by Fisher, Lisa
“Aisley?” I turned around at the sound of Easton’s voice. “What are you doing here?”
“I—uh—I’m just paying my respects.”
He nodded solemnly, hands in his pockets, looking down at the grave. “I miss him every day.”
“I’m sorry, East.” I’d do anything to take his pain away.
He shrugged. “Life’s unfair. One day you’re here and the next you’re just gone. Fucking gone.”
“What happened to him, East?” I asked quietly, desperate to know.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped.
“I’m sorry, I just thought—he seemed so healthy and all.” I stopped, not wanting to piss him off any further.
“I don’t ask you why you’re here, Aisley.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, you couldn’t bring yourself down here for his god damned funeral, so it has to be a pretty big deal for you to be here,” he shouted.
“I told you I’m sorry,” I said lamely, not knowing what else to do.
“Well, sorry won’t change a damn thing, will it, pop star?”
“East, how can I help you?”
“You can’t. Unless you can go back in time a year and two days. No one can ever do anything.” He broke down in a quiet sob, and I pulled him into me, offering him the only thing I could—comfort.
After a few minutes, he pulled back, wiping his face. “Shit. I’m sorry for yelling at you. It’s not your fault he’s gone. It’s just been a rough couple days.”
“Don’t even worry about it, green eyes.” I hugged him close.
***
Being tangled up in Easton’s arms had to be what heaven was like. He snuck up my window again after we left the cemetery and we spent all night making love.
I made a mental note to ask Becks about what happened to Easton’s dad. Something horrible had to have happened for him to be acting this fucked up about it. Then again, I’d never lost somebody close to me, so maybe this was just how it was.
Maybe East would never be the same again.
“Hey, pretty girl.” He yawned and hugged me closer. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I giggled. “How are you feeling?”
“Mmm, everything feels better when we’re this close.”
“Shh, I think I hear my mom.”
He groaned. “When are you going to invite me over, instead of sneaking me in here like you’re ashamed of me?”
“False alarm,” I said, hearing nothing but silence in the hall. “And I’m not ashamed. I told her we were seeing each other again.”
“And she hasn’t wondered why I haven’t been over?”
If I were being honest, I didn’t want East around my parents because I was afraid they would say something about why I was here. If he had to find out, I wanted it coming from me, not them. And who said he had to find out? If he were really that curious, all he would have to do was grab an Us Weekly or People Magazine. “She’s not that nosy.”
“Puh-lease! Your mom is one of the nosiest people I’ve ever met.” He laughed.
“Maybe so, but I’m a grown woman.”
“All the more reason to show me off to them. It’s not like we can get in trouble for doing it now.”
“East!” I smacked his shoulder. “I do not want my parents to think we’re doing it.”
He laughed. “Fine. I’ll go out the window, but this is the last time, woman.” He pulled me in for one last kiss, before getting dressed.
As if she timed it perfectly, there was a knock on the door. Easton gave me a knowing smile, but didn’t say a word.
“Aisley? You up, honey?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I made pancakes again.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Will you be down soon?”
“Yes, give me five minutes.”
“Okay, honey. And Aisley?”
“What Mom?”
“Tell Easton that we would prefer him to use the front door, and he’s welcome to stay for breakfast.”
I had officially been humiliated. How would I face my mother now that she knew I had been sneaking Easton in like we were two horny teenagers?
“Okay, Easton?” she yelled through the door, presumably to make her point clear.
I gave him a look that said ‘don’t you dare answer her’, but he just shrugged, giving me a shit-eating grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why did you answer her? Now she knows!” I threw a pillow at him.
“She already knew, Ais. Besides, I didn’t want to seem rude.”
“You are so not coming to breakfast.”
“What? Come on.” He gave me his best puppy dog eyes.
“Ugh, fine! But don’t embarrass me, East. I mean it!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, babe.”
But his smile told me otherwise.
When we were both dressed and I finally got the nerve up, we came into the kitchen, expecting to get the biggest lecture from my mom. Instead, we were greeted with something far more horrifying.
“Devin.”
“Aisley, we need to talk.”
“Mom?” I looked over at her. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
“He just got here, and I figured you were coming down, anyway.” She waved me off and looked at Easton. “Hello, East. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Who’s Devin?” he whispered to me.
“I’ll tell you later, just dish yourself up. I’ll be right back.” I looked to Devin. “Let’s go into the living room.”
“Gladly.”
“What are you doing here, again? I’ve done everything you asked,” I said when we were far enough away.
“Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me, Aisley—and I would’ve called, but last time, you hung up on me.”
I rolled my eyes. “What’s important?”
“Relax, Aisley. I’m not here to ruin your vacation, though it seems you’re enjoying it.” I didn’t miss the way he said vacation, or the way he looked over at Easton when he said it.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I have a shitload of paperwork for you.”
“I don’t suppose it can wait?”
“The music business waits for no one, sweetheart.”
“Right. Okay, well, what do you have?”
“Some contracts, stuff about tour dates, a few movie scripts.”
“I’m not an actress.”
“Yeah, but you have a pretty face.”
“Something to add to my resume,” I said sarcastically.
“You think it’s funny, but it’s the truth. People will pay you a lot of money just to stand there, even if you only have one line.”
“So you came here to bring me a bunch of one-lined movie scripts?” I smirked.
“No, these aren’t just ‘one lines.’ It would mean a big commitment on your part, after the tour. Just think about it.”
“After the tour, I plan on recording another album. I’m still under contract for one more, right?”
“Yes. Depending on how the rest of the tour goes.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He lowered his voice. “You fainted twice on stage, Aisley. You are damn lucky you’ve still got a job.”
I swallowed hard.
“And I know you think I’m a giant dickhead, but all joking aside, I can tell you aren’t eating enough—just by looking at you.”
I wrapped my arms around my body. “I’m eating.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are. Just not enough. I’m damn sure you’re not eating enough to tour. You know how grueling that lifestyle is.”
I bit my lip. This lecture was a long time coming.
“And believe it or not, Aisley Carter, but I am on your side. My job is to help you keep yours—so get on board. Please. If not for anything else other than your own health. People die from this shit.”
&n
bsp; “I’m not going to die,” I mumbled.
“Maybe not, but you’re not going to be touring, either. Not unless you start taking this seriously.”
Fuck. He was right. He had to be right. Damn. “Fine. Okay. I’ll be better by the time I have to leave. I promise.”
He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe me. “You should start by talking to your family and the people who care about you.”
I offered him a small smile. “I know I’ve been a huge pain in the ass. But, thank you.”
“Just get healthy. Oh, and read all of that,” he said motioning to the stack of papers in my hand. “Okay, I’ll call you in a few days.”
When I walked back into the kitchen, I was met with three sets of questioning eyes. “Who wants to help me read this shit?” I offered meekly.
“Watch your mouth, Aisley Marie,” Mom scolded.
John chuckled.
“We ought to wash your mouth out with soap,” Easton joked, taking another bite of his pancakes.
“Ha ha,” I said.
Mom turned to Easton. “And you. Where are your manners? Sneaking into a young lady’s bedroom. Shame on you!”
Easton hung his head, and I smiled obnoxiously. “I bet you don’t want to know how many times he did that when we were kids.”
“What?” her eyes widened. “He didn’t.” She looked to Easton, who was blushing ferociously.
I shrugged. “He’s such an animal. No manners at all, this one.” I gave him a wicked grin.
Mom shook her head at us. “You’re both trying to give me a heart attack, I swear.”
“We love you,” I said, popping a strawberry in my mouth.
“Well, sit down. Eat a proper meal.” She slapped my hand away from the dish of strawberries and pointed to the pancakes. I did as she said, hoping she wouldn’t say anything more about my eating habits in front of East. He didn’t need to know how weak I had become.
Because until just now, staring at those damn pancakes, I didn’t even realize it myself.
That scared the shit out of me.
***
Chapter 11
Devin was right. They were all right. How had I let myself fall this deep? How could I think what I was doing was okay?
Locked behind the safety of my old bedroom, I studied my reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t even recognize the girl looking back at me. I was no longer underweight—thanks to treatment—but the girl in the mirror wasn’t the same girl she used to be… before. There was a sadness etched deep in my skin, holding me down like a weight.
I was sinking.
I was no longer in control.
More than that, I was terrified.
A feeling of shame washed over me, engulfing me, starving me of oxygen. Could I be fixed? Was it possible to be normal again or would I forever be living in this vicious cycle of self-hate and starvation? I ran my hands through my hair, and sunk down on the floor, my eyes never leaving my reflection.
I have an eating disorder.
I am anorexic.
The admission caused my insides to rumble and my heart to hurt. Despite that, I couldn’t quiet the voices in my head, the ones telling me I wasn’t thin enough. Covering my ears with my hands, I desperately tried blocking their whispers.
I’m not fat. I’m healthy.
With a growl, I jumped up, grabbed the full length, wooden mirror, and shoved it over. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, but the carpeting in my bedroom kept it from shattering.
Too bad.
My eyes brimmed with tears. My gaze stayed focused on the side of the mirror. It felt like it was almost begging me to pick it back up, so it could taunt me again.
“Aisley?” John called from the other side of the door.
I couldn’t bring myself to answer him right away.
He knocked. “Aisley?”
“I’m fine,” I yelled, my voice quivering.
“What the hell was that?”
“Just moving some stuff around.”
He twisted the knob. “Open up.”
“I’m fine!” I yelled louder, trying to steady my voice.
He twisted the knob once more, before giving up. “I’ll be downstairs.”
I didn’t acknowledge him. Once his footsteps retreated down the hall, I waited a good five minutes and made my way out the door.
I could fix this.
I didn’t want to be broken any more.
I hurried down the stairs to the kitchen, knowing everyone but John had already left. Dad was working, Mom was shopping, and East went home.
I opened the fridge, just staring at the contents for several minutes, before slamming it shut. Then I did it again, and again.
I took my anger out on the fridge door—anger that was directed at only myself.
I wanted to reach in and pick something. Anything. Just eat it. Just pretend that there wasn’t some giant struggle going on in my mind each time I thought about food.
But I couldn’t deny it anymore.
Now that I admitted it, it was real.
“Uuugh.” I slammed the door shut one more time, and moved to the pantry. There had to be something in there I wanted to eat.
I flipped the light switch and looked around. I hadn’t been in here since I had been home. When we were kids, East, Becks, and I used to sneak in here and grab a stash of cookies and chips—hiding them in my room, so we could veg out and watch movies—without my parents knowing we were eating all kinds of junk food.
The memory brought a smile to my face for a split second, reminding me there was a time I felt normal. Back when I could eat whatever I wanted without the nagging sense of self-doubt following me like a shadow, shading me in a darkness that I couldn’t shake.
Cheerios. Macaroni and Cheese. Pickles. Mayonnaise. Ravioli. Potatoes. My eyes scanned the shelf, waiting for something to sound good.
As if it were a gut reaction, I took my hands and swiped them across one of the shelves, knocking everything to the floor.
Jars broke. Cereal spilled everywhere.
I didn’t care.
I sunk down on the floor with a sob, hugging my knees to my chest and burying my face. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.”
I’m not sure how long I stayed like that. Maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour. Eventually, John came in to check on me—or maybe he had been standing there all along—I couldn’t be sure. “Aisley?”
So much of me wanted to ignore him. The same part wanted to pretend this never happened. To go back to before… when I was comfortably oblivious. I lifted my head to look at him anyway. “I’m fine,” I said instinctively. Trying to convince myself, more than him.
I could see the concern in his eyes as he scanned the pantry. “Come on, get up. I’ll help you clean this up before your parents come home.” He held out his hand.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed it and let him pull me to my feet. Wiping my eyes, I tried to put on a brave face. “Please don’t tell them.”
It took him a minute to settle on an answer. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes after that. John grabbed the garbage can and the broom, and we just picked everything up without another word.
Then I went straight up to my room and hid under the covers, eventually falling asleep, while praying I would wake up tomorrow with a little hope.
***
Chapter 12
Monday morning couldn’t come fast enough this week. Since my breakdown in the kitchen, I couldn’t think of anything else. I couldn’t focus when I was with Becks or Easton. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that I had a problem. How did I not know I had a problem? I was in treatment for two fucking months and I hadn’t even realized it. So for the last few days, I tried really hard to finish every meal and not think about buying another scale.
Easier said, than done.
East knew something was up. But, then, he always could read me like a book. So I took the easy way o
ut and I avoided him. He texted me often, but I always made up an excuse as to why I couldn’t see him. After three days, I knew he would stop buying my excuses soon, if he hadn’t already.
John gave me a once over when I hounded him to get me to Dr. Tinsley’s office early, but he did exactly that, and I was ten minutes early.
“You’re here early, Ms. Carter.”
“You know, you can just call me Aisley. I think I have too many people in my life calling me that.” I thought of all the people at the label and the people I worked with on tour.
“All right, Aisley. How are you feeling this morning?”
“I—” Goddammit. I wasn’t ready to say it out loud. I was chickening out. “I’m fine.”
She looked genuinely surprised by that answer. She was hoping I was ready to spill my guts. So was I. “Just fine?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Did anything happen this week?”
“No.” I felt myself starting to sweat. This wasn’t good. Why was I torturing myself? Just say it… “Err, yes.”
“Something did?”
“I realized that I might, um, I think I maybe have some issues.” Whew. There. I said it. Out loud, even.
“What would those issues be?”
But, of course. The damn doctor was going to make me say it. “I have an eating disorder.” I cringed as I said it, hating the truth.
She tried to mask her shocked expression with a smile. “And when did you realize this?”
“I don’t know. A couple of days ago?” Somewhere deep down, though, I always knew.
“Was there something that made you think that?”
“Come on, Doc, level with me. I know that you knew this all along. And I know that I did, too. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
“To be honest, I don’t know anything more about you than you told me yourself.”
“But you must’ve read about me.”
She nodded. “Sure, but those are just opinions, or conclusions people jump to. There could be a number of reasons a person would faint. Many of which don’t mean you have a problem.”
“But I fainted because I wasn’t taking care of myself.”
“And why was that?”
“I don’t know. I love singing, I really do, but there’s just so much pressure to be stick thin and have this perfect body. I just wanted to have it all.”
