She hit her brakes hard at the entrance to the old church that gave the road its name, and swerved right into the parking lot. Then she made a big loop around the empty lot until she faced the way she’d come. A quarter mile away, Calvin’s house was almost invisible in the dark. Only a dark shadow with a few rectangles of warm light in the midst.
Breathe. Breathe. Figure it out. She was sitting like a stalker looking at her boyfriend’s house. How sad. What a sorry wreck she was. She should’ve just called him. She could still do it.
Stacey pulled her phone from her purse and dialed Calvin’s number. Peyton answered and yelled for him to come to the phone. Stacey wiped a fresh flood of tears from her face, waiting for his voice to come through her cell.
“It’s Stacey,” Peyton yelled.
Then nothing. The pause was too long. Any instant now she’d hear a loud click as he hung up on her.
“Hey.” His deep voice and the single monotone syllable sent a shockwave through her.
What could she say? She’d left her sanity at home. “Hi.”
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I need you to understand. The words wouldn’t come to her lips. Say something! “Are you okay?”
He hummed.
“Calvin?”
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry. I should have given you a ride home.”
A hiss on the line was his deep intake of breath. “I don’t think that’s what’s really important right now.”
Stacey pressed her hand over her eyes, leaning her elbow against the steering wheel for support. “Well … I know. But. We need to talk.”
“You basically told me to go away. I’ve been thinking we broke up or something.”
“I’m trying to keep us from breaking up. Calvin—” A sob broke through. “I love you! I-I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything right this afternoon. I was upset and I got it all wrong. I’m just trying to get you to understand.”
“Understand what? That your uncle is a pervert who deserves to be strangled? I get that. What I don’t get is how I’m supposed to stand around and let you starve yourself.”
“I’m not … I’m not …”
The world darkened. Pressure built in her head, like she’d been dunked underwater and every cell in her brain screamed for oxygen.
“I can’t do that, Stace. I can’t watch you kill yourself to be skinny. Besides, you’re not fat. Since I’ve known you, you’ve never been fat. I loved the way you looked when I met you, and I love you now.”
“Calvin …” She sobbed again, but choked out more words. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Please. I can’t lose you.”
His breath whispered through the phone. “I’m not going anywhere,” he finally said, his voice strained. “I just don’t know what to do.”
His inflection yanked another sob out of her. So what could they do? Compromise? Stacey stroked her thumb and forefinger along her eyebrows, rubbing away an assault of vertigo.
Calvin would never understand. He’d make himself an expert in anorexia, and then one day, despite any promises they made tonight, he’d throw all that information at her again and they’d argue. Maybe even worse than today. How could she live with that inevitability looming all the time?
Stacey shifted the phone to her other ear. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Too fast, too easy. Did he mean it or just say it automatically after her?
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“Eat like a normal person. I mean, people go on diets and lose weight all the time, but they still eat. You can do that. You don’t need to … stuff your face and turn into a chunky bunny.”
She winced. He’d thrown back the words she’d used against him that afternoon. Obviously, he wasn’t done being angry.
“I do eat.” She caught her breath and forced her bitterness down. “Please … Do we have to go through this again? I know it looks bad. Passing out and stuff. But I promise there’s a good explanation for it.”
“Maybe you just need a doctor to give you a diet that’s safe. You know, because of that heart problem you had when you were little.”
Now she wished she hadn’t told him about her surgeries. He’d use that against her too. She could see him already fussing over her, playing the hero in her life. Bossing her around like her parents. The silent scream inside her rose up again, grabbed her by the windpipe, and sent a cold tremor down the rest of her body. “Calvin, I had surgery to fix those problems. Forget about that. I’m fine.”
His groan sounded distant, like he’d moved the phone away from his face so she wouldn’t hear it. “You keep saying that. You’re fine.”
“I am!”
Except for right this moment. Was the temperature dropping outside?
In the distance, the farmhouse looked almost creepy. Somewhere inside Calvin paced the floor, tugged his hair, and devised ways to get her to confess everything he thought she was doing. The battle she waged wasn’t over the phone. It was inside Calvin’s head. She had to convince him. Their relationship was at stake. Because she couldn’t live with his suspicions, and today’s confession had failed.
Start with a promise. Buy some time. She’d try harder and make it work.
“Calvin, I promise, if I get sick again I’ll have my mom take me to the doctor.”
“Okay.” His tone went up with the last syllable, making it a question.
“And if I don’t pass out or anything, you have to promise you’ll trust me. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Sure. If you’re healthy, then I don’t have anything to worry about.”
“So we’re agreed?”
He sighed, took too long to answer, but finally said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the steering wheel.
How could she keep herself from getting dizzy again? Stacey didn’t even know what had caused it the first time. Vitamin deficiency? Maybe she should swallow some of those pills. She’d have to do some research of her own to figure it out.
“It’ll be okay, Calvin. Really. I promise.”
“‘Kay.”
“Want me to pick you up in the morning?”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
“I’m really sorry. I treated you horribly, and I know you’re just concerned for my health. I was just so—I don’t know … That note. It was …”
“Yeah … I’m sorry about that. It was stupid. I’m not like you. I’m, like …” He paused for a second. “Ah ain’t too good with wrahtin’, y’know whut ah mean?”
She giggled at his comedically thickened drawl. A tiny shaft of warmth seeped through her, easing the chaos a little. “Promise me something else?”
“What?”
“You’ll never talk about breaking up again.”
“Ever? That mean we gon’ git hee-itched?”
She imagined his sweet lips widening, creasing his cherubic cheeks. That smile could rival the angelic expression in any Renaissance painting.
“Ma-a-ay-be,” she cooed.
“Oh, Lord, save me.”
“Hey!”
“I’m joking.”
At the sound of Calvin’s soft chuckle, Stacey gazed at the house. In a few seconds, she could be there. She could hold him, press her ear against his broad chest and hear his heartbeat, feel his strong arms around her. Maybe he’d agree to go for a drive with her. In some quiet corner of the county, they could be together for a little while—
Headlights dimmed her view of the house. A car slid past, a light rack on top, Stiles County Police painted on the side. Stacey’s desire choked. Had Daddy summoned his friends at the police department to look for her?
“Still there?” Calvin asked.
“Um, yeah. Calvin, I have to go. M-my father is calling me.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”
She twisted in her seat to watch the taillights of the squad car diminish in the dis
tance then disappear around a curve in the road.
“Stace?”
“I’m here. Yes, tomorrow morning. I love you, Calvin.”
“Love you too. G’night.”
She hung up and stared at the dark road behind her. If Daddy had sent the police after her, they would have recognized her car sitting alone in the church parking lot. Just coincidence that they’d passed by.
Stacey sat up straight and drew several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Would she ever be free of Daddy’s controlling rules? Sometimes the urge to leave was so strong. Take the car, drive to California or New York, get a job with a fashion designer fetching coffee or whatever they’d let her do. Start a real life. Maybe Calvin would go with her.
A light clicked on in the dormer windows of his house. His attic bedroom. She’d never been up there; it wasn’t allowed. More rules. A shadow passed over one window. She imagined him there, sitting on his bed, kicking off his shoes, opening a book. Oh, how sweet it would be to snuggle in his arms as they studied together. Even if they could just sit on the porch …
In fifteen seconds, she could be there.
Blue lights flashed in Stacey’s rearview mirror. Gasping, she jumped in her seat and grabbed the steering wheel. Her car was still running. Her right hand leapt to the gearshift lever, pulled on it.
Stacey closed her eyes. She could never outrun a cop cruiser in her little Honda.
She put the car in park again. Her heart thudding in her throat, she lowered her window. A man in a khaki uniform filled her view. “Did my daddy send you? I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Driver’s license, miss.”
She fished it out of her purse and handed it over.
“Varnell?” he said. “You’re Officer Varnell’s daughter?”
Like he didn’t already know.
“You can call my father and tell him I’m on my way home.”
“Miss Varnell, may I ask why you’re sitting here in the church lot?”
“Just thinking about some stuff.”
Would those blue lights flash against Calvin’s window? If he looked out, would he recognize her car? Stalker Stacey. Her heart froze at the thought. She had to get out of there.
The cop leaned down to look at her, practically sticking his face in her window. What? Sniffing for drugs or something? Was he going to haul her out and frisk her? Search her car? Call in a K–9 unit? Teach her a lesson for defying Daddy?
“You all alone in there?”
“Yes. I had a fight with my boyfriend today. I’m … I’m just upset.” She pressed the heel of one hand against her forehead. It’d be nice if she could raise some more tears.
His hand came through the window, her license between the fingers. “Think you’d better head on home, Miss Varnell.”
She blinked and grabbed her license back. “You’re letting me go?”
“Any reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Uh—no. No reason. Are you going to call my father?”
“I’m giving you a break because you’re Stan Varnell’s daughter. I suggest you take advantage of it.”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll go home. Right now.”
Stacey put her car in gear and rolled slowly to the entrance of the parking lot. The blue lights stopped flashing, but the squad car followed her. There’d be talk in the station house tomorrow, for sure.
As she drove past Calvin’s house, she rolled her eyes toward the dormer windows. No silhouette darkened the rectangles of soft light.
What was he doing up there?
Her heart fluttered. If there wasn’t a police car just behind her, she could stop, get Calvin, run away with him. Leave this nightmare behind.
Chapter 15
Calvin paced the floor between his bed and Michael’s. Angry, ugly words assaulted the synapses in his brain and breached his will until they spilled out of his mouth. He punched the air with each phrase. “Freakin’ idiot. Moron. She did it to me again.”
He’d caved. Apologized for everything and let Stacey off. Because her crying had ripped him apart. Tyler was right; Stacey ruled him.
Calvin buried both hands in his hair and pulled. “Argh! I’m such a wuss!”
But what options did he have? If he fought with her, they’d only break up and he wouldn’t be able to stop her from becoming one of those skeleton girls he’d seen online.
He slid down onto the floor and put his head between his knees.
According to Flannery, he was supposed to be nice and loving to Stacey. Too bad it felt false, like he was manipulating her until he could figure out how to get her to see a doctor.
What was a guy supposed to do when someone he cared about was anorexic? According to what he’d read, anorexia nervosa was like an obsessive-compulsive disorder. People who had it convinced themselves they were fat even if everyone else saw them as skinny. He’d watched a video showing a chubby girl looking into a mirror, then the camera panned back and showed her as she really was, with bones sticking out everywhere.
Calvin pulled his hair until scalp pain drove the image away.
He had to stop this thing, this disorder. Before he had to see Stacey as a skeleton girl.
But he had to go carefully, so he wouldn’t drive her away. He had to stick with her, while at the same time making sure she didn’t distract him from what he needed to do.
“How much am I supposed to take?” he said to his knees. “This is crazy.”
Other guys would walk away. What was wrong with wanting a normal girlfriend?
He sniffed and raised his head. Across from him, Michael’s bed was neatly made up with pillows and a comforter topped by his red, black, and white NC State fleece throw. All arranged as if nothing had happened. Like Michael would come walking up the stairs at any moment, snatch a foam football off a shelf, and launch it at Calvin’s face. “Think fast, lump!”
Calvin drew in a sharp breath at the memory of Michael’s favorite nickname for him. Yeah, like Stacey was the only one who’d ever been called a name because of her weight. Thing was, Michael never meant it to hurt. What Calvin wouldn’t give now just to hear that teasing name again, to throw something back at his brother, to wrestle on and between the beds until Mom came upstairs to tell them they were keeping the little kids awake with their racket.
But Michael’s bed was empty, and the silence in the room echoed in Calvin’s heart.
He turned his eyes to the ceiling, where a thousand times he’d directed questions asking God why his brother had to die. He’d figured out the only answer anyone could have: Michael was dead because guys died in wars. That was it. Nothing profound. All the causes and slogans and reasons didn’t change the simple fact that Michael had left home to fight for something he believed in, and he died because someone else in a dusty desert country had buried a bomb along the road.
Leaving a gaping hole in Calvin’s world.
He couldn’t lose Stacey, couldn’t make that hole even bigger.
Calvin’s hands fisted painfully against the floor. His throat closed up just as tightly.
And that man, that uncle of hers. Names filtered through Calvin’s brain that a good Christian boy should never utter. He had to think God would forgive him for it. Maybe. The guy deserved to be in jail. But if he never touched Stacey, how could what he said affect her so much that she would just stop eating?
Too many questions. He’d go crazy trying to figure everything out. Still, there had to be something online that would tell him how he was supposed to watch her body dwindle away day by day without going crazy himself.
Calvin lurched to his feet, pulling his own comforter halfway onto the floor. He left it there and padded softly down the stairs and past the rooms where his brothers and baby sister were sleeping, past the door with light seeping through the crack where Lizzie—and hopefully Peyton—would be reading or polishing their nails or whatever girls did before bed. He slipped past the living room where his father was watching television, and into the dinin
g room, where the computer waited for him, still on, the screen saver shifting pictures. Calvin claimed the chair, and his fingers flew over the keyboard, typing words into the search engine: my girlfriend is anorexic. He banged the enter key.
Calvin scanned the websites his search had found. Lots of message boards with guys in his exact predicament, all looking for the same answers. He clicked on the first promising link and squinted at small print against a pale blue background. At least this time anyone snooping around would think he was studying.
He read questions and answers on website after website. All voicing the same worries he had, the same questions he had, and the same answers he’d feared. “My girlfriend is anorexic. What should I do?” was answered with “You can’t fix her” and “This is going to be hard” and “Don’t argue with her, it’ll only make things worse.”
Were these people real? The concerns of guys Calvin would never meet swallowed his sense of himself. He was floating, living their thoughts and fears, sucked up by the same questions. Yet there were no faces or names. Each person told Calvin’s story over and over, with slight variations that warned him of what was to come.
The only definitive thing he learned was that things would only get worse.
The behavior, the symptoms, the damage. Anorexia was a “relationship killer,” one person said. And a problem far beyond counting calories; it was not really about losing weight, but about being in control. Seeing something completely different in the mirror and hating the way it looked, even if other people said it was beautiful. It all meant that Stacey was at the beginning of a terrible ride that could ruin her, even kill her. And Calvin was buckled in beside her. If he chose to stay.
“She needs counseling,” was the only answer that made sense.
How was he supposed to get her to go to counseling? She didn’t even realize she had a problem!
He cussed, and that single spoken word broke the illusion, brought him back to the reality that he was sitting in a chair inside a farmhouse in North Carolina. Air infused with the warm scent of the roast beef they’d had for supper filled his lungs. Dark paneling and cross-stitched decorations surrounded him. The television mumbled in the background. Calvin blinked and sniffed, found tears on his face.
Running Lean Page 14