The liquid rage flares up so suddenly that it takes me by surprise. “Doesn’t it strike you as weird that all these people are making such a fuss about Ryan, when he chose to put himself in the road like that? If he’d lived, can you imagine how many jobs Grandpa would tell him to get to pay off the medical bills?”
Mom scowls. “That’s terrible, Colby! How can you come up with such hateful ideas?”
I cross my arms tightly over my chest, glare out the window, and seethe. “Gee, Mom, I have no idea. I guess I got that from Dad, too.”
Thirty minutes later, Mom pulls sharply into a parking lot and stops so hard that my seat belt chokes me. She hasn’t spoken a word since she accused me of being a hateful person, but it’s obvious that she’s super pissed. She throws the car into Park and yanks her keys from the ignition. “Piney Creek doesn’t offer any free mental health counseling, so I’ve had to borrow money from Leah to pay for this. I hope it works.” She gets out and speeds toward the small red brick building that looks kind of like a house. I open my door and gaze up at the gigantic pine tree in the center of the yard.
It smells like sugar cookies when I push open the front door. I glance around, but I don’t see any cookies for the taking. Mom’s standing with her back to me, talking to some man behind a long counter. She tosses her hair and gives a little laugh. Bitch Mom may have driven us here, but Beauty Queen Mom has taken over now, charming as ever.
The place looks like somebody’s living room. There’s a fireplace, matching red and white checked sofa and love seat, and a little kid’s table and stools painted black and white to look like a dairy cow. I wander over to a bulletin board and study some faded cartoon strips. There’s a notice for a parenting class called “The Teenage Brain,” and a list of signs that a kid is depressed. I scan but don’t really read it.
Somebody laughs, and I turn to see a lady with a girl about my age on the love seat. They’re passing a smartphone back and forth and smiling. The phone makes a sad trombone sound and the lady exclaims, “You beat me again, Ashley! Think we have time to play again before your dad gets here to pick us up?”
The girl nods. “Let’s try, Bev.”
I watch them. Why can’t my mom and I do stuff like that? Oh, wait: that girl’s normal-size. I’ll bet if the girl was a big fat disaster, Bev wouldn’t want a thing to do with her. The girl catches me staring and gives me a quizzical look.
Mom calls, “Colby, have a seat.” I join her on the sofa. She’s got a clipboard with several pages to fill out. I plop down next to her and try to spy what she’s writing, but she turns away to keep me from seeing. Finally, she turns the clipboard face-down. “Just…um, there’s some magazines over there; go pick one and read it. The doctor said he’ll be with us in a little while.”
“Thought you wanted me to sit next to you,” I snap.
“No, I just wanted you to sit somewhere.” Mom gives me a warning look. “You’d better fix that attitude, young lady. I’m doing this to try to help you.”
I return her laser-like stare. “You mean like I helped Ryan? That worked out well, didn’t it?”
“Colby Diane Denton, you are out of contr—”
“Mrs. Denton? Would you and Colby like to come back now?” The same guy Mom was talking to before stands in the doorway beside the long counter. He’s about my dad’s height but not as stocky, and he’s wearing a navy blue T-shirt, black jeans, and cowboy boots. He looks more like he should be on a tractor mowing a field than shrinking people’s minds.
“I’m not quite finished with the paperwork,” Mom says in her honey-sweet voice.
“That’s okay; you’ll have time to complete it while I talk to Colby.” He smiles and holds the door open for us, waiting.
“If you say so.” Mom picks up her purse, and I follow her to the doorway. My heart is pounding in my ears; I dread having to listen to Mom tell a perfect stranger what a complete clusterfuck I am.
My head’s down, and I nearly miss it when he holds out his hand to me.
“Hi, Colby. I’m Dr. Matthews. But you can call me Dr. Matt if you want.”
We follow him down a short hallway and into a small office. It’s lined with bookcases, and there are kids’ toys on the floor in front of a wall of windows with closed blinds. His desk is against the same wall as the door, and there’s a chair next to his desk, a rocker in the middle of the room, and a small love seat opposite his desk. Mom takes the rocker. I take the love seat. He settles into his desk chair and pivots it so that he’s facing both of us.
“What brings you in today?” He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs. I grab a throw pillow and hold it over my stomach. It doesn’t even begin to cover all of me, but at least I don’t have to look down and see that part of myself.
“First of all, thank you for getting us in so quickly. It’s our good luck that you had a cancellation.” Mom smiles and tilts her head at him. I swear it looks like she’s posing for a picture.
“How can I help?” Dr. Matthews asks. He glances at me, then back at Mom.
“Well, it’s like I told you on the phone; I caught Colby covered head-to-toe in cake icing yesterday. She’d locked herself in the bathroom of my sister-in-law’s bakery. About a week ago, I caught her with a bag of sugar cookies that she stole from the bakery. She’d eaten them all. A. Gallon. Sized. Bag.” Mom pauses for effect, then continues. “But yesterday, eating the cake icing in the bathroom? That’s just gross, don’t you think?”
Dr. Matthews’s only response is a stony gaze.
Mom rushes to fill the silence. “I mean, look at her: You can tell that she’s not missing any meals.” She punctuates her sentence with a nervous laugh.
Still nothing.
Mom sits up straight, smoothes her blouse over her tummy, flicks her hair back over her shoulder, and seems to be waiting for him to agree that I’m a big fat pig, but instead he slowly turns back to his desk for a bottle of water, untwists the lid, takes a drink, twists the lid, and just as slowly places it back on his desk. It reminds me of how everything seemed to be in slow motion after I blabbed about Dad’s kissing photo, but this time it’s for real.
I study my fingernails. I scrubbed and scrubbed my skin and nails last night, trying to make the redness go away, but I can still see the icing stains. I close my eyes and visualize the shiny steel grill of that semi-truck heading straight for me. Boy, do I wish Ryan had stayed out of it.
Mom’s shrill voice interrupts my nail-gazing. “So, Colby? What do you have to say for yourself?”
I readjust the pillow on my lap and stare at a loose thread.
“How’d you break your arm?” Dr. Matt’s voice is soft. I glance at him to make sure he’s talking to me—well, of course he is; I’m the only one in the room with a cast—and he raises his eyebrows and gives a little nod.
I start to answer, “I—was—” but Mom cuts me off.
She babbles, “Her cousin Ryan was trying to kill himself by standing at the top of a hill where there’s a blind spot for drivers, and Colby ran into the road and attempted to knock him to safety, but she slipped on some gravel and broke her arm, and Ryan was hit by the truck and died. But she tried to save him. I wish she’d push away from the table the way she tried to push him!” More nervous laughter.
Dr. Matthews doesn’t even acknowledge that he heard her. Instead, he prompts, “Colby, you were saying that you were…?”
“I just told you.” Mom is obviously irritated.
He leans forward a little in his chair. “I’d like to hear it from Colby, without interruption, please.” He sits back and gives me a gentle smile. “You were saying?”
“Oh, um, it’s—it was just like Mom said.”
He nods and seems to choose his words carefully. “Why…did Ryan want to kill himself?”
“Are you asking me this time, or her?” Mom asks.
“Either one is fine.”
Mom glances at me. “Do you want to tell about the video he made?”
&
nbsp; I shake my head slowly and reach for the other pillow. I lay it flat atop my chest. I wish I had a couple more pillows; I’d line them up to the top of my head.
“Ryan made a video of Colby getting dressed. He stood outside her window and filmed her. She was stomping around her room trying to squeeze into these pants that were at least two sizes too small. I tell you, Dr. Matthews, Colby has really piled on the pounds in the last six months! So, Ryan claimed that his phone—the one he made the video on—was stolen, and that someone else created a Facebook page and uploaded the video, but I guess we’ll never know now. Anyway, he said he felt like killing himself because of the video being uploaded and having, oh, gosh, I think it had over two hundred shares by the time the page was taken down.” Mom turns to me. “Colby, what was it? Two hundred shares of that video? At least?”
Just thinking about it makes me feel like throwing up. I move the chest pillow up and cover my face.
Dr. Matthews’s voice is soft. “Colby, can you look at me?”
I lower the pillow just enough to reveal my eyes.
He asks, “How did you deal with that? Having your privacy invaded and the video seen by others…That seems like that would be devastating.”
“Mom said it was all my fault,” I whisper into the pillow.
He tilts his head. “I…couldn’t quite hear you, honey. Could you say it again, please?”
I cut my eyes to Mom. She’s watching me with that look in her eyes, the one that says, “Careful what you say, Colby…Don’t embarrass me…We’re not dogs, Colby. We don’t reward ourselves with food…People can’t even tell that she’s mine, and to tell you the truth, sometimes I prefer it that way.”
I lower the pillow back to my chest. My voice is flat. “According to my mom, Ryan never would have made that video if I wasn’t so fat.” I raise my chin and look Mom in the eye. “You said that. Right before I went outside and tried to—”
Mom bolts out of the rocker like it’s on fire. “You always do that! You take the slightest thing that I say and twist it! I don’t have a mean bone in my body, Colby Diane! I am a good mother! Just look at Rachel and Drew!”
“Time out,” Dr. Matthews calmly says. He rises from his chair and moves to the door. “Mrs. Denton, I’d like to speak to Colby alone now.”
“You—you think I’m a bad mother, don’t you? Just because I said that, you think that I’m a horrible person.” She shakes her head. “I knew this was a bad idea to bring Colby. All I want is for you to tell me what to do to fix her.” She backs down into the rocker. “Can you do that? I just want her to stop eating like she does so that she can be happy. I grew up in a girls’ home, and the thing that got me out of that place was beauty pageants. I want all of my daughters to have a way to be successful, and, well, even if we don’t have any money, we can always get sponsors, and—”
Dr. Matthews smiles kindly and sounds like he’s talking to a little kid. “I’m sure you’re doing the best you can, Mrs. Denton. I don’t think that you’re a bad person. You brought Colby here so that she can get help, right?”
Mom nods, and she looks just like a little kid to me, too.
He continues, “We’re finished with the first part of the interview, when I speak to parent and child together. Now, I’d like to speak to Colby alone. At the end of the session, I’ll call for you, and we’ll make a plan for the next several days, okay?”
Mom looks confused. “You mean—this is going to take longer than just today, to fix her?”
Dr. Matthews looks taken aback, and he nods slowly. “Yeah, I think so. Sounds like we have quite a bit of work to do. Now…you wait outside, all right?” He opens the door a little wider and gives her a reassuring nod.
Mom picks up her purse. “I-I’ll finish the paperwork for you while I’m waiting.”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Denton.” He watches her go to the waiting room. “See you soon.”
Chapter Nineteen
Dr. Matthews pushes the door closed, walks slowly to his desk, and stares at a framed photo of his family. He raises his eyes to the ceiling, like he’s thinking about something, and then settles back into his chair. “I’m…curious about something you said, Colby. When you were telling what your mom said about the video being your fault, you said, ‘Right before I went outside and tried to—’ but your mom cut you off before you could finish that sentence. What were you going to say?” He tilts his head, watches me.
“I—don’t remember,” I lie.
Dr. Matthews narrows his eyes, shakes his head, and says gently, “I don’t know you well, or really at all, yet, but I have to say, I don’t think you’re telling the truth. Let’s make sure I understand the situation here, though, because I could be wrong.” He holds up one finger. “First of all, it looks to me like your mom gives you a lot of static about your weight and the way you eat. Am I right?”
I nod.
Two fingers. “Second of all, your cousin filmed you at a very private moment, and whether he meant for it to be shared or not, the video was posted to Facebook and seen by at least a couple hundred people—and probably more, since the friends of the friends of the friends…” He makes a pained face at me. “Man, that sucks. I can’t even imagine how awful that would feel. I think I would feel betrayed, violated, enraged…Would you say you felt any of those emotions?”
I bury my face in the pillow again and nod.
He takes a big breath in and blows it out. I look up. He holds up three fingers. “And then, your mom, who, you know, it would be nice if she had your back on this one, but your mom actually blames you for the video being made…right?”
I nod and feel my face crumbling. “Yes.” I start crying, and I don’t know how long it takes me to stop. The doctor finally picks up a box of tissues off his desk and walks it over to me, then sits in the rocker, and we’re pretty much knee-to-knee.
“I know,” he says softly. “I know that must have hurt. Bless your heart.”
I pull out some tissues, wipe my eyes, and draw some shuddery breaths. Just hearing Dr. Matt give words to the pain makes me feel like I’m going to break into little pieces and ooze all over the floor in a puddle. It’s like the relief a balloon must feel when it’s so full of air that it bursts. If a balloon could feel, I mean.
“So then when you went outside, Colby, what were you going to do?”
I breathe the word, “Try,” but it comes out mostly as a sob.
“Were you trying to go for a walk? Or trying to get some fresh air?”
I shake my head slowly and close my eyes. “No,” I whisper. “I tried to…die.” I raise my eyes to his, then immediately look away. “When I went outside, I tried to get hit by a big truck. But instead, Ryan did.”
“So…Ryan wasn’t suicidal?”
I shake my head. “No. I was.” I inhale shakily and breathe out, “He just got in the way of my plans. That’s all.”
“Why did you want to die, sweetheart?”
I restack the pillows on my lap and look down at them. “I—I’m a terrible person. I’m a disaster and…so, so…fat. I don’t fit anywhere. I destroyed my family. I—”
Dr. Matthews holds up a hand. “First of all, you’re not a terrible person, and you’re not a disaster. And, what do you mean, you destroyed your family?”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and envision the photo taped behind our family picture, then bring my gaze back down to the doctor’s. I tell him everything that’s happened in the past few months, and I don’t stop until his talking alarm clock announces that we’re out of time. Dr. Matt gets out of his chair to call my mother in.
“Wait!”
He turns to me.
“You can’t tell her that I didn’t try to save Ryan. Please! It’s the first time in my life she’s ever been proud of me for anything. Please, please, Dr. Matt. Please don’t tell her how it really was.”
“Colby, you are definitely a danger to yourself, and I am ethically obligated to tell your mother that I believe you are at r
isk for suicide.”
“Can you…Can you tell her that without telling her that Ryan died saving me? Can you just give me some time to figure out how to tell her?”
“Will you agree to a contract with me, where you promise to call me if you are about to harm yourself? Can you do that, Colby? Can you promise that you won’t do anything to yourself and that you’ll come for another session next week?”
“Yes, yes, I promise; just don’t tell my mom that I’m a lying sack of shit, please.”
He frowns. “You’re not a lying sack of shit.”
I swallow hard. “I promise. I won’t hurt myself and if I feel like I’m going to do anything stupid, I’ll call you.”
Mom starts spewing words the second she steps back into Dr. Matthews’s office. “See? What did I tell you? Now can you see what I’ve been putting up with?”
Dr. Matthews sits back down and orders her, “Have a seat.”
Mom looks a little surprised but does as he asks. She babbles, “I just don’t understand why Colby is so different from her sisters; I’ve mothered her the exact same as Rachel and Drew. It’s like she eats the way she does to get back at me.” She looks to Dr. Matt for some kind of response, but all she gets is that same stony gaze.
He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “Listen to me, Mrs. Denton. You may not like what you’re going to hear, but I’m going to be straight with you because you need to act like a parent, not a self-centered child.”
Mom’s jaw drops, and her eyes get as big as CDs.
“Colby is severely depressed and at great risk for suicide. I know that you are most concerned about the eating and her weight, but the first thing we need to do is stabilize her so that she is alive to work on the other issues.”
Mom furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head at me. “Colby, you’re not suicidal. You’d tell me if you were depressed!” She glares at the doctor. “My girls can talk to me about anything. There’s no way that—”
Dr. Matt cuts her off. “I can assure you that she is depressed, and she is suicidal. And, she is telling you, in other ways. People with eating disorders are at greater risk for suicide. The binge eating disorder is Colby’s way of unplugging from intense emotions. By eating massive amounts of food in a short period of time, she creates the problem of feeling guilty or ashamed of eating so much, rather than the guilt or shame she feels about something else: disappointing you, for example. I will work up a plan of treatment goals, but the short-term goal for this week is to keep Colby safe: That’s paramount! Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
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