“What are you doing?” Marti asked, wandering into the kitchen the next afternoon. She grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and sat next to me at the table wearing only a t-shirt and a thong. I had a feeling I’d have to grow accustomed to her lack of modesty.
“Adding a couple of new pages to my Thinspiration book. I want to drop these last few pounds and move on with my life. After I get below my goal weight, then maybe things can go back to normal.”
Marti nodded knowingly. “I hear ya. If you drop to a couple pounds under your goal, you won’t be as stressed if you gain a little bit here or there. What tips are helping you the most?”
“I think about food constantly, so I’m trying to fight my cravings. One of the things that works is I count to a hundred whenever I want something to eat. By the time I get to a hundred, I’ve had enough time to think of all the reasons I shouldn’t eat. Another thing is I’ll pinch each spot on my body where I find any fat, really hard.”
Marti tapped her acrylic nails against the table while she seemed to mull over her own tips. “You know what else helps me when I want to eat? Watch people eat! It’s kind of gross, especially when you see fat people doing it. Or do something else you think is revolting. Like clean the bathroom, or change kitty litter.”
A buried part of me understood how sick it truly was. We were talking about how to starve ourselves in the same way people talk about the weather. It made me wonder if I should be listening to the sensible ones in my life and stop the insanity. I was on the brink of my own personal destruction, but I was too detached to care enough to stop it.
I turned the page in my Thinspiration book and froze.
I will not relent. They will not break me.
I had posted the words on a Pro-Ana forum page and printed it out afterward as a reminder of my resolve. I wrote the message during my first week back at my mom’s house, at the start of my summer vacation. I was paranoid after overhearing Lila and Cameron, convinced they were concocting plans to make me fat again.
Marti may not have been the best influence, but she didn’t want to undermine my goals. My object was to lose five more pounds and then return to a normal diet and a normal life. I’d stop the fasting, binging, purging, and laxative use. All the things tearing me away from the people I cared about could be in my past. I’d have it all: my dream guy, my best friends and sister back in my life, and the perfect body.
“Try and smile, Kayla, you’re scaring away my good tippers,” Marti joked two weeks later as I sat on a stool at the bar she worked at. The bar was a hole-in-the-wall place named the Idle Hour with clientele who were looking to get drunk fast. About ninety percent of the patrons were single men who tended to zero in on any girl who stumbled in. Marti joked about how she brought home the leftover scraps at the end of each night.
I watched Marti working energetically, collecting bottles of alcohol to mix drinks. When I asked her before where her endless spunk came from, she told me she popped caffeine-filled diet pills throughout the day.
I took a hesitant sip of my seltzer with lemon. My life had changed drastically since I’d come to live in Toms River with Marti. My days mostly involved hanging out with Marti before she went to work. We didn’t have much in common, but she passed no judgment and proved to be a distraction. There was a frantic desperation bubbling below the surface, and despite her Pro-Ana allegiances, I wondered about how content she truly was with her life.
At night, I buried myself in work, trying to take on as many article assignments as I could handle. I was sleepwalking through my life; things were crumbling around me, but nothing mattered.
Marti was a storm, and I was getting sucked into the vortex. She was outspoken, chastising me for not taking pride in my body. She relished her thinness and took pleasure in her appearance. She brought home strangers from the bar, men with blurred vision, drunken with lust for the outrageous bartender. Most nights, the sound of wall banging was what I drifted off to.
I hadn’t spoken to any of my friends or family since arriving at Marti’s apartment. And when I could no longer bear to listen to the pleas left on my voicemail by Cameron, Lila, and Brittany, I changed my cell number. Messages left on Facebook and in my email inbox got deleted without being read. The only communication I had was a quick one-line email to Lila letting her know I was okay—and that was only after she threatened to report me missing if I didn’t get in touch with someone immediately.
I fantasized over and over again about how things would be once I got to ninety-five pounds. I’d pack up my stuff and drive right over to Cameron’s place. I’d tell him how much I’d fallen for him and that I could finally be the girl he deserved. I’d be able to take my clothes off in front of him, shamelessly, and he’d be floored at how I had the body of his wildest fantasies.
Two measly pounds stood in my way. It was all I had left to lose, and I was determined more than ever to drop them.
I wanted out of this life. I didn’t want to lie awake, painfully isolated, as another faceless stranger moaned through the thin walls and Marti screamed out in ecstasy. Her lifestyle was one I couldn’t understand, and resentment snaked around me. How was she able to do it? How could she let go completely with someone she barely knew when I wasn’t able to do the same with the man who possessed my heart?
Marti interrupted my thoughts. “Hey, take off that sweatshirt. The guy in the corner has been eyeing you.”
Daring a glance back, I saw a man with short blond hair and a lean build staring at me unabashedly. I blushed at the attention and whirled back to face Marti. “I’m not getting undressed in the middle of the bar.”
When I didn’t comply, she reached over and grabbed the hood of the sweatshirt. It took a few seconds for her to wrestle me out of the shirt. Although I had a tank top underneath, I felt naked and exposed. She looked me over with approval. “Much better. We work our asses off for our bodies, why wouldn’t you want to show it off?” A second later, she shot me a bemused grin. “And look who decided to come this way.”
My anxiety level heightened as an unfamiliar arm brushed against mine. The man took the empty bar stool next to me and didn’t seem put off when I didn’t acknowledge his arrival. A hand appeared in front of me. “Hi, I’m Holden.”
I cast a sidelong glance in his direction. “Hi.”
“Hey, can I buy you a drink?”
I tilted my head to the side and held up the seltzer. “I already have one.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to hang out until you need another,” he said flirtatiously.
“Umm …”
Marti poked her head between the two of us, not trying to conceal the fact she’d been eavesdropping. “You have to forgive my friend. She’s getting over a messy breakup. Maybe you can make her forget all about her ex.”
“Marti,” I hissed.
Holden took the announcement as an invitation to place his hand on my knee and lean in close. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered, “I’ve been watching you all night, trying to get up the nerve to talk to you. You’re so pretty, but you haven’t smiled once. I’d like to have a shot at making you smile.”
I felt nothing. Holden was attractive, but he stirred no emotion in me. He wasn’t the one I wanted. He could never be the one to fill me with a bottomless yearning that woke me up in the middle of the night, screaming out in agony.
“I gotta go,” I addressed Holden and Marti. Marti yelled out my name as I hopped off the stool, but I ignored her. I would explain things later. I didn’t want an overeager stranger to fill the void inside me. She’d understand when I told her food was the only thing I wanted to relieve the emptiness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I was devoid of feeling by the time I finished my binge. What I had learned about purging was some foods simply refused to come back up and wound up stopping weight loss. My post-bar binge had included a box of macaroni and cheese, two cans of canned spaghetti, and a pint of ice cream—all foods that came up as easily as
they went down.
I shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as I could stand it. I planned to allow the scalding water to wash away the filth I’d feel after throwing up in the shower. Undressing, I stepped into the water.
Piles of food poured out of me and into the pot I’d left on the ledge around the tub. I had stopped purging directly into the drain after I clogged up Marti’s shower the first week I’d been living with her. Marti hadn’t batted an eyelash and instead told me to keep containers in the bathroom to use for this purpose.
My throat was raw but I kept stabbing my finger against the back of my mouth. I didn’t stop until I saw the last of the macaroni and cheese plop into the pot. I settled the pot outside the tub and pressed my forehead against the shower wall. I felt worthless and soiled, my tears intermingling with the shower water.
Steam billowed in front of my face and I stood in a daze for a long minute. Suddenly, I felt the world tilt. My heart was racing, and my breath was coming out in frantic, short gasps. I reached for the shower faucet, but the movement left me feeling off-balance. Black spots distorted my vision and I tried to steady myself by blindly grasping for the towel bar. My fingers slipped over the plastic and my eyes closed on their own accord. I vanished into the darkness.
The memories were there, but they weren’t fully realized in my brain. I could vaguely recall shouting and cursing, a feminine and masculine voice arguing over the body they stumbled upon. There was a recollection of someone slapping my face as I tried to crawl out of my semiconscious state. Clothes were thrown on my soaking wet body, and I was dragged away by two sets of hands.
My dreams came in Technicolor, vivid and hard to distinguish from reality. In my nightmares, I was drowning, each breath sucking more water into my lungs. Hands were grasping for me from above, but I kept sinking, my weight dragging me down into nothingness.
The smell of antiseptic greeted me when I finally regained consciousness. My eyes were leaden as I attempted to open them. I blinked several times once I forced them apart and I was instantly disoriented over where I could be. Once my gaze connected with the IV inserted into my left arm, comprehension washed over me.
I realized I’d lost at least a day when I saw the sunlight streaming through the oversized windows of the hospital room. The hush in the room had led me to believe I was alone. I heard the sharp intake of my own breath when I saw my mother seated in the corner of the room.
The sound of my breathing caught her attention and she turned to me, remaining seated in the chair. She held my gaze and a thousand emotions clouded her face. She looked different; her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her face was free of makeup. Her eyes were swollen and she appeared on the verge of crying again. She was almost unrecognizable.
“You’re awake.” I could hear the relief in her tone, but I couldn’t quite believe it.
My mouth was dry, my lips chapped, but I managed to croak out, “I haven’t seen you cry since Dad died.”
“No matter what you think, you’re my daughter and I love you. It’s killing me to see you in this kind of pain.” Her fierce declaration didn’t make sense to me. The only times I had seen her that worked up was when I made a major faux pas, like wearing white after Labor Day.
I wanted to respond, but something sick and twisted inside my very being dragged my attention to the IV. I watched the liquid within the bag stream through the clear tubing, going directly to my veins. Panic took control of my mind and I demanded, “What’s in the IV? What are you letting them put in me?”
“Honey, you’re very sick,” she said, and she stood up and moved closer to me. “You’re malnourished and dehydrated. The doctors are giving you fluids and nutrients through the IV until we can talk about long-term options.” Her tone was soothing, but I couldn’t reconcile the woman who stood before me with my actual mother.
“Mom, you get how important it is to stay skinny. How many calories are in what they’re giving me? Don’t let the doctors make me fat again. Please make them stop, or I swear I’ll pull this thing out!”
“Oh Kayla,” she cried, “This is my fault. I’m so sorry for being a horrible mother. Your father would never forgive me if he saw you now …”
My heart fractured over the reminder of how I was disappointing my father. I dispelled his ghost and continued my begging. “Mom, I only have two pounds to lose! And then I’m done with my diet. I’ll have to work to maintain it, but it’ll be nothing like it is now. Please.”
“Kayla, what are you talking about? You were dumped at the ER by some couple that refused to give their names. The only thing they provided was your cell phone, and the nurses got my number from it. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past twelve hours. When I first came into the ER … God, the way you looked … I thought you were dead. You looked so lifeless.” My mother shuddered at the memory.
I could piece together a theory about what happened. Marti and a guy she probably brought home with her had found me in the bathroom. They must’ve driven me to the ER and left without a second thought once I was surrounded by doctors and nurses. I wasn’t surprised about the callousness of her actions; we’d both been using each other.
“But I feel fine now. I’m a little tired, but otherwise I’m as good as new. I don’t need the IV any longer.” My sentences came out in short breathless bursts. I found the call button on the side of my hospital bed and pressed it firmly.
“Yes?” a disembodied voice asked through the speakers.
“This is Kayla Marlowe and I need someone to come in here and take out my IV.” I made an attempt to sound authoritative. I considered yanking it out of my arm, but the idea left me squeamish.
“We’ll be right there,” the nurse replied and clicked off.
A minute later, a petite middle-aged nurse strode into the room. “How are you feeling? Is the IV hurting you?”
My mother interjected before she had a chance. “No, she’s afraid it’s making her fat. Is the doctor available?”
“Mom, I can speak for myself,” I said to her. “I want it out of me now! In fact, I’m not staying here another minute. I don’t need anybody’s help, I’m fine.”
“I’ll page the doctor,” the nurse answered coolly.
“I’m signing myself out of here, so you don’t have to bother.”
I heard a gasp at the doorway as the nurse scurried out of the room. My sister stood motionless, holding a vase of flowers in front of her. Her jaw dropped as she took in my appearance, and I suddenly became self-conscious about how I looked in the flimsy hospital gown.
Rushing over to me, Lila put the vase on the bedside table. “Kayla, they told me you’d wake up, but I had this awful feeling you wouldn’t and they were lying to me to keep me from getting hysterical.”
“I’m sorry I worried you. I had the water too hot in the shower and my blood pressure must’ve dropped. It was just a stupid fainting spell.” Judging by the way my mother and Lila exchanged glances, I realized my family no longer accepted my lies.
“Where have you been? If you hadn’t written me back, we were all a hundred percent serious about calling the police.” Lila’s tone was accusatory and I envisioned the hell I’d put my sister through.
“I was staying with a … friend.” I was reluctant to give Marti that distinction and stumbled over the word.
“When we got the call from the hospital, I thought it had happened again. I thought you were with Dad.” Lila burst into tears and my horror over the IV was forgotten. I motioned her forward and she crawled into my lap. I ran my hand up and down her back, attempting to soothe her.
My mother swallowed audibly. After she regained her composure, her voice was brisk and business-like. “Kayla, we’ve spoken to the doctor. You’re suffering from an eating disorder and need professional help. She’s making some calls to see what type of treatment options we have open to us.”
“Mom, I’m in college. It’s totally normal for girls to take extreme meas
ures to stay thin …”
“That’s not what this is, so save your tired excuses. I’m not saying I didn’t have a part in this, but I’m ready to take responsibility. Hell, maybe I need therapy, too. But you’re getting counseling, Kayla; this isn’t negotiable.”
“Mom, you’ve told me my whole life I needed to lose weight! I finally did it and now you want me to stop. Why? Are you jealous? Is it because you’re no longer the skinniest in the family?”
I was trying to get a rise out of her, but my vitriol only had the effect of making despair crawl into her expression. “You’re right; I have told you both you’re overweight. I’ve belittled you and made you feel ugly and probably unloved. I can’t excuse it, but your grandmother raised me to believe people valued beauty over anything else. As long as I was beautiful, the world was my oyster. She had me in beauty pageants before I was old enough to walk. She thrived on the attention as much as I did.
“I thought if I encouraged you both to look your best, maybe it would make life easier for you. But when I saw you in the ER, I realized … I knew I’d become my mother.” She wiped at her eyes with a crumpled tissue she’d been holding in her lap.
I couldn’t disagree with her. She’d been hell to live with. My grandmother lived in Georgia, and we only saw her twice a year for holidays. The times we were around her, she would ask us a few vague questions and then ignore us for the rest of the visit. There had always been an underlying tension between my mother and her I never understood.
“Mom, get me out of here and I’ll forget it all. I’ll forgive you for every single thing,” I offered, my voice thick with emotion. My mother’s silence confirmed my suspicion she was considering the offer.
“No!” Lila’s sharp tone startled us both.
I recoiled as she glared at me.
“You’re not worming your way out of dealing with your problems, Kayla. You were close to dying, and if you keep starving yourself, the next time the hospital calls us it could be to identify your body.”
The Disappearing Girl Page 17
