On Paper Wings

by Magan Vernon

  Blaine’s mom wasn’t exactly a delicate flower. You would think she raised a house full of boys the way she talked to him, but Blaine was actually the youngest with two older sisters. Meg was the oldest with her daughters Abby and Ashley. Then her son Braiden. Alicia had Marcus and looked like she was about to pop with her second child at any moment even though she wasn’t due until Christmas.

  “You should know to keep your hands to yourself young man, especially when Meemaw is around,” Vicki said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Now go take Libby into the dining room and introduce her to Meemaw, while I finish up the meal.

  “Need any help, Vicki?” Aunt Dee asked.

  “I could always use the help of the best cook in the Parrish, Dee,” Vicki said.

  I looked back for Britt, but she was already in the living room, glued to the television. I guess it was just me and Blaine...and Meemaw.

  Blaine grinned and squeezed my side. “Come on, Lib. Time to meet Meemaw.”

  I blew out a deep breath. “Okay. I hope I look all right.”

  I didn’t exactly know what was protocol for Thanksgiving garb in the Crabtree household. The first time I went there for a Sunday family dinner, I was in a dress I bought in New Orleans, while the rest of the family was in shorts. The Gentrys’ seemed to think that every holiday was a fashion show, especially my mom’s family who we spent Thanksgiving with every year. If my outfit wasn’t pressed, designer, and a dress then Grandma would turn her nose up.

  Blaine’s eyes trailed over me. From the bottom of my boots, up my dark skinny jeans, and to my long sweater until his eyes met mine. “Baby, you know I like anything you wear.” He leaned in closer, his words barely a whisper. “Or what you don’t wear.”

  I shivered at his sexy baritone, then swatted his chest. “Not now, Blaine. Not before I’m about to meet your grandma.”

  He shook his head, an all-out toothy grin spreading on his face. “You’re probably right, Lib. As much as I hate to admit when you are.”

  I had only seen Steel Magnolias once, but if Miss Ouiser were about thirty years older and smoked unfiltered cigarettes, that would be Blaine’s Meemaw.

  The old women was hunched over a chair with an oxygen tank sitting next to her. She had tubes in her nose that connected her to the whirring green machine, and there was still dirt under her fingernails as if she recently worked in the garden, or just never washed them. A big straw hat covered most of her gray, curly hair, and her bright blue eyes flickered in my direction as soon as we entered the dining room.

  She may have been old, but there was nothing but fire beneath that stare.

  “Well, well, if it ain’t the girl that’s got Blaine all catawampus.” Her voice was shaky, but she still had the strong southern accent.

  “Yep, this is Libby, Meemaw. Dee’s great niece.” Blaine squeezed my side and gently shoved me toward Meemaw.

  I put my hand out and took hers. It was cold as ice and I tried not to flinch as she limply shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  Meemaw shook her head and laughed, gently patting my hand. “Well aren’t you just a peach? Even calling me ma’am. Your mama must have taught you some manners, even if you are a Yankee.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. No one had really ever called me a Yankee before. I thought the war was over, but maybe not for everyone. Especially given Meemaw’s age. She could have even been in the war.

  “But, you could use some fattening up. You’re as thin as a rail.” Meemaw poked my ribs, and I yelped. My stomach gurgled in response as well.

  “I’ve been telling her the same thing, Meemaw, but I like her anyway. Skinny Yankee and all.” Blaine smiled.

  I didn’t know exactly how to take his response or hers for that matter. Thankfully, I was saved by Vicki coming in the dining room with a pan full of turkey. “Supper’s on!” she yelled.

  Not long after she yelled, the dining room filled with the rest of Blaine’s family. His father sat at the head of the table with Blaine’s brother-in-laws and sisters to the right, and me, Aunt Dee, Britt, and Blaine on the other side with his mom taking the other head of the table. The kids were all in a smaller table in the kitchen, and I wished I could escape and be in there with them.

  I tried not to eat around other people. Ever. If I ate, I usually wolfed down what I could to make sure it came up or didn’t eat anything at all. Aunt Dee was starting to notice this trend and would always keep an extra eye on me. Now I had multiple eyes. Watching. Judging. Waiting for my next move.

  “I’m so excited, I’m so excited.” Abby skipped into the room and plopped herself down on her mom’s lap.

  “What are you so excited for, baby?” Meg asked, pushing a fallen strand of hair behind Abby’s ears.

  “Because Uncle Blaine and Aunt Libby are getting married, and I’m going to be the flower girl,” she said matter-of-factly.

  All the air felt like it was sucked out of my lungs, and the room went silent before all eyes swerved to me and Blaine’s direction.

  “Yer gettin hitched, Blaine, and you didn’t even bother to tell me? Guess I better croak soon so y’all can have a house, and you aren’t livin’ with yer mama.” Meemaw cackled.

  Blaine shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. “No, Meemaw. We aren’t getting married.” He looked at me nervously and around the table. “I mean anytime soon. Not now. I mean...” He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know where Abby got that idea.”

  Meg laughed. “Abby did someone tell you Blaine and Libby were getting married?”

  Abby jumped off her mother’s lap. “I thought it was about time that they did, so I decided they should.”

  Everyone at the table laughed, and I thought I would be able to breathe again, but instead my breath caught in my lungs and wouldn’t get out. My head was pounding, and the room wouldn’t focus. I needed air. Something to break the building tension.

  I stood up, thinking I was excusing myself in a polite manner, but when I went to speak it felt like my mouth was full of cotton. I heard a crash from somewhere behind me, but it felt like it was far away and I was underwater. Drowning.

  “Libby, are you okay?” A faint voice asked but it was muffled.

  I pushed away from the table and made my way to the doorway as quickly as I could. But the world was moving in slow motion. Every step felt like I was trying to trudge through wet cement.

  “Libby!”

  A forceful hand spun me around, and I stared at the endless blue of Blaine’s eyes before the world went dark.

  ***

  Everything went by in a blur.

  Sirens. Blaine’s hand on mine. So much white. So much talking.

  By the time I was finally able to open my eyes, it took a while for them to adjust.

  A machine beeped next to me, and my arms were hooked to different IVs.

  I rubbed my eyes and finally was able to focus on the white walls around me.

  “Hey, baby, you’re awake,” a tired voice said.

  I shifted, and Blaine was next to me with his hand on mine. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  I gently shook my head. Everything took great effort to move. “I don’t even know what happened.”

  “You passed the fuck out, because you probably haven’t eaten in days,” he said harshly.

  I scrunched my nose. “Wow, way to be sensitive to your girlfriend in the hospital.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say. I’ve always noticed that you were worried about your, figure, or whatever, but I guess I didn’t realize how extreme it was.”

  “I’m fine,” I muttered.

  He shook his head and sat down on the bed next to me. “No, baby, you’re not. You were so dehydrated when they brought you in that you’ve gone through three IV bags of fluid. I don’t know much else that’s going on, or any of this medical talk, but I do know that Aunt Dee called your mama, and she’s getting on the first plane she can here.”


  “My mom?” I squeaked. She was the last person I wanted to see. She would call me irresponsible and demand that I go back to Illinois, or possibly even worse, her and dad would figure it would be best if I was locked up. Far away, so they wouldn’t have to deal with me.

  “Yeah, I heard Dee on the phone with her. I didn’t hear too much of the conversation, because I was more focused on you, but after Dee got off the phone, she said your mom was on her way.”

  I let out as deep of a breath of air as my lungs would let me. “Well, this is some Thanksgiving.”

  “At least you’re okay. You gave us all one hell of a scare. I swear when the EMTs came in they looked right at Meemaw, and we had to push them in your direction.”

  “Stop trying to make me feel better.”

  He laughed before leaning in closer, his eyes growing serious. “Baby, I had no idea things were this bad. I wish you would have talked to me. Wish there was something I could have done.”

  I licked my lips and shook my head slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine.”

  He sighed. “Obviously you’re not, Lib. I don’t think you realize how bad you scared all of us, how badly I’m hurting for you. I never thought I’d have to watch you fall and fear that you wouldn’t get up again. That I’d never get to see those beautiful, brown eyes of yours or see you smile. A smile that I’m not sure if it’s even real anymore.”

  “Blaine, I’m the same girl. I’m not sick or crazy. Please don’t think I’m crazy.” My voice cracked with each word as tears threatened to spring from my eyes.

  Blaine pushed forward, placing his hands on either side of my hips and moved his face until it was just inches from mine. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I don’t want you to think that either. I can’t say that I understand what’s going through your head, but I can say that I’ll be here for you no matter what. If I haven’t made it clear, I love you more than anything.”

  “It’s not that easy to understand. I don’t even understand all of it myself.”

  He moved to my side and shifted until he was lying down next to me. “Hopefully you will and once you do, then we can work together to help you get over it. I’ll do whatever I have to do to support you. I’m sorry if I haven’t been around for you as much as you’ve needed me, but I’ll try. I’ll try my damn hardest, and if that isn’t enough, then I’ll try even harder.”

  I turned to face him, meeting the blue of his eyes. There was so much sadness behind him. So much that even his words couldn’t say. He really did care about me, and maybe it was time I started caring about myself.

  “I’ll try too. I can’t do it on my own, but I’ll try.”

  He kissed my forehead. “You won’t have to be on your own ever again.”

  Chapter 14

  Black Friday was one of my favorite days of the year.

  It wasn’t technically a holiday, unless you had your own black card, and it happened to fall on your birthday.

  But this birthday, and Black Friday wasn’t one for the books.

  “Miss Gentry?”

  The nurse knocked on my door, waking me up out of another nap. It seemed like that’s all there was to do in the hospital: watch TV or nap. That is when the doctors weren’t coming in to check on me, or Aunt Dee wasn’t coming in, wringing her hands and worrying, or Blaine sat by my bedside until I made him leave because I knew he was falling asleep.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  The nurse entered the room followed by a tall, slender brunette in a white lab coat. She didn’t look old enough to wear the lab coat let alone the doctor nametag. “Miss Gentry, Doctor Brown is here to see you and just wanted to talk to you about some things. Is that okay?”

  I swallowed hard, looking over the woman. I didn’t know what kind of doctor actually saw someone with my sort of problem. If she was a shrink that wanted to psychoanalyze me, or what I was in for. I honestly had no idea, but I knew there was no way I could say ‘no’.

  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  The nurse nodded. “Okay, I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

  There was an awkward silence as Dr. Brown stared down at me in the bed. I straightened up to a better sitting position and ran my fingers through my hair. Like it really mattered what I looked like. I was in a freaking hospital after passing out at my boyfriend’s house. Things couldn’t get much worse.

  “So, Libby. I looked at your chart, and I see that you’re new to the area. You’re originally from Chicago, is that right?” Dr. Brown’s voice was sincere. She didn’t act like she was interrogating me or fishing for details, but was genuinely interested.

  “Yeah. I go to school here,” I replied.

  “Oh, Tulane?” She asked.

  I sighed. My head was still pounding, and I was getting so much liquid through my IV that I had to pee every few minutes so they finally put a catheter on me, since I was a fall risk. It was one of the most embarrassing situations I’d been in, and what made it worse was how many people I knew that came to see me. I never thought I’d have my boyfriend in the room while a nurse came in and emptied my catheter, spilling some of the contents in the process.

  “No. I go to St. Joseph Community College, because I wanted to be here to be closer to my boyfriend. My boyfriend I met, because I went to a party with my sixteen-year-old cousin, and he was her crush, but instead I flirted with him because that’s what I do. I flirt and bat my eyelashes to try and get what I want, though I don’t always get that. It didn’t work for keeping me in college. That’s why I flunked out of it in Illinois and was forced to move with my Great Aunt in the first place, then I ended up staying because, hey I thought I was finally happy. Then all this shit started piling up like school, my boyfriend looking at other girls, the abundance of southern food, and my jeans not fitting. Now I’m in the hospital because I freaking passed out and it sucks.”

  I let out a deep breath through my nose. I didn’t know where all the word vomit came from, but it actually felt good to get it out.

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting all of that, but I guess we’ve hit step one of your treatment: admitting that you have a problem,” she said, putting her hands on the bed rail.

  “So you are here to psychoanalyze me? What do you think? Am I a real piece of work?” I asked.

  She smiled slightly. “I’m a behavioral therapist, Libby. I know you may think that every counselor or psychiatrist is just out to judge you. It’s probably part of the reason you got into this situation, because you were afraid of people judging you. I can’t promise you that the feeling will go away, but I can promise you that I’m going to be here to listen to you and work with you on the best way to get over your eating disorder.”

  “Eating disorder?” I scoffed. “I don’t have an eating disorder.”

  “Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “You mean to tell me that you didn’t pass out at boyfriend’s home because you hadn’t eaten real food in days, and your body was trying to tell you something?”

  I looked away, not sure how to answer her. I didn’t want to admit I had a problem. It was hard to ever admit anything out loud. I’d been vulnerable too many times in my life, and I was getting tired of being weak.

  “Libby. I’m not here to judge you. I was just giving you some tough love, throwing right back at you what you were throwing at me. I don’t want you to hate this process. I want us to both have a mutual respect and understanding.”

  I blinked slowly, trying to fight back tears. I was physically and mentally exhausted. “How are you supposed to help me when I have no idea how to help myself, or if I even can?”

  “It’s okay to be vulnerable and to admit you’re vulnerable. The key is to admit that you need help and to find the people that you trust to help you.”

  She walked around the bed until she was standing right in front of me. “I want to be one of those people that you trust. I’ll talk you through whatever you need here, then we’ll make a plan so that you can go home and have the righ
t tools so this doesn’t happen again. We’ll make nutritionist appointments, set you up for group therapy, and follow-ups with me.”

  I shook my head. “How am I supposed to do all of that, have time to work, and keep up with schoolwork? I have finals after break, and a shit ton of inventory that I’m supposed to work on tomorrow.”

  “Libby...” she chastised. “We will work around whatever schedule you have. If you don’t get better, you won’t be able to do any of those things, and you’ll just end up right back here, or even worse. I don’t think you’re bad enough that we need to see about admitting you for a longer period, but I do think we should start scheduling some follow-ups and come up with a plan. I want to see you get better, and I know you want to see yourself get better.”

  “I do.” I swallowed hard. “I just always feel like I’m drowning. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to keep my head above water.”

  Dr. Brown’s face stayed frozen. She didn’t smile or frown, but I knew she was listening. “That’s why I’m here. I’m your temporary lifejacket until you can learn to swim on your own. We can work together to identify your triggers and have you treading water in no time.”

  I let out a deep breath, unsure of what I should say. I wasn’t sure if I believed her or not, but I knew I couldn’t keep playing this game. I knew that I was probably slowly killing myself and really did need the help. I guess that was the first step.

  Dr. Brown patted my hand. “Now, while I’d love to stay and talk to you some more, there is someone else waiting for you so I’ll be back later this afternoon along with a nutritionist. Is that okay?”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Someone else is waiting to talk to me?”

  Dr. Brown nodded. “She’s right out in the hallway. I thought I should talk to you first, but if you need anything, please don’t be afraid to ask.” She pulled a business card out of her coat pocket and set it on the table near my bed. “Anything at all.”

  Her words echoed in my head as she walked out of the room.