out.

His body was angled away from me and I doubted he'd caught sight of me yet. Several empty tumblers and shot gla.s.ses were littered in front of him, and I cringed. Obviously, he'd been drinking for a while, and I wasn't sure how it would affect his willingness to talk to me. He was with two friends from work, and although they seemed to like me, I wasn't sure I'd be a welcome sight after hurting their friend.

While I remained unseen, I studied him. Intoxication didn't diminish his handsomeness. His white, b.u.t.ton-down shirt enhanced his tanned skin and the sleeves were tight around the swell of his biceps. He had done his usual haphazard hairstyle with his hair spiked in the front. He achieved s.e.xiness effortlessly. Liquid heat churned in my belly merely from being close to him.

"Go and make nice with him. You know you want to," Brittany whispered in my ear. After a sidelong look at her, I was relieved to see her anger at me had dissipated and she had a teasing grin. Brittany was right; we'd been through a lot together, and I understood how important it was to keep our friendship intact.

Pete and Chad's eyes widened at my approach. It took a second too long for Cameron to detect my presence. Our conversation could be pointless, since the amount he'd clearly had to drink would likely make him forget anything I said. Instead of a greeting, Cameron's mouth turned down. His eyes tore away from my face and he instead faced his friends. "I'm leaving. I'll call you guys later."

Without preamble, he shot to his feet and elbowed past me. I swallowed hard and followed on his heels. Once he made it outside, I caught up to him and dug my nails into his arm to stop him. His feet stayed planted, but he refused to look at me.

"You have every right to be p.i.s.sed at me," I said. "The way I acted at your house ... The way I've been acting ... has been unfair to you. I obviously have a problem; and instead of dealing with it, I ran away from you. I'm not the best at confrontation."

Finally, he pivoted to face me. "Why are you here? Is it to torture me some more?"

"Cameron, I never ... I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. These past few months with you have meant everything to me. You've been so good to me and I care about you so much-"

"Just stop it," he snarled as he hunched down to lean close to my face. "Stop trying to let me down easy. I told you I love you and you ran away from my house like it was on fire. Then, all I get is a text saying you need s.p.a.ce. I should've seen this coming. I seem to have that effect on people. You're not the first person I cared about that left me." He swayed on his feet and I placed my hands on his elbows to steady him. I could hear the pain behind his words, and I understood there were mysteries about Cameron I had yet to uncover. I wanted to ask him about the person who left him, but it would have to wait for another time.

"I messed up and I'm ready to take responsibility for the way I've been acting," I said. "I made an appointment with a counselor. My first session is tomorrow."

The hard line of his jaw relaxed and I could see his eyes grow tender. He understood what a monumental step it was for me. I had closed myself off from everyone I cared about, and it was a big deal for me to agree to talk about my problems with a therapist. He blinked rapidly and I wished I could be inside his head, be privy to what he was thinking.

"That's good. I'm happy for you," he said and stepped back. My hands dropped to my sides. He bit his lip, and I wondered what he was trying to prevent himself from saying.

"I feel sick over what happened last time I saw you. It's what made me realize I need to deal with my problems." I willed him to hear the pleading in my voice. I knew I was lost, and he was one of the few things preventing me from dissolving completely.

"Kayla ..." he started uncertainly.

"Can we go somewhere and talk? I can't stand how we left things."

"I don't think it's a good time right now. I drank way too much and I'll probably end up saying things I'll want to take back once I'm sober," he said, and he moved to leave.

"Cameron, you're too drunk to drive. Let me at least bring you home," I offered. "I can call Danielle to swing by and pick me up after they leave the bar. She's the designated driver for the night."

His expression was uncertain, but he couldn't argue with my logic. Cameron wasn't reckless with his body the way I was. Silently, he handed me his keys and led me to his car. My nerves made my hands unsteady as I opened the car door and climbed into the driver's seat.

The silence was oppressive inside the Mustang. Although I sensed Cameron's eyes on me as I drove, I kept my gaze fixed on the road. We were always at ease with each other, and it felt uncomfortable to sit there and not talk to or touch him. The drive to his building felt as if it took ages.

When I pulled up, I turned off the ignition and angled my body toward him. His eyes had closed, and the soft sound of his regulated breathing let me know he had fallen asleep. My fingers reached out and stroked his cheek tenderly. The movement disturbed his sleep and his hand shot out and held my fingers in place. Without a second's hesitation, I crossed the s.p.a.ce between us and landed on his lap. I settled my knees on the outside of his thighs to be face-to-face with him.

"I've missed you," I said hoa.r.s.ely.

His fingers grazed my cheek before pa.s.sing over my lips. His eyes settled on my mouth and I felt a familiar burning deep inside.

"I thought you were lost to me. I put myself out there and felt like such an a.s.shole when I realized you didn't feel the same way."

"I would never be lost to you," I whispered. I crushed my mouth against his and he parted his lips in antic.i.p.ation. Each nerve ending tingled as I rocked my hips back and forth over him as we kissed. I was overcome with desire and I wanted to possess him completely in that moment.

My body hummed as he slipped his tongue down the nape of my neck. His hands cupped my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and I arched back to clue him in on how wild he was driving me. His palms dipped inside of the top of my dress and stroked my nipples through the cotton of my bra, "Cameron ..." I moaned.

I fumbled for the buckle of his pants before pulling aside my underwear. I was ready for him and primed to explode if I didn't feel him inside me soon. After some fumbling for a condom in his wallet, he was ready for me. Once we joined, I was overcome by the feeling that I belonged with him. I gripped the back of his head and we both finished in a dizzying rush.

We didn't move right away. Instead, his hands surrounded me and I rested comfortably against his chest. It had been a departure from the past times we were intimate. My feelings of inadequacy led to quickies under the cloak of darkness or the rea.s.surance of the blanket covering my body. For once, what I looked like never crossed my mind after our lips came together.

"I love you," he said reverently and I felt his lips brush against the top of my head. "I know you're not ready to tell me you love me, too. But it's okay. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

I snuggled closer to him and I wished I could stay in his arms forever, savor the sensations he brought on when we physically connected. I wanted to borrow his strength-he was the one steady thing in my chaotic universe. If the world outside his car windows disappeared, it wouldn't matter as long as I had him and his love.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait for you?" Cameron asked.

After driving me back to the campus in the morning, Cameron walked me to the front of the health services building. Luckily, I'd left some clothes at his apartment and didn't have to rush back to the dorm to change first.

Sated from being with him again, I'd slept comfortably in his arms without worrying about my appointment. But since I'd been up, I'd been a ball of anxiety about what I was going to say during the session.

"No, I think I'll give you the day off from my craziness." But my joke fell flat, and I saw the worry lines crease his brow. He looked conflicted as he gazed past me at the few students that walked around the campus.

"Kayla, you're not crazy. You're not the first person to go through a rough patch in their life."

The tension in his body hinted that he wasn't speaking hypothetically. Brittany's accusations weren't without merit-I'd been self-involved. I never imagined Cameron could relate to the torment I was in. In my head, I had built him up to epic proportions. He was the perfect guy with the perfect life. The thought that he had his own demons stopped me in my tracks.

"Have you gone through a rough patch?" I asked cautiously.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned back onto his heels. "I guess. I don't know if you'd call it a rough patch, but I had a falling out with my mom and we don't talk anymore."

"What? I met your mom, she seems great. Was this recently?"

"I consider Maggie my real mother, and I've called her Mom since I was fourteen and she married my dad. My real mother has a drug problem, and she checked out of being a parent when I was nine. She was in and out of rehab until she relapsed and took off for good when I was eleven.

"We didn't hear from her for years and, honestly, I figured she was dead. Have you ever seen those composite sketches in the newspapers when they find a body? I would always study them to see if it was her-"

Horrified, I stopped him. "That's awful. I can't imagine how you must have felt not knowing what happened to her."

He nodded stiffly and I sensed his need to get through the story. He wanted to share a piece of himself with me, but talking about his mom was likely dredging up agonizing memories. "A few years ago, she started sending me letters, wanting to be involved in my life again. Nine years of no communication, and all of a sudden she wants to be welcomed with open arms. After I refused to write or call her, she started contacting my dad to see if he could convince me to get in touch with her."

"Cameron, I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"I'm fine with it, Kayla. I remember what it was like growing up with her and I can't forgive her for a lot of the c.r.a.p she did. She'd leave me and my sister alone for hours to score drugs, bring junkies into the house when my dad wasn't around, steal our stuff to get money she needed for her habit-the list could go on and on. Scarlett is in touch with her, but she was a lot younger and doesn't remember things the way I do."

"I don't know what to say. I feel like such an idiot. I've been caught up in my own stuff. I didn't guess you had problems, too. At your house, Scarlett told me you were hurt before, so I a.s.sumed it was an ex-girlfriend she was talking about."

I almost wished for his sake it were an ex-girlfriend. Exes could be forgotten about, erased completely from our lives. But I was well aware of how difficult it was to obliterate a mother's poisonous influence from a psyche.

"Okay, I'm supposed to make you feel better, not lay my c.r.a.p on you before you go into your appointment." He s.n.a.t.c.hed a kiss before straightening up. "I'll be by later and we'll pick up your car from the bar."

I grabbed his elbow before he could slip away. "I'm sorry about your mom. If you ever want to talk about things, I'm a good listener."

"I know, but I swear I'm not torn up over it. I just thought it was important for you to hear you're not the only one with a c.r.a.ppy mother." His tone and expression didn't match up, and it was obvious he had a hard time talking about his mom. After another quick kiss, he walked back toward his car.

I was pensive as I watched him go. Each day I was with Cameron, he managed to surprise me. His confession hadn't lessened his appeal; instead, it made me feel drawn to him even more. He'd obviously been through a lot and still managed to survive. He gave me faith I could do the same.

The waiting room of health services was mostly empty. Only a handful of students sat slumped in the plastic chairs, and I didn't spot anyone I recognized. I checked in with the receptionist, and she handed me a stack of paperwork to fill out. I breezed through the sheets, answering the questions as vaguely as possible. The staff wouldn't refuse to see me if I didn't reveal my deepest and darkest secrets on a medical form.

After a while, a bespectacled man who looked about ten years my senior came to the door and called my name. His black hair was slicked back, he had a medium build, and he stood only a couple of inches taller than me. He introduced himself as Parker and explained he was one of the therapists working for the health services department. My stomach flipped as I followed him into a small office. There was no way I'd comfortably divulge my body image demons with a man not much older than me. How would he be able to understand my daily struggle to not be fat? How could I confess my darkest secrets, like the way I ate naked in front of my mirror some nights so the sight of my fat would stop me from overeating?

The room had a small desk and an office chair near the far wall with two additional chairs set on the opposite side of the desk. There were four cherry-wood bookshelves overflowing with large textbooks and a few miscellaneous knickknacks. I didn't see any personal photos or mementos, and I guessed it was a shared office s.p.a.ce.

Parker's smile was noncommittal as we sat across from each other. He adjusted his black gla.s.ses and looked over the forms I'd filled out. Then he asked, "What brings you here today, Kayla?"

I fidgeted in my seat and played with the dangles on my bracelet for a few seconds before answering. "My friends and boyfriend are worried about me. I guess I've been acting a little depressed lately." He leaned back in his chair and studied me. Since I was new to therapy, I wasn't sure if this was a technique to get me to continue talking. But if it was, I obliged. "My dad died almost two years ago and it seems to have all of a sudden hit me hard."

"How have you been feeling lately?"