by Tonya Plank
She took another breath and I could tell she was holding back tears. I rubbed her shoulder. I remembered her broaching the subject of her former dance life once before, and she hadn’t wanted to talk much about it. A sore spot. I hadn’t pushed, and now wish I would have. At least a little bit.
“She insisted I was too vulnerable to be a dancer,” she went on. “And that dancing was a waste of time and I’d never make a living. It was like being a prostitute, to her. She insisted I go to college and law school like my sister. Make a responsible, respectable living. And that’s how I screwed up my life.” She looked down again, placed her hands on her legs and ran them the length of her thighs, as if to test their size.
I should have known she’d had an eating disorder before. And that dance had brought it back. I saw the signs. I knew other ballet dancers who’d had it too. I was an idiot for not seeing it.
I brushed my fingers up and down her arm, then placed my hands over her hands, and traced her thighs along with her. She looked up at me and smiled weakly.
“Perhaps it won’t be as bad as you think,” I offered. “Seeing her, I mean.”
She shook her head. “No, I could hear the absolute disgust in her voice when she said the word ‘dance.’” I placed my finger on her cheek and traced the beautiful architecture of her face. She finally cracked a smile. “When they get here, you have to stay with me,” she said.
“Of course I will.”
Just then the door opened and a young Asian woman wearing a lab coat stepped in. She was reading some kind of printout, a concerned frown on her face.
“Hello, Ms. Laudner,” she said, finally looking up at Rory. Then her eyes shot to me. I now saw her nametag. She was a doctor. She had a soft, round face but a severe look in her eyes, similar to the one the earlier doctor had.
Rory looked back and forth between the doctor and me.
“We need to talk,” the doctor said, eyes fixing on me. “Would you please excuse us, sir?”
“Oh, he can stay,” Rory said. “He’s my partner.”
The doctor looked at me again. “Okay,” she said cautiously. She pulled up a chair, and sat. “The good news is that there’s nothing wrong with your heart…yet.”
“Yet?” Rory and I said in unison.
“Your blood work shows that you have mild hypoglycemia, which is low blood sugar. You’ve got to eat more often than you do to keep your blood sugar up. You’ve got to eat more than do you in general, Ms. Laudner. Your body mass index is well below what it should be for your age. Well below.” She looked at Rory straight on. “Ms. Laudner, the paramedics detected an irregular heartbeat. From your EKG it looks like it’s a murmur at this point. But I must tell you, Ms. Laudner, starving yourself of important nutrients can have a long-term effect on your heart.”
“Starving myself?” Rory said.
“Have you lost a lot of weight recently?” Her tone was not yet accusatory but I was worried it could turn into that. That wasn’t what Rory needed. But I knew I couldn’t protect her from everything. And she needed to be confronted with this.
Rory laughed nervously. “I don’t feel like it but it’s funny because people are telling me I have, and my dance costume is fitting a little loosely.”
“There’s nothing funny about anorexia,” the doctor quipped.
“Well, I didn’t mean ha-ha funny,” Rory said.
“She has, doctor. Lost a lot of weight, I mean,” I interjected, trying to deflect the building annoyance between the two, and trying to help out by adding another perspective, hoping Rory would understand. “But just in the last two or three months,” I added, picking up Rory’s hand and caressing her palm.
The doctor nodded. “Thank you,” she said to me before turning back to Rory. “When was the last time you ate? And what did you eat?”
“I, I had a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice just this morning,” Rory stuttered, lifting her chin. I could tell she felt on the defensive. And she was. Unfortunately, it was for her own good.
“How big?” the doctor said.
Rory released her hand from me to show the doctor the height of the glass.
“Is that how much liquid was in it?”
She showed her the amount of liquid with her fingers.
“Okay, what else?”
“A piece of cake that my teammate made for a celebration,” Rory said.
“Really?” The doctor sounded dubious.
“Yes,” Rory said, straightening her back.
“Anything else?”
“Some blueberries in the morning and ten walnuts on the bus.”
The doctor wrote everything down. “Okay and yesterday?”
Rory glanced at me, I assumed because she needed help remembering. “Last night I had a glass of this kale-celery-apple juice Sasha makes and insists I drink,” she said, motioning to me with a little laugh.
I smiled and nodded at the doctor. She made a note and turned her straight-lipped mouth back to Rory. “What else?”
“Um, I had a pretty bad day at work and actually, I think besides that, I had only half a banana in the morning, and a bottle of mineral water.”
“Okay. And how large was the glass of juice?”
Rory shook her head and shrugged. “I mean, regular size.”
“She did drink the whole thing, doctor,” I added.
After Rory continued listing the contents of her meals for the last week, as well as she could remember, the doctor told her she was going to release her but only on the condition that when she got back to L.A. she saw a psychologist as well as a nutritionist. Rory’s eyes widened. A psychologist did sound serious. But I was glad for the doctor’s pushing; this could not be allowed to grow any worse. Any help she could get was a good thing. She gave Rory a list of referrals and said she was putting in a call to her current primary care doctor to make sure Rory followed her advice.
“You think I’m actually anorexic?” Rory asked, worry tingeing her voice. “I just thought that was so over.”
“Not full-blown. Yet. You have anorexia spectrum disorder. You are eating. You’re just under-eating and if you continue to do that, or you eat even less, you’ll continue to weaken your heart. That could have very serious consequences, Ms. Laudner. And you’re so physical, the next collapse could be from a heart attack. I’m not exaggerating.”
My heart fell. I grabbed Rory’s hand again and squeezed it firmly. Her pulse had increased as exponentially as mine. She took a breath, but looked away from both me and the doctor.
“I don’t mean to frighten you,” the doctor said. “But your heart is the last thing you want to damage. See your doctor first thing when you get back and she’ll hook you up with good people.”
“Thank you, doctor,” I said.
After she left, I leaned over and wrapped my arms wholly around Rory, cocooning her small body into mine. She was shaking. Or maybe that was me, with anger at myself. “I’m so sorry. I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t know it was so bad. I will do everything I can to help, my princess. Everything,” I repeated, then kissed her forehead and her cheek. I’d begun trailing kisses down her neck when the door opened again.
We both looked up. It was the nurse.
“There are two people here requesting to see you, miss,” he said.
“Okay, you can send them in,” Rory said.
“We can’t have more than two visitors at a time. I have to ask your friend to step out for a moment.” He gestured to me.
“Oh, well then they can see me one at a time—”
“It’s okay,” I said, giving her forehead another peck before releasing her. “I want to go down to cafeteria and get juice anyway. I can let them have you. But only for a few seconds, of course,” I joked.
“I’ll miss you,” she said, reaching out to me melodramatically as I walked to the door. I turned and blew her a kiss.
I was expecting to see Rajiv and Samantha or Pepe and Mitsi, but instead I locked eyes with a very dramatic-lo
oking young woman, probably around thirty, with long, onyx hair and large, bright green cat eyes. Her face was perfectly made up and she wore a dark professional-looking dress and high, patent leather black pumps. She carried a Gucci bag, and her neck and earlobes were adorned with pearls. She gave me a once-over, then returned my gaze, and narrowed her eyes at me. Then I locked eyes with the man behind her—James. Of course. With the stress of the doctor’s report, I’d forgotten about Rory’s sister.
James glared for about half a second before turning his gaze to the back of the sister’s shiny head. This guy was a supreme joke. He was ridiculously intimidated by me, and needed her for support. I looked back at her. She continued to glower.
“Excuse us,” she said, her voice low and laden with judgment. I hesitated before stepping away from the door. I’d told Rory I’d stay with her during their visit. “I said, excuse us,” she repeated, speaking with more enunciation, as if she thought I might not know English. When I still didn’t move, she harrumphed and circled around me, bumping my shoulder as she opened the door. “Ugh,” she moaned, rubbing her arm as if I’d hurt her.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said, opening the door. It occurred to me I didn’t even know her name yet.
James tried to follow her in but he was larger and it was harder for him to circumvent me.
“So, how are we feeling?” the sister said, her voice syrupy sweet.
“Are you going to let me through?” James said loudly, as if to let the sister know he was being held back and needed her help.
I said nothing, leaving Rory to decide whether I should let the asshole by.
“Rory, please,” the sister said with a laugh.
“Sasha, it’s okay,” she said. “You can go get the juice. But come right back, please.” I turned to her. She had a worried, insecure look in her eye, but nodded. I should do what she says, not what I think is best, I told myself. I stepped aside all of an inch, let the asshole through.
“Jeez, is he in the Russian mafia or something? Talk about thuggish,” I heard the sister say under her breath to James as the asshole pulled the door closed. Rory likely didn’t hear; she said it more for my ears. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Now was not the time for a fight. I stayed at the door, listening through the crack. I wasn’t about to leave until I knew it was okay.
“I’m feeling a lot better,” Rory said, answering the sister’s earlier question, wisely ignoring whatever else she might have heard. “Now that I have fluids in me, and after talking to the doctor. I know what I need to do and I already have a plan to set things in motion for when I get back to L.A.” Rory’s words were wonderfully assertive but her voice was shaky. Her sister really made her nervous.
There was a pause as the sister seemed to move away from the door, closer to the bed. “Oh honey, you do look incredibly thin. I, I feel so badly I haven’t been around much for you. And I know you guys had that fight, but I just, I thought James was taking care…” She stopped without finishing that thought.
So, she believed her little sister needed to be taken care of? And by this pathetic excuse of a man?
No one said anything for a moment. Then the sister continued. “Anyway…what is this about all this dancing you’ve been doing? It seems to have gotten very serious.”
Rory was completely right about the way her sister spoke about dance. She had nothing but disdain for our art.
“Yeah, I’m training with this Russian ballroom dancer, Sasha, for the largest competition in the world. He’s currently ranked number two in the world in Latin dance, and we’re trying hard to shoot for number one, so…I have my work cut out for me!” Rory nearly shouted.
She was met with silence.
“I mean, not today,” she continued. “Today was just for fun. I joined a mambo team at the studio Sasha teaches at, just for fun. I thought being on a team would be fun, and competing before the big competition would be a good experience and a lot of fun.” She was definitely full of nerves. She was, as she’d often put it, blabbering badly.
“Was passing out from anorexia fun?” the sister asked, using Rory’s word against her.
I had to restrain myself from pushing open the door and going back in.
“Jacqueline, be careful,” James said, coming to Rory’s rescue, unbelievably.
“I’m sorry. That was a little too harsh, too soon,” the sister—Jacqueline, apparently—said. She did have the air of a typical lawyer, able to crush you with words uttered ever so innocently.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t even have anorexia,” Rory said. “The doctor said it was only spectrum and she gave me a plan to follow. I’ll be fine.”
“Like last time?” Jacqueline said with an audible snicker.
“Yes, exactly like last time,” Rory shot back, her voice now sounding less shaky. “I overcame it, remember?”
“Rory! You only overcame it after you left that stupid dance school and went to college!” This time Jacqueline yelled.
That was enough. I opened the door a smidgeon, peeking inside. Rory was grabbing the bed rail with one hand, using the other to gather up some of the bedding with her fist. She brightened when she saw me. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
“Sir, sir, please,” came a voice behind me. “I told you, only two visitors at a time.”
I didn’t budge.
“Please, I need to help my sister,” Jacqueline said in my direction, not even fully turning to face me. Disgust tinged her voice.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” Rory said.
“Rory, Rory, please, just talk to us a little while longer. Just hear us out.” This was from James.
“I’m going to have to ask one of you to leave.” The nurse opened the door wider.
I eyed James, giving him the nastiest don’t-you-fucking-dare-go-near-her glare I think I’d ever issued in my life. James turned to me, caught my scowl, and this time actually physically backed away from me.
“It’s okay, honey, I can handle them,” Rory said to me, with a confident smile that suddenly looked genuine. “But thank you!”
“I’m right out here if you need me,” I said to her, shooting James one last glower.
I smiled back at my lovely Rory, her face still radiating with assuredness, and slowly stepped away.
“Thank you,” said the nurse, closing the door behind me.
“You called him ‘honey.’ Rory, is that your boyfriend?” Jacqueline practically screeched.
“Obviously. And he’s a him, not a that,” Rory said, her voice now forceful.
“Psssht,” Jacqueline said. “Okay, so now I see it. You’ve become obsessed with this Russian guy and you’re giving up your whole life for him and some pipe dream.”
Rory said nothing. I could feel her fuming.
“I mean, if you’re doing all this training and competing, you’re obviously not working that hard at your job,” Jacqueline continued. “When I was a first-year associate I was at the office eighty hours a week, at least, to prove myself. Rory, your bosses have to realize your lack of passion.” There was a pause. Then, “Rory, stop glaring at me. I’m trying to help you. You’re my sister and I can’t watch you spiraling out of control so early in your career.”
“I’m actually taking some time off from my job. I’m focusing on dance right now,” Rory said matter-of-factly. I wondered if she’d actually made that decision or was just saying that to piss her sister off. I hoped the former.
“Oh my God, are you serious? After all that work you put into your career. The LSAT, law school, the bar exam. All that money? You’re going to let it go, just like that?”
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Rory said. “It’s only a few months.”
“She doesn’t sound ridiculous at all,” James piped in. “The market is so tight these days. The field is saturated with too many attorneys. Starting attorneys are taking temporary document review positions forever. It’s crazy competitive.”
“You know wha
t? Why don’t you stay out of it?” Rory snapped. “What are you even doing here? How did you even find me?”
“That’s right. If you leave your career now, even for a short time, it will be obvious your passion isn’t there.” I couldn’t believe how brazen Jacqueline was, completely ignoring her sister’s question. “Especially if you leave for something as ridiculous as dance,” she continued. “You’ll never get another law job. I’m not exaggerating here, Rory. I’ve been around. I’ve seen it happen to other attorneys. I know what I’m talking about.” Jacqueline’s voice was so serious, so frantic. It made me shudder.
I certainly didn’t want Rory not to be able to return to her profession in the future, if she wanted to. As much as I wanted her to dance with me, for now and forever, I didn’t want to limit her life choices.
There was a long pause. No one spoke for a while. Then James did.
“Rory, that actually hurts. Telling me to stay out of it. I still care about you. Deeply. In fact, I recently realized how much I still feel for you and how wrong I was to get angry with you over taking a single ballroom class. I feel like if I would have been supportive, you wouldn’t have gotten so carried away with this, and we’d still be together.”
I wanted to kill him. I really did. But I trusted that Rory could take care of him herself now.
“I missed you,” he went on. “I tried to call but you didn’t answer. So I went to the studio. I thought I’d find out which classes you were signed up for and take one…” There was another pause. Rory must have shot him a bemused look because then he chuckled. “I know, me taking a dance class. Hilarious. I just… Rory, I should have never let you go. I was going through a lot. I really missed my job at the firm, doing corporate litigation. I really didn’t like entertainment law. I really didn’t like working for celebrities. They’re just such vapid…ugh. Anyway, when you started dancing, I just, I guess I started thinking of all the TV shows about dance and I just started thinking of you like all the obnoxious a-list, a-hole, so-called artists we represented. I just… I took it all out on you. And I’m sorry. I really am.”
