Her Perfect

by Walls, Stephie

  It wasn’t until we turned at the sign for the facility that I bothered with the details. The facility or housing or whatever it was called here, sat a long way back from the road. Lush gardens and gorgeous landscape reached as far as the eye could see. It looked more like a luxury spa than any rehabilitation center I’d imagined. The pictures online didn’t do it justice. Nevertheless, I wasn’t fooled by the appearance which came at a price—a price my parents were all too happy to pay to save face in Brogdon.

  I tried one last time to reason with them. “Don’t you think this is a tad extreme? Couldn’t we turn around and try counseling or round-the-clock babysitting?” Anything other than being dumped here. “For the love of God, Daddy, you’re a doctor. Why can’t you treat me?”

  I didn’t even get the courtesy of a response or a reprimand for taking the Lord’s name in vain.

  My father pulled in front of the building and got out as a man in a black suit rounded the front of our car. Valet. I couldn’t roll my eyes far enough back to illustrate how vulgar and pretentious I found this. The same man retrieved my bags from the trunk, and I relented to my fate. Although, I did not go gentle into that good night. Dylan Thomas brought Eli to mind, and I fought to stave off the tears that burned my eyes.

  Mama rubbed my arm. “See, this won’t be so bad.” Utterly clueless.

  And then as quickly as we’d arrived inside, my parents played the devoted role of loving caretakers…right before they announced their departure. They didn’t stay for the tour, they didn’t see me to my room, or meet the staff. Phillip and Elise Chapman had done their duty—dropped me off and paid for the trip; none of which should’ve surprised me. Yet there I stood, dumbfounded, as they pulled out of the circular drive.

  “Why don’t I show you to your room?” Emily—I thought that was her name, but I only vaguely remembered the introduction—wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It was meant to be comforting; it gave me hives, and I shrugged her off.

  There was no intake process, and I’d yet to see another living soul besides the valet. “Don’t you need to get my name and information or something?” I searched for an office or triage and came up empty-handed.

  “Your parents provided that by phone.” So, all Bright Horizons had were statistics my parents lifted off my driver’s license along with their credit card number to pay the tab. Good to know.

  I followed Emily down the corridor to a suite that looked more like a fancy hotel room than a mental health facility. There, on the plush bedding, sat my suitcases, unzipped and open. My jaw dropped about the same time Emily—who I shall refer to as Satan going forward—snapped the edge of her latex gloves one by one.

  I didn’t have time to close my mouth, much less stop her grubby paws from digging through my things. “What are you doing?”

  Satan didn’t even look up. “Checking for contraband.”

  “Contraband? What is this? A prison? I don’t have a shank or anything.”

  The devil herself pulled out my razor and set it on the mattress.

  “You know I’m not suicidal, right? Why are you taking my razor?” I stared in disbelief when she added to the pile. “Seriously? It’s Tylenol.” I picked up the travel container and looked inside. “I can hardly overdose on…” I counted them in the bottle. “…eight pills.”

  Lucifer snatched the plastic cylinder from my fingers and put it with the razor. Seconds later, she added nail clippers and mouthwash to her pile. Seemingly satisfied, her horns retracted—or so I’d thought—and she turned to me with her hand held out.

  “What?” I had no idea what she wanted.

  “No jewelry.” She raised her brows and pointed to my diamond studs, and then she pulled a plastic bag out of her pocket. “Put them in here, sign the front, and seal it. You’ll get them back at discharge.”

  They weren’t all that expensive and certainly didn’t hold sentimental value, but it still seemed absurd. I did as she had instructed, but before I sealed the bag, she stopped me.

  “Necklace too.”

  I adamantly shook my head and reached up to touch the pendant. “No.” I refused. “I just got it. It was a Christmas present.”

  Eli had slid the chain around my neck right before he had left for Michigan. It was dainty and elegant, resembling a snowflake. A reminder of just how unique I was—his words, not mine. The little diamond chips sparkled. They made me feel special. I wasn’t about to give up the only piece of him I had with me—the only piece I might ever have after this charade was over.

  “You can earn it back when you move out of the dorms.”

  My mind spun. “Like check out?” That would be months from now.

  She dropped her hands to her sides. “Has no one told you anything about this process?” Her eyes no longer flickered with the flames of hell. Instead, they appeared forlorn, sympathetic maybe—an emotion I was quite certain the devil could not embody.

  I shook my head, still clutching Eli’s gift that hung around my neck. “No. It was all sprung on me two days ago.”

  Emily set the plastic bag on the dresser, removed her gloves, and motioned toward the small sitting area near the window. There, she proceeded to tell me the basics of Bright Horizons. Ideally, I would be in the “dorms” for thirty days or less, depending on my progress—which was up to me to determine. I would have individual therapy, group therapy, nutrition classes, a meeting with a nutritionist one on one to develop my daily meal plan and goals, and a personal trainer. Meals were served in the cafeteria—it sounded more like a restaurant—and they weren’t optional. Exercise was limited until I proved I could use it responsibly. And therapy was the driving force behind wellness.

  My days were outlined, every minute accounted for—structure, structure, structure. “What about school?”

  “What about it?”

  I had to remind myself that Emily didn’t know me, and she only had the limited knowledge my parents had imparted, if that. “I graduate in May. I’m in the running for valedictorian. When do I do my schoolwork?” This could become a huge sticking point, even bigger than the necklace. I didn’t know what other options I had, but I would not give up valedictorian for anyone. I’d worked too hard to maintain that spot, and I’d be damned if I’d hand it over to Jess without a fight.

  “You’ll meet with Raine this afternoon. She coordinates those additions into each patient’s routine.”

  Raine. What kind of name was that?

  “Do you have any other questions?”

  I had so many that I couldn’t formulate one. “I guess not.”

  She hopped up and went to get my contraband and the earrings in the baggie. “Necklace.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  Emily glanced at her watch. “I’ll let you take that up with Raine. Your appointment is in ten minutes, so I’ll walk you to her office.”

  An hour later, I’d lost the jewelry, shed a deluge of tears, and already hated everything and everyone in this damn place, starting with Raine. I’d never wished pain or death upon anyone, but I was tempted to ask God for this one favor. Although I was fairly certain He’d deny that request since He hadn’t answered any of my others in recent years.

  The only thing I’d left that horrible woman’s office with was the knowledge that I could earn rewards, although here they called them “privileges.” If playing by their stupid rules got me a phone call to Eli or out of the “dorms” where I wouldn’t have the level of restrictions I did as of now, then I could play the game. I had to.

  Dinner was the first test. Internally, I shook my head and snickered at their stupidity. I could eat a well-balanced meal and not feel the weight of guilt. They prevented my ability to overeat, thereby eliminating the desire to purge and the need to be here.

  I didn’t socialize with anyone at my table or participate in the after-dinner activities. I went back to my room to complete my homework for Raine—journaling. My schoolwork would resume when classes started back in a couple of days, but it w
ould be monitored. There would be no contact with anyone at the school or in Brogdon, and they would make certain of that.

  The next morning, I met with Raine, my nutritionist, and personal trainer, together. The three of them derived a plan while I listened. When they were done, I expressed my thoughts.

  “I’m a runner. I’m not giving up running. I don’t care if it’s on a treadmill, but I’m not scratching it off just because it burns too many calories. So, if I have to eat more to get to run, so be it.” I wasn’t sure how I’d manage that since the idea of eating to run defeated the point of running, but I’d cross that bridge when I reached it.

  The trainer cocked his brow in interest. “How many miles do you typically run per day?”

  I decided to be honest. I doubted I’d get my way anyhow. “It used to be about seven.” I didn’t mention my parents setting a limit at Thanksgiving because I hadn’t adhered to it. “But there’ve been times it’s been over ten and others where it was less.”

  Chewy—he resembled Chewbacca, and I hadn’t bothered to learn his name—leaned back and folded his arms in a relaxed position on his chest. “Part of this process is learning to curb excessive tendencies, Colbie.”

  “So, by that rationale, I won’t be forced into hours of daily sessions that I might become dependent upon? Or encouraged to write in excess to explore my emotions? And the facility—”

  “Unhealthy excessive tendencies,” he corrected.

  “When did running become unhealthy?”

  Raine and the other guy kept their mouths shut while Chewy argued Bright Horizon’s case. “Why do you run?”

  There were a host of reasons, none of which would help my situation. “Is everything I say going to be psychoanalyzed?”

  “You’re evading.”

  “Questioning for clarity.” I could banter with this guy all day long.

  Chewy grinned. “Helping you to understand your pattern of behavior will help you to manage negative tendencies.”

  I crossed my legs, held my knee with my hands, and rocked back. “Or, at least those you deem excessively negative.”

  “It’s a simple question, Colbie. Why do you run?”

  It wasn’t a simple answer. I ran because it was good exercise that used plyometrics and cardio to strengthen muscles along with aiding in heart and lung health. The high—I knew better than to use that term—accelerated me past exhaustion like a needle in the vein. It eliminated stress, gave me time to think, and countless other reasons like burning calories. “I enjoy the solitude.”

  “Then walking alone on a treadmill for an equal amount of time would provide you that same emotional fulfillment, correct?” One of Chewy’s eyes narrowed just a smidge, and I’d swear I noticed a hint of a grin. Bastard.

  An hour walking on a treadmill might get me five miles. Whereas an hour of running could yield seven to eight, depending on my hustle. I didn’t have much time to debate. Chewy saw me calculating numbers in my head and weighing my options.

  “Yes.” It was a blatant lie; we both knew it. But they’d never agree to my running habits, and it was better to log more miles even if it were at a slower pace. If I were limited by distance, my workouts would be over before I started.

  God I missed Eli. With no way to communicate, I hadn’t had so much as a text message to cling to. For all I knew he’d given up, or he would when he found out what a basket case I was. I hated thinking he’d be so fickle, but I couldn’t bear the thought of him facing the firing squad to defend us, either.

  “Colbie?” Chewy said my name like a cheese, and I hated it.

  I glanced up to find him waiting on something. “Yeah?”

  “You have group down the hall.”

  Raine opened the door and put her hand on my arm. “It all becomes routine pretty quickly. Just don’t fight the process.”

  That was easier said than done when my entire life had been thrown into a paper bag, shaken up like chicken in flour, and then thrown into a fryer.

  * * *

  “You need to lower your voice, Colbie.” Raine would do better to close her office door than tell me to be quiet.

  “Why don’t I get a phone call?”

  “If you’d like to sit and have a discussion, we can. I won’t tolerate yelling.”

  I hated who I was in this minute. I’d never been confrontational because I’d never had a need. But I’d absolutely fight over getting to call Eli. “I’ve been here two weeks. I’ve done everything you guys tell me to when you tell me to do it. I’ve played by the rules, participated in all these stupid classes and therapy sessions. I’ve even met with a nutritionist named Ralph without making any jokes about the irony in putting someone you believe is bulimic with a guy whose very name conjures the thought of purging! Why does everyone else get a phone call and I don’t?” I sat in the chair I often occupied across from her desk.

  “You broke the rules. Privileges are earned…and lost.”

  I didn’t understand. “I haven’t broken any of the rules. I don’t know where you got your information, but I’ve done exactly what you told me I had to do.”

  Raine scooted her chair closer to her desk, put her elbows on top, and then fiddled with a pen in her hands while she smiled. “What time is lights out?”

  I hated the smug expression on her thin lips and the patchouli she wore like deodorant. “Ten.”

  “What time did you turn yours off last night?”

  “Five after.” This had to be a joke. “I was finishing my homework, Raine. It had to be turned in before the weekend. Remember, I’m not in class because I’m here.” I spread out my arms just in case she didn’t realize which here I referred to. “Meaning, not only do I have to do the work, but I have to teach myself the material.”

  She set down the pen and laced her fingers together. “The rules are in place for a reason, Colbie. And you have to learn that you can’t bend them to suit your need.”

  “So I should ignore school to adhere to an arbitrary rule some psychologist put into place for the masses without consideration for the individual?”

  Raine slid her glasses off her nose and set them next to the pen I wanted to stab her with. “Colbie, I realize this is a struggle for you. It’s always the intelligent patients who struggle the most because your mind doesn’t want to relinquish control. But that same control issue is what landed you here to begin with. Your life would not have been altered by handing in your homework five minutes earlier.”

  “I wouldn’t have gotten an A.”

  She shrugged. “And? That’s one assignment. Not your entire academic career.”

  My lips were drying out from breathing through the hole between them. “It is my entire academic career. I’m vying for valedictorian, Raine.” My blood boiled, and my heart raced. I couldn’t recall ever being as angry as I was right now. “All it takes is one slip-up to lose that spot. A spot I’ve spent nearly four years trying to procure.”

  “Then you made a choice.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “A choice for what?”

  “That your class rank was more important than the phone call you profess to so desperately want.”

  “Why does it have to be either or?”

  “Because you can’t relinquish control. Nothing in your life is done in moderation. When you can learn to balance life’s requirements, you won’t need the restrictions. You’re not there.” The blank expression on her face infuriated me more than her words.

  There was nothing left to discuss. I’d tried to look at this as a vacation, a reprieve from my parents. I convinced myself that there were things I could learn here to help me relax and not take life so seriously, and I’d done so to prove to Eli that I didn’t need to be here but also that I loved him enough to try. That I could follow the rules, get the rewards, and be home to him at the end of the semester. Then he’d have nothing to worry about after graduation—assuming there was an after graduation for the two of us. As it stood, I hadn’t talked to him in two week
s. No letters, no carrier pigeons, no calls, texts, telegraph, or even smoke signals. Nada. Zilch. I had no idea where he was in this, what had happened in Brogdon after I’d left, whether my parents notified the school, or if our relationship still existed. I had nothing.

  And now, that silence would continue because I’d failed at something that should have been elementary, something I’d done my entire life without falter—follow the rules. Never had I been penalized for making school a priority; it was what every parent dreamed of for their kids, but it killed my drive to have another perfect week. One tiny mistake. Five minutes had cost me the only thing I’d cared about having. Time with Eli.

  I sulked back to my room where I skipped group and nutrition. I hadn’t even bothered to go to the gym during my scheduled workout—it was a joke anyhow. This was ludicrous. I hated being here, and I wanted to go home. Yet there was nothing there, either. My parents wouldn’t welcome my return, and whether Eli wanted to or not, I couldn’t live with him and finish school. I had nowhere to go until this was over.

  Despite Raine’s insistence, I refused to get out of bed the next day except to pee. I abdicated my responsibilities, school included, in favor of wallowing in depression. And the things that I could have counted on to bring me pleasure weren’t within reach. I couldn’t stimulate that satisfaction through food or running or sex—they were all off the table. Perfection wasn’t attainable. I couldn’t play the piano or read a book. Every joy in my life had been stripped away, and all I was left with was myself.

  And that was a painful mirror to look into.

  18