Dr. Jefferson rested his hand on my shoulder and my head sank. Dad continued to ask the doctor more questions, but I couldn’t focus on the words coming out of either of their mouths. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that when I opened them back up this would be a terrible nightmare. But I was still surrounded by plastic purple chairs and sad people as far as the eye could see.
Dad thought that we should start calling family at this point, and he volunteered to call most of them. I insisted that I call Ashley, but I started sending him phone numbers of everyone else I thought might need to know.
I decided to take my call with Ashley outside, where the birds still chirped and the sun shined down on me. If someone had told me when I scrambled out of bed this morning that I’d end up calling my sister with really terrible news about our mom, I wouldn’t have believed them. But here I was, terrible news and all.
She picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Sissy! What’s up?”
“Ash, it’s Mom,” I said, my voice cracking.
“What happened?”
“I came home from school early, long story, and found her passed out on the kitchen floor and couldn’t wake her up. The paramedics had to come and take her to the emergency room.”
“Oh my God.”
“We just heard from the doctor that she’s going to have to be admitted to a mood and eating-disorder facility because she’d been starving herself,” I said.
She was silent for a few seconds on the other end of the line, I’m sure she was trying to figure out her route home and how to clean up this uncleanable mess. She didn’t have a car up at school, so either someone was going to have to come get her or she was going to have to find a Greyhound that came back this way.
“I’m going to see if I can borrow Yael’s car for a few days and make my way back home. I should be there by tonight. Are you there alone?” she asked.
“Dad’s here with me. He’s calling the rest of the family who I feel like need to know,” I said.
“Thank God for Dad,” she said. “Stay strong, Sissy. I know this is awful, but everything will work out. It always does.”
“It’s kind of hard to believe that right now,” I said.
“Just keep remembering that I will be there soon and it won’t all be on you anymore. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said.
Our loved ones started piling into the hospital waiting room an hour after we started our phone train. Grace came first, and she sat beside me, holding my hand until the doctors would come out with more updates. They had been able to find an open bed within the hospital’s psychiatry unit and they were admitting her as an eating-disorder patient. They weren’t sure how to classify it yet, but based on her lab results and her extreme weight loss, they were confident that she should be admitted to that unit.
I’d been instructed to go home and grab a few things that she might need—a toothbrush, pajamas, a pillow—anything that you might bring to a sleepover. They did make one special request: no objects with sharp edges. Grace drove me home and helped me assemble the bag. We let Fiyero outside for a bit, but he kept looking around the house for Mom. I wished I could bring him with, even if it was just for a few minutes, to show him that she was okay. I knew he was worried about her, and it broke my heart that I had no idea how long he’d been trying to wake her up before I got there.
Ashley did end up borrowing Yael’s car, and she was already waiting in the hospital when I got back with the bag of things. She enveloped me in the biggest hug humanly possible, and I clung to her for relief. I knew that I would be able to get through whatever was thrown at me with my sister by my side now.
We gave the bag of her things to the nurse who was helping facilitate Mom’s transition, and she told us that we’d be able to see her tomorrow morning. She gave us directions to get to the unit and told us to check in with the front desk so they could let us in. It hit me then that she would be locked in this place with no way out. It would be so that she could heal and recover, but it felt very scary and final in that moment.
Ashley and I piled into Yael’s car and headed back home to let Fiyero out and attempt to sleep until we could see Mom again in the morning. Dad was close behind in his own car. We didn’t speak as we drove home, but I appreciated the silence. I’d been talking to people all day, reliving the horror that was finding my own mother unconscious on the floor, and I was ready to stop having to explain myself.
The house felt emptier than ever when we walked in. Fiyero tackled Ashley to the floor when he saw her, and I pretended not to hear her crying. She had been trying hard to be so strong for me this whole day, but I think it had all finally hit her in this moment. I went to the fridge and picked up a cup of yogurt. I hadn’t eaten all day, so I knew my body was hungry, but the thought of eating food right now made my stomach roil.
I sat quietly for a few moments, the only sound coming from my spoon hitting the bottom of the yogurt container. Ashley’s footsteps sounded up the stairs, followed by a fluffy poodle monster who was going to be incredibly happy to have his bed buddy back again.
In this moment I felt the most exhausted that I ever had in my entire life. I slunk up the stairs and collapsed onto my bed, too tired to even move the covers or take off my shoes.
It had to be an hour later when I woke up to the feeling of someone removing my shoes. My eyes fluttered open to find my dad standing at the end of my bed. He had a blanket in his hands and he was laying it on top of me. He paused when he noticed my eyes were open.
“Keep sleeping, kiddo,” he said.
I held out my arms to him and he fell into a hug, bringing me closer to him. I didn’t dare let go, because if I did, he might disappear. “Thank you for coming.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. He hugged me tighter as I started to cry. I didn’t know how many times I’d imagined that he was back in this room reading me a bedtime story or telling me a silly joke before I went to school in the morning. I missed this part of him that I’d shut out so firmly when I found out that he cheated on Mom. It had taken me this long to realize that even if they didn’t love each other anymore, it didn’t mean that he didn’t love me still.
Eventually I drifted off to sleep while he sat on the edge of my bed, drawing comforting circles on my back. That night I dreamed of the last time we took a trip as a family to California. We were all walking along the beach and picking up seashells when Dad pushed Ashley into the ocean, and I doubled over I was laughing so hard. She pretended to be angry, but she couldn’t help but laugh herself. Even Mom was joining in on the fun. I remember thinking in that moment that it was perfect, that it was my idea of complete happiness. Dream-Me took a seat on the beach, watching the rest of the scene play out. It no longer made me sad that this memory was the last one of us being happy as a family. Because now I realized there was a possibility of making new happy memories with both Mom and Dad, and even if the memories weren’t made together, eventually they would bring me just as much joy as this one did.
chapter NINETEEN
Dad stayed with me for the first two weeks that Mom was in the hospital. We’d convinced Ashley that it was time for her to go back to school only three days after Mom was first admitted to the psychiatry unit, no matter how many times Ashley insisted on staying. I ended up being the only one allowed to visit Mom once Ashley was gone, and Mom was still pretty angry about her situation. Though I think she was starting to understand that she was there for her own good. It was taking her time to realize that her brain had been working against her for many years.
I sat on the end of her bed the day that marked the end of her mandatory two weeks, and we played a mean game of Chinese checkers. It had always been one of my favorite games to play with her growing up, and I could remember the pride I felt the first time I beat her at a game. It was still unclear if she’d let me win on purpose.
“Has Dr. Brenneman told you when you’ll be ready to be discharged yet?” I asked.
She placed a marble in the
perfect spot to start a train into my corner, and I looked around, trying to find a way to sabotage it. Darn it! She was too good.
“Ha!” she exclaimed, hopping her marble down the train until it landed at the point of my star. “He thinks it will probably be another two weeks of inpatient, then I’ll be coming back for regular checkups. He said that if I’m progressing it could be earlier, but I want to make sure that I’ve had as much care as possible. I want to be in good shape for when I get to go back home with my girl.”
“Take all the time you need. I think you’re doing amazing, and it’s a huge step that you want to stay here and get help,” I said. Plus, I think Dad was having a new real bonding moment with Fiyero. They were fast best friends again.
“It makes me feel terrible that you’ve been having to spend so much time here when you should be spending your time enjoying your senior year. I just want you to have normal-kid experiences,” she said.
“I’m still having normal experiences,” I said. “Remember that story that Grace and I were working on? Well, it turns out our baseball program is totally doing some shady, under-the-table recruiting with colleges. The story ran on Monday and Mrs. Brandt submitted it to this national high school newspaper competition to see if we can win anything for it.”
“What part of that sentence was a normal high school experience?” she said. She tapped my foot with her own. “How did I raise such a smart kid? I can’t believe you came up with something like that.”
“I’m doing other normal high school things,” I said. “I’m going to homecoming with Grace and her boyfriend. And I’m going to go with his friend who still needed a date.”
“Well, that will be fun. He’s a nice boy, isn’t he? I need to see some pictures, please,” she said. I looked up Cole Yen’s Facebook page to show Mom his picture, and she made little comments like “Has a good chin,” and “We’ll have to tame that cowlick before we take pictures.” Hearing her talk like that, like her old self, made me feel warm and safe. I felt like I was getting to know my mom again for the first time, and I loved the person who I was getting to know more than I ever could have imagined.
“Grace and I are going dress shopping after school tomorrow. She’s convinced that I need to get something pink, since she’ll be wearing orange and they will complement each other. I don’t know how I feel about pink, though,” I said, crinkling my nose.
“You’ll be lovely in pink,” she said. “Your hair and your complexion will suit it. I hope you wear your hair down in luscious curls. You have the most beautiful hair.”
Her compliments made me gasp. It had been so long since she’d said anything positive to me about my physical appearance, so long that I couldn’t remember the last time that she said something that made me feel good about how I looked.
“I’ll be sure to send you pictures of all my options,” I said.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you shopping,” she said, taking my hair in her hands and starting to braid it. “Moms are supposed to take their babies dress shopping for every special occasion.”
“We still have prom,” I said.
She kissed my cheek. “That’s my positive girl.”
* * *
As far as best friends went, I think Grace had to go down in the history of most supportive ever. In the past two weeks, she’d done everything in her power to support me and distract me when necessary, including taking me dress shopping for homecoming. She’d dropped all her plans with Ben for the past two weeks to put me first, which was totally unnecessary, but I was beyond grateful to have her around during this difficult time. She’d even called ahead to make sure that the stores we ended up going to carried my size of dresses, which took off another level of stress from my plate. There’s nothing more frustrating than going to a store and not being able to dress your body in the adorable clothes on the rack.
We ended up going to a boutique dress shop in town that advertised great deals for women of all sizes, and we marveled at the dress selection when we walked inside. There were dresses up to size 30 available in-store, and dresses that started at size 2. Having the ability to shop at the same store with my best friend was such a blessing, and I didn’t have to feel like a burden for asking to go to a store that only I could specifically fit into.
“Hi! I made an appointment for Grace Moreno?” Grace asked at the front desk. The girl at the counter smiled at us and checked a name off a list before picking up a phone.
“Laura? Your two-fifteen is here for you,” she said, turning to us. “Laura will be up in a second to help you both out.”
“Thanks!” Grace said, already eyeing a sherbet-orange dress to her left. Grace had been perfecting her spray-tan regimen to fulfill her dream of a creamsicle-esque dress. Not that she needed to tan much, with her naturally olive-colored skin.
“Isn’t this just divine?” she said, holding up the long, flowing dress in front of her. It was. Her long legs could fill out the floor-length skirt, where as if I wore it, I would need at least six inches taken off to not be drowning in fabric. My goal today was to find a short dress that looked as if it was made for a fun-size, five-foot-tall human.
“It’s great,” I said. “Perfect color—it totally suits you.”
“You think?” she asked.
“I know,” I said.
“Grace?” someone said from behind us. We turned around to find who I assumed to be Laura, the sales associate who was helping us find our dream dresses today. She wore a metallic body-con dress and the coolest patchwork heels that I would kill to wear. You know how I roll—the more color, the better.
“Hi!” Grace said, coming up to her with the creamsicle dress still in hand. “You must be Laura. This is Savvy.”
“Nice to meet you both! So … What’s your vision for homecoming? Have you been eyeing anything in particular?” she asked.
Grace held out her orange dress. “Something like this. I really want to make orange work for this year.”
“Good, I like a plan. What about you, Savvy?” she asked.
“I really have no idea,” I said. “Maybe something that will look good in photos with Grace’s dress?” I said.
“I love a fresh palette,” Laura said, rubbing her hands together mischievously. “We’re going to try a bunch of different types of dresses on you until you find one that you like. Are you up for that?”
“Yes,” I said. It actually kind of excited me, the prospect of someone helping me find my perfect dress.
We told Laura our dress sizes, and we followed her around the store as she pulled dresses for us. A few of the dresses made me shake my head in protest, but she insisted that they would look beautiful on. Since she was the expert, I trusted her opinion.
I walked into the dressing room, where all the flouncy dresses in various bright colors and patterns screamed out to me to try them on. But, for some reason, a pink two-piece dress kept catching my eye. It had delicate velvet roses embroidered on the top piece, and a baby-pink tulle skirt to match. The top had cap sleeves and was cropped so a part of my stomach would peek out between the top and skirt.
I pulled the rose-covered top on over my head and admired how the pink complemented my hair color. It was less vibrant than I would normally go, but the understated nature of it made me feel like a princess. I pulled the ballerina skirt on next and gasped as I twirled around. It didn’t look too long, and it hit me just at the top of my knees. I could imagine the perfect pair of lilac heels to accent the embroidered flowers on the top, and the flower crown that I could fashion out of my hair. It all seemed to come together in my head.
“Let’s see it, Savvy!” I heard Grace yell from outside the dressing room.
When I walked out, both Laura and Grace gasped, and that was all the confirmation I needed. It wasn’t just me who thought this was the most gorgeous dress ever.
“Oh, Sav, it’s so pretty,” Grace said. “I know you’re not normally a light-pink girl, but it looks so great.”
&n
bsp; “Damn, I wish this style would have been in fashion when I went to homecoming,” Laura said. “Girl, you could wear that skirt and top with separate outfits after homecoming. It’s, like, the most versatile thing ever.”
“It’s not too much with my stomach showing?” I asked.
“Absolutely not,” Laura said. “I see that smile on your face. I know how you felt when you looked in that mirror. You look gorgeous, you feel gorgeous, so wear the dress.”
I looked at myself in the mirror one last time before I turned back to both of them.
“Okay. I’ve found the most perfect dress in existence.”
* * *
Grace and I were instructed to come into Mrs. Brandt’s room early the next morning, so she picked me up at 8:00 a.m. sharp.
“What do you think is going on?” she asked. “Do you think the school is mad about our story?”
“The school is most definitely mad about our story,” I said. “But I don’t think she would call us in early to state the obvious.”
“So you think this has to do with the competition?” she asked.
“My new mantra is stay cautiously optimistic, so I’m being cautiously optimistic in thinking that it’s about the competition,” I said.
She turned up the radio and we had a stoplight dance party in (cautiously optimistic) celebration over our story placing in the writing competition. The parking lot was virtually empty, so we got another killer spot in the front of the school. If I didn’t hate waking up so much in the morning, I would get here this early just to avoid having to deal with the parking lot.
When we walked inside the door, Mrs. Brandt let off a small confetti cannon, which scared the living daylights out of me. Grace and I both clung to each other until we realized that there was confetti raining down on us from Mrs. Brandt’s desk.
“Oh my goodness, that was a lot more alarming than I thought it would be,” she said. I brushed the confetti off the top of my head as she came to stand in front of us, her hands behind her back. “I’m so happy to announce … that you two have been chosen as finalists for the Indiana Student Journalism Association’s in-depth-reporting competition! You’ve been invited to attend their convention next month, where they will announce the winners.”
To Be Honest Page 18