“Yeah, but some parents are a little more watchful. And since it’s just her and Amelia, I can understand being a little more vigilant than other parents,” Mom said.
“Well, she’s like that, only worse. She used to be a lot nicer. Now it’s like she doesn’t even try to be nice. I don’t know how Amelia takes it. She never complains, but I see it happening and how it affects her. And her mom is so mean to her. She’s been saying things about Amelia’s eating habits, monitoring each thing she put into her mouth. When Ames, Mel, and I went to the flea market the other day, her mom even watched what Mel and I ate. It was creepy how she kept track. And she said things to Ames that were almost cruel. Like how she’d split her cheerleading uniform if she had any more croutons on her salad. Things like that. It’s like her mother is judging her on how skinny she can be and how good of a cheerleader she is.”
“So, you think that Amelia is in the hospital because she has an eating disorder and that her mom is the cause of it?” asked Mom.
“Yeah, I do, Mom,” I said, hoping she’d believe me and take it seriously. I needed an adult to help me figure out what to do. It felt good being able to talk to her.
“I actually wanted to say something to you about it when she was here the other night for dinner. She barely ate and she’s so thin.” I was so relieved that she understood.
“Mom, I hardly even noticed it.” It hurt to admit that I’d been watching my best friend who was now my girlfriend waste away before my eyes. I couldn’t believe it took Mel pointing it out for me to see it. “It’s been under my nose all this time, and I didn’t think anything of it. Kids are always worried about their weight. I just thought she was exercising a lot and being like the other girls on the squad.”
“Well, there is definitely a problem. I can try to talk to Deirdre to see if I can figure this out. I have a lot of experience with working with eating disorders from the work I do at the Children’s Hospital.” I always forgot about all the volunteer work my mom did as a nurse. She was pretty awesome like that. “More than anything, it sounds like your friend needs you.”
“I think she does too. I feel so useless sitting here. Her mom kicked us out earlier.” I explained what had happened at the hospital.
“That doesn’t sound like the Deirdre I’ve met,” said my mom. “I wonder if the stress of Amelia’s sickness is making her act strangely.”
“I don’t know, Mom. Like I said, I think she’s actually causing it,” I said.
“Well, I think it’s important that you give Amelia as much support as she needs to deal with this. When I spoke with Deirdre earlier, she told me she’d gone home for the night while Amelia slept, so you can go to the hospital and see Amelia without worrying about bumping into her mother if you want to. Maybe you can convince Amelia to speak to a counselor. They have some at the hospital. Maybe they can help her to see that she’s got a problem.”
My heart raced to think of seeing Amelia again. I needed to make sure she was okay. I really only wanted to sit with her, to see her breathing. I felt like I could make her better simply with my will to make it so. Like, just holding her hand would transfer the healing energy she needed to get better from me to her. And Mom was right. Maybe I could talk to a nurse and get them to arrange for a counselor.
Then I remembered the sign I had seen earlier near the elevators saying visiting hours were until 8:00 p.m. It was almost 9:00 already. My heart sank.
“I think it’s after hours.”
My mother took my hand and squeezed it. “I know for a fact that nurses don’t enforce visiting hours when the visitors are quiet and we know it’ll make the patient feel better.”
Sometimes it was nice that my mom was a nurse.
I got excited again, and I got up to look for my jean jacket. I found it in a pile of clothes at the foot of my bed. “Then I’m going down there,” I said, pulling it on and grabbing a scarf and wrapping it around my neck before heading toward the door.
“Not until you’ve eaten something, young lady,” she said, using her mom voice.
I turned back to her with my hand on the doorknob of my bedroom door. She was serious. I was still hungry. Obediently, I sat down at my desk and started to eat the chicken dinner she’d brought up to me. My mom didn’t move from her seat on the side of my bed.
“Hey, Ray-Ray? Do you mind if I tell you something that may or may not make you feel uncomfortable?” she asked. She sounded tentative, which was a change from minutes ago.
“Like what?” I asked. My mind was still on Ames in the hospital, but the chicken was so good, I was stuffing my face with it.
“Well, first of all, I want to tell you that I like your new friend Mel. Your dad and I both like her. She seems sweet, and we love having her around lately. She seems to make you happy,” said my mom. “I love her charming Texas drawl.”
“Yeah, her accent is cool. I like her a lot,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile at the comment about her accent because I really loved it too. But small alarms were going off in my head. I was waiting for the “but” that I knew was coming.
“But….” There it was. “I get a certain feeling from her, and well… I think she may be a lesbian and—”
I started to choke on the bite of chicken I’d been chewing.
“Are you okay, honey?” asked my mom, getting up and patting me on the back. I could see she was trying to evaluate whether she needed to do the Heimlich maneuver on me. I took a drink of water and she relaxed. “You should chew your food better. But I’m sorry that was a shock to you. I should have anticipated it.”
“Um, well, I—” I started to speak, not knowing what I’d say.
“Yes, well, I think your friend Mel is a lesbian, and I’m also fairly certain that she has a serious crush on either you or Amelia. I haven’t been able to figure out who she has the crush on. Maybe it’s both of you.”
I couldn’t tell if my mom was upset. She didn’t sound upset. But then, why was she saying anything at all? She’d just told me she liked Mel. I was confused.
“Mom, why are you telling me this?” I asked. My chicken was forgotten by this point.
“Well, honey, I wanted to tell you this because I do like her. She seems like a nice girl. You can always tell a person has a kind heart by the way they treat animals and children. And she’s so patient with your brothers. They can be somewhat irritating sometimes. And I seem to have a soft spot for her, knowing that she lost her mother.” My mother looked so flustered and sweet at the same time. She was rambling, and I’d never seen her so nervous. I wanted to hug her, but I was starting to feel flustered too. “I don’t know her dad at all, and there is a possibility that if she has a crush on either you or Amelia, she may be having a hard time with this. I see how upset you are, and all I’m trying to say is that I want you to tell me if you think she needs someone to talk to. If she were my daughter, I’d want to help her figure things out. To tell her things will be okay. It’s so hard for kids your age. And if she’s dealing with being gay on top of all of that, well, I just want her to know that she has someone to talk to. That’s all.”
I couldn’t help it, I started crying.
“Oh, Raine? Honey? What’s the matter?” she said, coming to me, wrapping me in her arms. I couldn’t answer. All the feelings I’d been having, all the different chaotic emotions that had been swirling inside of me from all that had been going on, plus all the worry about Amelia, now this weird relief/terror I was feeling with my mom. It not only sounded like she was okay with someone being gay, but that she would be supportive if that someone was her own daughter. It was all too much. I couldn’t talk now even if I wanted to. Thankfully, my mother assumed my tears were about Amelia, and in a way, they were.
She stroked my hair and held me tight. “Oh, Raine. I think you need to go down to see Amelia.”
TEN MINUTES later I pulled into the hospital parking lot. The conversation with my mom was tumbling through my head as I headed into the building and over to the elevators. I’d d
ecided I was going to tell my mom about what was going on. The support she’d offered to Mel gave me the courage to tell her about me. I was still scared. The concern I’d had about how she would react to me being a lesbian had switched to concern about how she’d feel about me having two girlfriends. I wasn’t sure how that part would go over, but I needed to tell her. It was still hard for me to wrap my head around it, but it felt so right.
My thoughts settled when I stepped off the elevator onto the quiet of the third floor. Apprehension filled my chest. I stopped thinking about my fears and wondered if Amelia’s mom had come back and was now there in the room. What would I do then? I approached the room quietly, ready to leave if I saw Amelia’s mom there. The door was open, but the curtain partition was drawn so I couldn’t see the bed from the doorway. The lights in the room were off, and I wondered if Amelia was asleep. I was about to sneak around the curtain when I heard a lowered voice.
“You know I understand, right?” It was Mel’s voice. She sounded so earnest.
“No one really understands,” replied Amelia. Her voice was tinged with tiredness, and she sounded so resigned.
Mel sighed.
“You’re right. I don’t understand what’s in your mind. But I do understand what you’re facing. And it’s serious, Ames. You need to get some help with this.”
“I don’t need help,” Amelia responded, sounding slightly angry beyond the tired.
“Oh, Ames. You do need help. Can’t you see how it’s affecting your health? This is what happened to Jessica. I’ve seen it before.” I pictured Mel pleading with Ames, and it broke my heart.
“Who’s Jessica? Do I know Jessica?” asked Ames. Her voice was so weak.
“No. Jessica was a good friend of mine in Texas. She had… she had a problem similar to yours.”
“I don’t have a problem, Mel. I hit my head. I’ll be better soon.”
“Ames.” Mel’s voice cracked, and I heard her clear her throat. “Ames, you have an eating disorder. Your weight is unhealthy. Your body isn’t getting enough nutrients.”
“It’s just a pound or two. I can lose them,” said Ames, misunderstanding Mel’s words. I felt my breath catch in my throat. She thought Mel was calling her fat.
“No, no, no!” Mel said. Even as she kept her voice low, she sounded frantic. Her voice broke. “You don’t need to lose any more weight.”
But it sounded like Ames wasn’t listening.
“It’s so hard to take off these last two pounds.”
I stepped around the curtain and, in the dim light of the room, I saw Mel sitting in a chair beside Ames’s bed. Mel was holding Ames’s hand, and they were both crying.
Ames was so frail and small in her bed. In the low light, she looked pale, almost ethereal, like she could melt away at any second. A mental image of the charcoal drawing I had done earlier flashed through my head. Was she going to die? My heart felt like it was going to rip in half.
Ames saw me first and smiled. “Ray-Ray! You’re both here. This is so amazing. You guys make me feel so much better.” Ames put her hand out to me, and I went to her. There wasn’t anything in the world that could’ve kept me from her in that instant.
Mel lifted her head and must’ve spotted me. Relief and pleading filled her eyes.
I grabbed Amelia’s hand. It was so small in mine. I’d never noticed how small she was compared to me.
“Hi, Ames,” I said. “How are you doing?”
“Much better now that you’re both here,” she repeated. How was it possible that she looked like she had lost about ten pounds in only a day?
I dropped her hand gently and walked around to the other side of the bed so I could sit on the arm of the chair Mel was sitting in. I stroked Amelia’s hair and she closed her eyes and nestled her head into the cup of my hand while she held Mel’s hand in both of hers. Mel wrapped her free arm around my waist. It felt so good to be there with the two people I loved, but there was an edge of fear looming among us.
“Ames?” I whispered.
“Hmmm?” she asked with her eyes still closed.
“We have a problem,” I said quietly, and I caressed her cheek.
“We’ll be okay,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine soon. Now that you and Mel are here. I just need to rest.”
“No, Ames,” I said, a little more forcefully. She opened her eyes and looked at me. I lowered the hand that had been touching her face and rested it on her shoulder. My fingertips rested on the bare skin where the neck of her hospital gown ended. I needed the physical connection with her, to feel the warmth of her skin. “We need to deal with this. I’ll help you.” I looked at Mel and back at Ames. “We’ll help you. As much as we can. But you need to face reality. If you won’t do it for you, please do it for us. We love you.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Her voice shook.
“I think you do. I mean, look at you, Ames.”
“You think I’m ugly.” She began to cry.
“No!” It was almost a shout. I lowered my voice. “No, Ames. You are the most beautiful person I know. Inside and out.”
“She’s telling the truth, Ames,” Mel said, sitting forward. In the light that shone under the curtain and from the various light emitted from the equipment in the room I saw her cheeks streaked with tears. I realized my cheeks were also wet from my own tears. I rubbed my face on the shoulders of my shirt. “You are beautiful. You don’t need to change a thing about yourself. But you do need to get up to a healthy weight. Your body needs nourishment.”
“I think you might misunderstand. I hit my head. You’ve seen me eat. I eat,” insisted Ames. She looked a little mad, and I didn’t want her mad at us. I tried another approach.
“You’re right. I have seen you eat. And that’s good. Maybe it’s the mix of nutrients you’re getting. How about we have a nutritionist or someone talk to you about that. Would that be cool?”
“I don’t know….” She let the words trail away. She looked like she was thinking about it. That was a good sign.
Mel was nodding her head.
“Yeah. I think that might be good, Ames. You know, just to check in?” Mel suggested.
Ames looked at me and then at Mel as if she were considering it.
“Maybe I need a better vitamin,” she said.
“Yeah, or a different mix of food,” offered Mel.
“A counselor or nutritionist could figure that out,” I added. I was doing my best to think of how Mom would phrase things when she was trying to get me to do something I didn’t want to do. Ames was more fragile than I wanted to think about, and it wasn’t just physical. She was on the verge of cracking mentally too. I didn’t want to push her over the edge. I wanted to pull her back from it.
“That might help me get my energy back,” Ames reasoned.
“So, we’ll let the nurse know you want to talk to someone about that, then,” I said. “Does that sound cool?”
“I suppose I can talk to them about it,” agreed Ames. All of a sudden, I felt hope we might be able to get Ames to see what she was doing to herself. If a professional could get through to her, maybe we’d be able to fix things. I hoped, whatever happened, Ames’s mother didn’t try to get in the way of Ames getting the help she needed. Surely she couldn’t be so focused on Amelia being a cheerleader that she wouldn’t listen to logic and keep pushing her down the path of destruction she was currently walking.
Chapter Seventeen
Amelia
A WOMAN wearing a bright pink scarf brought me my first real meal since I’d been admitted to the hospital. She sat the tray down on the little rolling table that went across my lap and then she offered me her hand. “Amelia, I’m Dr. Morrison. You can call me Sarah if you want to. I’m a psychiatrist who works in this hospital with people who might have trouble with their relationship to food. I’d like to talk to you for a little while today if that’s okay. You can eat while we chat if you want to.”
I wasn’t sure why she was in my room
or why she would want to talk to me about my relationship with food, as if people could even have relationships with inanimate objects like food at all. I didn’t want to be rude, though, so I shrugged and she took a seat in the squeaky plastic chair beside me. Lunch was a pudding cup, a grilled cheese sandwich, a carton of whole milk, and some cut-up cantaloupe. I went for the fruit. It had a lot of sugar in it, but the calories wouldn’t be as bad as anything else on the tray.
“How would you describe your relationship with food?” Sarah asked.
I shrugged. “It’s food. I mean, you can’t really have a relationship with it. You just eat it.” I had a tiny piece of cantaloupe and felt much better with that first bite than I had all night since I hadn’t been given anything besides water and ice chips. A nurse had brought me some apple juice too, but the sugar and calories in apple juice meant I didn’t touch it at all.
Sarah smiled. “That’s true. Food isn’t often like a person or a pet to someone, but sometimes it can be. Some people get enjoyment out of the food they eat and others don’t. For some it’s just a chore they need to go through in order to be strong. How do you think about food?”
I stopped eating the fruit. I didn’t think anything about food. At least I wanted to say that. But it wasn’t the truth. Not really anyway. “I….” I pushed the lunch away, but she brought it right back in front of me.
“Eat, Amelia, if you’re able to. Nothing bad will happen if you don’t, but I’d like you to try to eat a little if you can.”
I stared at her and sighed. “I don’t hate food.” I didn’t. I hated what it did to me. What the calories did. I hated feeling miserable, and I hated knowing I was fat and seeing the weight on me like a giant ugly beacon pointed right at me.
“What do you think your ideal meal would be?” Sarah continued.
I shrugged. “One that didn’t have any calories and still left me feeling full.” I’d been joking, sort of, but I caught her look. She seemed upset, but also like she maybe got what I was saying. But didn’t everyone say things like that? I’d seen the memes. It was a fantasy to eat and not get fat. That was one of life’s big dreams.
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