The Disappearing Girl Part 17

My eyebrows pulled together in confusion as they started to giggle. "Doesn't the schedule say we're supposed to be meditating and writing in our journals?"

"Ha," April barked out. "You weren't meditating. You had that pining look you get when you're thinking about Cameron."

I shut my journal and sat up straighter. "You got me. I was trying to decide if I should write him a letter or not."

April waved me off. "You could do that any time. I could write it for you if I want." She teased me in a singsong voice, "Dear Cameron, I'm making my roommate loonier than she already is by going on about how crazy s.e.xy you are. Let me tell you all the dirty things I want you to do to me once I break out of this place-"

I shut her up by tossing a pillow at her head. "You're a pain in the a.s.s. Anyway, what mayhem are the two of you planning?"

With a sly smile, Chelsea produced a small plate behind her back. On the plate was a brownie with a dollop of whipped cream and a cherry. Chelsea said, "I snagged it from the dinner cart. I figured we could share it."

Her suggestion sounded innocent enough, but desserts were not given freely at the River Center. Sweets could be a trigger for binge eating, and our nutritional goals included learning the ability to eat them in moderation. The staff decided on a patient-by-patient basis whether you received dessert and, if you did, it was usually only twice a week.

A reprimand was on my tongue, but I reminded myself about the group talk on perfectionism. I had to stop trying to please everyone else and think for myself.

Chelsea broke the brownie into three pieces and handed me the largest section. Taking a bite was practically effortless. The mental hurdles I had to jump over in order to eat had diminished.

"This isn't even that yummy, but you may be onto something. This is kind of fun," I mumbled while chewing on a large chunk of the brownie and watching the girls dig greedily into their pieces.

"Wow, I would've shoved a brownie down your throat sooner if I knew that was all it took to get you to smile," April joked.

"I've missed this," I sighed. "I remember sitting around with my roommates, eating pizza and cookies for dessert and just goofing off. I wasn't always thinking about exit strategies and how I could avoid invitations to dinner." As an afterthought, I added, "I'm over being the downer of the group."

"I second that," April said. "I may not ever be a prima ballerina, but to be honest, I haven't enjoyed dancing in years. When I get released, I want to do something totally reckless and spontaneous. Like go backpacking around Europe or sign up to work on a cruise ship."

"I'm going back to college when I get out of here. I dropped out because I had so much anxiety about trying to be social with other students," Chelsea said. Chelsea was a year older than me and had been at the clinic two and a half months. She had explained after we met each time she was on the verge of release, she experienced a setback that kept her from leaving.

"I'd like to finish school, too," I said. "It's going to be my senior year, but after my c.r.a.ppy grades last semester, I may not graduate on time. After that I'd like to get a job with a newspaper or magazine. Maybe eventually start a magazine featuring real girls and not only fashion models."

"Isn't she adorable?" April asked Chelsea jokingly. "You forgot to mention how you'll marry Cameron and bear his children."

I smiled at her prediction. "Of course I want a future with Cameron, but maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up. I haven't talked to him in weeks and I have no clue when I'll be ready to see him again. We're not together, so he could meet someone else and fall in love with her."

April said, "No way. From what you told me, it sounds like an epic romance. You went through way too many c.r.a.ppy times together to not end up happy at the end of it all. It gives me hope for my love life. I was always too busy and obsessed with dancing for a boyfriend. While I'm schlepping around the world, I plan to have a few flings to make up for it," she said dreamily.

"I bet you will," I said. "You'll have to send me postcards and tell me all about the guys you meet."

"You can count on it. I'll let you live vicariously through me as long as you promise to try to make things work with Cameron," she said narrowing her eyes.

"Fair enough," I replied.

"We should hold our own therapy sessions in here. We'll have brownies and talk about all the ways having an eating disorder sucks," Chelsea said while using her thumb to wipe off a smudge of chocolate left on the corner of her mouth.

"It does suck," April agreed readily. "The worst part was when my family found out about it. They kept saying things like 'snap out of it.' Like it was that easy. Did they honestly believe I want to be like this?"

"I hated how my friends and family tried to pigeonhole me. Like because I'm not a size zero, they thought I didn't have a problem," Chelsea added. Chelsea had an average build and long black hair reaching toward her waist. From group sessions, I learned Chelsea struggled with binge eating and bulimia. "We're real people, not all of us are going to fit the textbook definition of having an eating disorder."

"I couldn't stand how my eating dictated my life. I had to avoid people and places because they would get in the way of starving myself or going on one of my binges," I said.

They both nodded and the room quieted. We became lost in the past, mourning all we'd lost because of our illnesses. I thought about the dinner dates with Cameron I had turned down, the times I'd told Brittany and the twins I was too tired to go out to The Court for dinner and drinks. I could never get those missed moments back, but I could plan for a brighter future.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

"I looked in the mirror today and I think it was the first time in a long time I was able to see what I really looked like," I told my therapist, Noreen, a week later.

"What was your reaction?"

"I've avoided mirrors a lot and I think it was to prevent myself from seeing the real me. Where's all the fat I thought was on my body? Because all I see is flesh sticking to my bones. Being under a hundred pounds was never my dieting goal. But once I got there, it still wasn't good enough," I explained.

"Are you learning to accept your body?"

"It's hard, but I'm getting there. I mean that's what you guys preach here, right? Getting rid of all the dangerous and destructive feelings that got me to this point." I pursed my lips and felt my shoulders tense. "My problem is I have a tendency to feel too much. I was able to be apathetic after my dad died, shut everything off to survive. Once all those feelings I pushed down came back to haunt me, I felt suffocated by my emotions."

"How can you change the way you handle your emotions to make better choices?" she asked.

I had become accustomed to the probing questions. Being more of an introvert, it had been a little strange for me to constantly talk about myself and hyper-a.n.a.lyze my every action. From sun up to sun down, every activity was about how to change the way you were on the inside as a way to survive outside of those walls.

"I guess I need to find a happy medium. Not turn everything off, but not obsess over every tiny setback, either," I answered.

Half an hour later, I finished my session and headed in the direction of my room. Each meeting with my counselor left me with a lot to think about, and I liked having time alone afterward to process all that was said. I was learning to not tune out the voice of reason inside me that wanted to heal and move on from the past.

When I entered the room, I noticed a few pieces of mail were left on my bed. My initial guess was most of the letters were from Lila. Although she visited with my mom at least twice a week, she liked to send me notes on the days she didn't see me. She'd gotten it into her head she was going to help build up my self-esteem, and the letters were homage to all the ways I was awesome. She certainly laid it on thick, but they did have the desired effect of making me smile and laugh.

My mom was making progress, but my expectations were modest. Whether or not she was able to accept Lila and me as we were was insignificant. I couldn't give her words that much influence over my life anymore. She was trying, and I gave her credit for it. Lila had confessed they went shopping together and my mom hadn't made one derogatory remark about my sister's clothing size.

I picked up one of the envelopes that were on the bed. Cameron's tight scrawl was instantly recognizable on the envelope. My heart stopped for a minute, and I had to remind myself to breathe. My fingers trembled as I tore into the envelope and drew out the lined sheet of paper.

Dear Kayla, I swore I was going to leave you alone, but Angus insisted on writing you. He misses you like crazy and wanted me to pa.s.s along the message. To be honest, we both do.

Lila told me you're doing great there. Maybe I'm being selfish because when I heard that, the only thing I could think of was you'd be coming back to me soon.

I get the reasons we can't be together right now, but it still sucks. I don't want to be without you and I freak out when I think that things may be over for good between us. I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you.

I'm here when you're ready to talk. I'm not trying to put any pressure on you, but I didn't want you to think I forgot about you either. Angus is keeping the spot on my bed warm for you and it's ready whenever you want to come back.

Love, Cameron "You look like you're about to pa.s.s out, Kayla. Who's the letter from?"

Before I could respond to April, she scanned the letter behind me. I'd been immersed in Cameron's words and hadn't heard her come back to our room. She let out a low whistle. "d.a.m.n, Kayla, if you're not going to take back that spot on his bed, I'll volunteer."

I playfully shoved her. "Hands off. I'm thinking it was impulsive of me to decide not to be in touch with him while I'm here. I really want to write him back. What do you think?"

"Yes!" April shouted. "I'd kill someone to find a guy like that. You're lucky I like you or I'd totally try to steal him from you. It's so romantic he wrote you a love letter."

I bit down hard on my lower lip. "It's embarra.s.sing to think back about how ugly I was to him when we were together. I said and did some messed up things."

Cameron's letter couldn't have come at a better time. I needed the rea.s.surance he still had feelings for me. I'd let him go because I was trying to give him the opportunity to walk away. But the truth was most of my daydreams involved being released from River Center and hurling myself back into his arms. The only thing holding me back was the constant playback in my head of all the ways I'd screwed things up.

"This disease is ugly. Kind of ironic, I guess, since we're doing it to be pretty." April shrugged her delicate shoulders and handed me the notebook that had been resting on my nightstand. "Write him back. If you think about it too much, you'll probably change your mind."

April had a point. There was a litany of reasons to keep Cameron at bay. Yet, he was the one bright spot in the dark days from before. I was finally able to start believing he loved me. He'd said it before, but I hadn't thought I was good enough for him. As if he loved the counterfeit Kayla I chose to show him, and not the real version. I imagined if I gained weight, he would leave me.

"I think my hang-up is I met him while I was at one of my lowest points. Like the thought that something good could come out of anything about that time in my life is impossible. But I wasn't always miserable. I could forget sometimes what was going on with me and have an amazing time with him."

"Just because it wasn't the right time to meet someone doesn't mean jack. It happens that way sometimes. You're not looking for love and it finds you regardless and bowls you over."

I reached for the notebook. Pleased her hara.s.sment worked, April left me alone to figure out what I wanted to say to Cameron. Her release was imminent and I was already imagining how much I'd miss her. Friendships grew fast at the River Center.

I'd failed to tell Cameron how I felt for most of our relationship. But I wanted to be candid with him going forward.

Cameron, I miss you too. And give Angus a kiss from me. On second thought, maybe a hug would suffice.

I hated being here at first. It was c.r.a.ppy to give up control and trust a bunch of strangers to help me. But I made some friends and the staff is actually not evil minions like I initially thought.

Don't be afraid of losing me. My heart will always belong to you. As much as I tried to deny it, you've had me since you gave me one of your cheesy grins and shoved a credit card application in my face. I ran away from you out of fear. I thought something that powerful and pa.s.sionate couldn't be real.

I don't know if I'll ever be completely "cured" but I'm dealing with my baggage. I still need some time to work through everything, but I want to come back to you too. I'll be in touch when I can.

Love, Kayla

Chapter Thirty.

"Kayla! What the h.e.l.l! I didn't know you were coming back!" Brittany squealed. She charged me and pulled me in tight for a hug. I laughed at her greeting. I was just as excited to see her.

"I thought I'd surprise you. I was only released a couple of days ago. The counselors didn't want me to miss the start of the semester. I'm still going to do therapy, but just on an outpatient basis," I said in a rush.

The hurdles I'd faced at the start of treatment had been easier to get through the longer I stayed at the River Center. By the end, I wasn't the girl full of resentment and despair who sat in the back of group meetings, not truly hearing what anybody had to say. I could listen and relate to the emotions of the other patients. We were all lost in some way, trying to find our way back.

"I'm so flipping happy right now! I thought I was going to have to get a blow-up doll and pretend you lived here to keep the college from giving away your room," Brittany said, giggling.

We were back in the same townhouse as the year before. The college used a lottery system to determine housing. Since Brittany and Danielle had lucked out and received top picks, they were able to select our old dorm, as well as Jessica and me as their roommates.

I followed Brittany into her empty room as she dragged in her suitcase. I had arrived a couple of hours before and had half my belongings unpacked already. "Well you know how my summer was," I said. "What about your own?"

"Not as exciting as yours. I heard from your mom you were living with a crack head wh.o.r.e-can't wait to hear the stories about that. Mostly, I spent time with Kurt and helped out at my parents' restaurant."

I held no resentment toward Marti. I felt sorry for her, if anything. Her dream of becoming a model was unlikely, and I hoped she stopped hurting herself in order to make it happen. I had sent her a text before I left for the clinic to let her know I was going to get treatment. She sent me a text back saying she felt sorry for me and not to let the doctors turn me into a fat cow. Part of my recovery was cutting off contact with her and the rest of the girls I'd found through Pro-Ana. In the future, I wanted to share my story and hoped to change the unhealthy mindset of women like me.

"I'm glad you and Kurt are still together. You make a good couple," I said as she unzipped her suitcase.

"I think so, too. But I may need you to feign another fainting spell in a room of hotties in case it doesn't work out," she quipped.

"I'm at your service," I said with a laugh.

Brittany stopped unpacking and stared at me shrewdly. "You're back."

She didn't have to elaborate. What was left unsaid was I had disappeared for half a year. The Kayla she befriended in freshman year, the girl who bought her M&Ms and trashy romance novels after each boy broke her heart, was back in her life.

"How has your mom been? Did the therapists recommend shock therapy after her sessions?"

"Nothing quite that extreme, but I think counseling is helping her, too. We talked a lot during family counseling, and it seems like a lot of her screwy ideas about beauty came from how she was raised as a pageant princess. Also, she was so angry after my dad died, blaming him for not taking care of his body better and having a heart attack. That was the reason she went after my sister and me about our weight," I explained.

"I still think she's horrible, but for your sister's sake maybe she'll stop being so d.a.m.n wicked all the time."

"I'm not expecting miracles overnight, but she's trying. Lila sees that and she's having an easier time living with her. Lila has come a long way too. Without having me to lean on, she's become her own person."

Lila shined now, and she'd discovered a confidence she didn't know she had. She had told my mom she was no longer forfeiting control over her life. Not only would she eat what she wanted, but she'd also choose her own friends and boyfriend. My mom wouldn't concede complete control, but at least Lila had found her voice. Their new dynamic alleviated the guilt I typically felt when I returned to college.

Brittany interrupted my thoughts. "Does anyone else know you're back?" Brittany lifted her eyebrows suggestively.

"Not yet. I thought I'd plan something nice and surprise him. I hinted in an email to him last week I was hoping to be released soon," I explained.

After I talked it over with my therapist, I started exchanging emails with Cameron about three weeks earlier. We hadn't gotten into anything too heavy. They were mostly light-hearted notes that made me smile. I wasn't afraid of our relationship anymore. I was only filled with hopeful expectation when I thought about Cameron.

"Well, I've been stalking him on Facebook all summer to make sure I didn't see any posts or pictures of girls trying to make a move on him while you were away. He's barely been online. I'm a.s.suming he spent the summer pining for you, which makes it safe for you to be with him again," Brittany said. "Enough boy talk for now. Get your lazy a.s.s downstairs and help me bring up the rest of the stuff."

"Glad to see you're over treating me with kid gloves."

As I followed her down the stairs, she spun on me suddenly. "I'm not sure what the rules are for talking about your appearance. But I just want you to know I think you look good. You look healthy."

More importantly, I felt healthy. Before I left the clinic, I found out my weight. I was one hundred and ten pounds. I'd gained fourteen pounds during treatment. I wasn't the same person leaving the facility. The number didn't send me into a spiral, and I was at peace knowing my weight would most likely climb as I continued to eat a normal diet. I was comfortable in my own skin, and it felt incredible.

I was a work in progress, and two months at the River Center wouldn't fix all the things in my life. I'd probably always have to remind myself to eat healthy and not plot out elaborate ways to stay skinny. I also had to deal with the conflicting emotions brought on by my parents. But I was gaining confidence in myself, and none of my problems seemed insurmountable any longer. The uncertainty of life didn't cripple me as it had before.

Another change was my newfound willingness to ask for help when I needed it. Being in therapy or on antidepressants didn't mean I was weak. They were only an acknowledgement that I was tired of struggling and needed help.

"Thanks Britt." I rolled my eyes. "Now let's get all your c.r.a.p moved in so you can help me think up ways to win my guy back."

I nixed most of Brittany's plans to wow Cameron, since the majority of them were inspired by her latest obsession with BDSM books. As much as I wanted to rock Cameron's world, I also wanted him to see the real me. I'd kept myself hidden, and a part of being the braver Kayla was showing him the pieces of me he'd been missing.

It was after six when the door to Cameron's apartment opened. Angus ran over to greet his owner, and I giggled at the startled expression on his face when he saw me in his kitchen. His voice was strangled. "Kayla ..."

It was a little cruel to scare him, and I was probably lucky he hadn't chased me with the baseball bat he kept by the door in case of burglars. However, the look on his face was priceless.