by Lisa Eugene
“About 26.2 percent of Americans, or about one in four adults in a given year.”
He chuckled lightly. “Why am I not surprised that you know that? I think people just don’t talk about it.”
“Yeah, it’s hard. It’s hard to talk about it even in therapy. I feel that people will judge me, that they’ll see how crazy I am.”
The hand on my hip squeezed gently. “You’re not crazy, Stats. You have a medical condition that needs treatment. I know your illness is a big part of your life, but you can’t let it define who you are. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, sexy…I could go on and on.” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes, smiling. “I think you’re biased.”
“Maybe, but that’s how I see you.”
Many times I’d tried to see myself through his eyes. He heaped praise on my figure, yet I only saw an overweight cow. He talked of my strength, beauty, courage, and endurance—things I’d often found lacking in myself. I knew I had determination and the ability and drive to work hard. I was smart and had an aptitude for retaining information. Those were things had I focused on.
My whole life I’d fought to be the best at everything I did, but I never felt good about myself. It always seemed to be an uphill battle because I considered myself fundamentally flawed, like I wasn’t properly equipped. It was like I was going to war with a pocket knife when others around me had machine guns and heavy artillery.
This man lying beside me was an incredible human being. I couldn’t imagine loving him more. Every day he amazed me, every day he made me believe more and more in a future I could almost reach out and touch. I’d completely disassembled in front of him. I’d allowed my emotions to shatter like glass flung from great heights. And surprisingly, I was still here. He was still here. I felt somehow lighter, freer. Ironically, more in control. More in control because I’d allowed myself to fall apart. Go figure.
I hadn’t given in to my compulsion to purge, and my world hadn’t ended. The sun hadn’t fallen out of the sky. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already worried about the next time, about gaining weight, but I had to take one moment at a time, one episode at a time. That was something Amy and I had been working on in our individual therapy: focusing on the here and now. Perhaps you needed to allow yourself to fall apart so that you could begin to put yourself back together.
I stared into Dex’s handsome face, absorbing the brilliant cut of his jaw and cheekbones. His eyes were discerning, stubbornly gray, yet calmly tender. Just thinking about everything he’d done for me made me want to weep all over again. He’d been through so much himself, and I couldn’t help feeling a slew of guilt at causing such tumult in his life.
“I’m sorry for not telling you the truth, for keeping my past from you,” I said softly.
He cleared his throat and shifted positions. Something darkened his eyes. “I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness. I’ve kept things from you, too.”
I listened, finding it hard to believe. He’d told me about his abandonment, about his time in foster care, and his subsequent adoption.
“Stats, I was married once.”
The breath froze solid in my chest. Okay, that I did not see coming. I forced myself to breathe in, to award him the same patience he’d awarded me. I could tell by the look on his face that this was not easy for him to bring up. In a flat tone, he told me about his brief marriage to Amanda and how she’d tragically lost her battle with brain cancer. He also told me how she’d lied about the diagnosis, a deception that had left him deeply wounded and bereft. It became clear why he was passionate about investing in the company working on the brain cancer medicine.
“I kept thinking that if I’d known sooner, I could’ve helped her. Maybe she would’ve had a better chance. I was devastated that she’d lied to me. I felt betrayed in a way.”
“I’m so sorry. It seemed to be a pretty aggressive tumor. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”
He nodded solemnly. “I think that’s why I freaked out when I realized you weren’t being honest with me. I understand that now, but I’d started to feel that same sense of impending doom, like I was going to lose you. I couldn’t handle it,” he whispered. His palm cupped my cheek. “That’s why I left. Forgive me.”
My entire body sighed softly. “There’s nothing to forgive, Dex.” I shook my head in wonder. “So many secrets. Mine. Yours. We try to protect ourselves from the very people who only want to save us.”
“It’s hard to put yourself out there, to be vulnerable.”
I nodded. “We all have our facades.”
“I don’t want any between us. I love you for who you are, Stats.”
I nodded, feeling my eyes fill.
He cleared his throat again, looking pained. “While we’re divulging secrets, I should tell you that Dex Blakewell isn’t my given name. I legally took the last name of my adoptive parents.”
“Oh,” I said, a little surprised. “What’s your real name?”
He hesitated. “Don’t laugh.”
Oh, shit. He shouldn’t have said that. The look on his face already had my lips pulling. “I won’t.”
“Okay,” he said, but eyed me skeptically. “You’re already laughing!” he accused when an unruly smile sneaked out.
“Just tell me.”
“Dexter Kuchelmeister.”
I bit my lip. Hard. My shoulders shook. I could see mirth light his eyes and that did me in.
“Seriously?” I eked out. He so did not look like a Dexter Kuchelmeister.
He nodded. “It’s Swiss. Well, the last name anyway. I changed it legally when I was eleven.” His face split into a wide grin.
“I—ah—” The dam broke. I stuffed my head into my pillow and lost it. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t even so much his name—okay, it was, but it was his delivery. I could hear him chuckling beside me.
When I could maintain a somewhat straight face, I lifted my head. “Dexter?”
He shrugged. “I was always called Dex for short. I just changed that, too.”
“I see.”
“And one other thing while we’re at this,” he said.
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can take any more confessions today. I might have to call the nurse for more medication first.”
He laughed, a rich, throaty sound that melted my insides like butter. He took a deep breath then grimaced. “When God gave out rhythm and horniness…well, he may have skimped a little on the rhythm.”
I gasped, inhaling my mock horror. “You mean you can’t dance?”
He shook his head, looking chagrinned. “I can. Just not…good. I’m probably somewhere between a spastic chicken and a goofy guerrilla.”
His boyish expression left me giggling. I schooled my face to look worried. “What about the horniness?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, I definitely got extra servings of that.”
“Whew!” I exhaled an exaggerated breath of relief.
We stared at each other, grinning like fools. We were no longer in the hospital on a psych ward, but back in my apartment on the couch hanging out, being silly. I eased into his arms and gently kissed his lips. It was unbelievable how good this man made me feel, how he took all my broken pieces, fitted them together and saw something amazing, something precious. I was madly in love with Dexter Kuchelmeister! I started giggling again and he slapped my ass.
“What about you?” he asked. “Anything else I should know?”
“I don’t think so. With you I feel like an open book. This has been a week for confessions.”
His looked puzzled and I continued. “I had a talk with Carla.”
“Carla? From school?”
“Yeah. She came to visit with some other friends. I can’t get into what we talked about, but I never really liked her. She was always sarcastic and disparaging, especially to John. She constantly teased him about his new girlfriend.”
“Huh, I think I noticed at the Christmas party.” He swept a lo
ck of hair behind my ears.
“I think he felt so insecure that he made up some story about his girlfriend being a model.”
Dex balanced his head on his elbow. There was humor in his eyes.
“A model?”
“A lingerie model,” I added. His dimple flashed.
“Was she at the Christmas party? I don’t remember seeing him with a date.”
“No,” I replied. “I never liked Carla, but I think I misjudged her.”
Dex’s expression grew serious, his brows pulling together in contemplation. “Carla is also in running for valedictorian, isn’t she?”
I nodded. “She never seemed to care about it, though.”
“Huh,” he grunted absently. “Stats, do you have any idea who could’ve set you up? Who could’ve told Dr. Leon about the equipment in your locker?”
Shaking my head, I flipped onto my back, my gaze hitting the ceiling. “No. I’ve been through it many times in my head. I’m not close to anyone at the school, really. No one knew the code to my locker combination. I keep all my passwords and private info on a file on my laptop. I’m the only one with access to my computer.”
“What about Tina, Monika, or John? Did you ever share it with them? Maybe they could have told someone?”
“No, but I’m sure this is Rhonda’s fault.”
His head rocked up and down. “Oh, I definitely think she had a hand in this. I’m just wondering if there was anyone else who’d gain from your expulsion.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. Rhonda has a lot of friends. She’s very manipulative. She tried to get Monika to say that I was threatening her.”
“Monika? Are they friends?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that, but I don’t really know. Monika can be weird sometimes.”
He scratched his jaw, then place the flat of his hand on my abdomen. My muscles quivered from the warmth.
“Would you mind if I spoke to your friends about the incident? Maybe they can give me some perspective. Maybe they’ll know something.”
I nodded, but I didn’t think they’d really be able to help. They hadn’t been able to shed any more light on what had happened. Perhaps hiring a lawyer was the best idea. I’d have to figure out a way to pay Dex back. I told him I’d agree to it, silencing him with my lips when he protested about repayment.
A noise at the door drew my attention. My parents stood just inside the room. Dex’s entire body turned to granite beneath me. This was an unusual time for Dex to be visiting. He usually came later, after my parents left. I sat up quickly, grabbing my glasses from my bedside table. A blush spread over my skin as I imagined the sight Dex and I must’ve made. We’d been lying together on the bed, fully dressed, but the intimacy was unmistakable.
My father’s face turned purple with anger. He approached the bed, glaring at me.
“What the hell is he doing here?” he demanded.
To say that our relationship had been strained over the past month would’ve been an understatement. When my parents visited, we discussed everything except what was staring us in the face. My father ranted about school and the unfairness of my expulsion. He spent his time trying to figure out alternate ways to get me into the Mayo Clinic. Right now, though, he looked positively livid.
I returned his stare. “Dex is my guest. He’s visiting me.”
“Have you not learned, girl? I want him out of here, now!”
“No,” I answered firmly. Dex hadn’t moved from his spot. He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by my father. If anything, he looked lethally calm as he observed the interaction.
“Either he goes, or we’re leaving! He’s the reason you’re in this…place! I refuse to share the same space with him,” my father raged.
At that, Dex sat up, grasping my chin gently and turning me to face him. His eyes glowed with barely restrained anger.
“I don’t want you upset. I’ll leave.”
I placed a hand on his forearm, staying him, then turned back to my father. My entire life, this man had exerted power over me, mentally and physically. I couldn’t start to take control of my life if I continued to submit to his influence. I thought of the many times “yes, Daddy” had automatically fallen off my tongue. It was a built-in response, a reflex, words designed to please him, to make myself feel worthy of a love I had to earn.
He saw me as broken, flawed, diseased. I remembered being forced to pull my clothes off, to stand in front of the mirror in his study and stare at myself—my cuts. All the while, he’d call me ugly, deranged, tell me I was the way I was because I had no control. I’d learned to see myself through his eyes.
I was a disappointment, even more so now that I wasn’t going to become a doctor, or get the prestigious position at the Mayo Clinic. If I was going to make progress, I needed to find my own self-worth, maybe find that woman Dex saw inside me. I turned to my father.
“Goodbye. Thank you for coming,” I said evenly.
I thought my father’s head was going to explode. Rage carved a trench in his face. His palms balled into fists as he took a step toward me. I jerked back, anticipating the blow, the pain. My mother inhaled sharply, the sound swirling around the room as Dex lunged in front of me, coming face to face with my father. Everything happened so fast I barely had time to process it. Everyone froze, the two men at a stand-off. The air in the room crackled as electricity sizzled between them. The seconds stretched out and my heart leaped into my throat.
My father finally stepped back. He stalked from the room, yelling to my mother. “Let’s go!”
When she didn’t fall into step beside him, he stopped at the door, turning to her with a look of annoyance. “I said let’s go!”
My mother straightened her spine and stared back at him. “I came to visit my daughter. That’s what I intend to do.”
My father’s lips firmed angrily. He looked from my mother to me, then sent a long scowl in Dex’s direction. Without another word, he left the room.
I sucked in a shaky breath, realizing that my body was trembling. My mother stepped close and wrapped her arms around me, delivering one of her famous hugs. I felt Dex’s hand cradle the back of my head. He leaned in.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded, my face scrubbing my mother’s coat.
“I’m going to let you have some time with your mom. I’ll get started on what we talked about. I’ll be back later, okay?”
I nodded again, wondering briefly if he was planning on going after my dad. He met my mother’s gaze and gave her a small, dimpled smile before he walked out.
When he was gone, my mother pulled back and looked at me. There was an independence coloring her blue eyes I’d never seen before.
“He’s a fine young man,” she declared.
I nodded quietly, sinking back into her comforting hug.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dex
I waited outside Washington Memorial Hospital in the cold. Tina had agreed to meet with me after her shift. I was hoping to glean additional information on the events surrounding Alexa’s expulsion. John was meeting me at a local bar in an hour for a drink. Hopefully, I could pick his brain, too.
The several messages I’d left Monika so far had gone unanswered. It was hard to believe that no one knew anything. Students talked, and especially about an event as sensational as a fellow classmate’s expulsion. Maybe I could find out who Rhonda’s closest friends were. That would be a start. A few days ago, I’d hired an attorney who’d already spoken to Alexa and contacted the school. Hopefully with some pressure, the board would be more cooperative.
It must’ve been change-of-shift because staff poured out of the hospital. I didn’t see Tina in the hubbub, but I had no trouble spotting the thin blonde in a wool coat with bright red lipstick. Rhonda was alone this time, her steps determined and hurried. Instead of cutting off her path like I’d done the last time, something made me stay in the background. I was thankful for the crowd that allowed me to blend in. She headed
across the street, approaching a building I assumed was hospital housing, from the huge crest on the glass doors.
A movement beyond the glass caught my eye. Curious, I sprinted behind her when the light changed, keeping a careful distance. A young man waited for her in the lobby of the building. I wondered if that was the reason she hurried. She didn’t seem pleased, though, when the young man pulled her into his arms for a long kiss. She returned the kiss without enthusiasm, then quickly pulled away. There was something in her expression that jolted my memory. Like a curtain drawn up, I suddenly remembered where I’d seen her. I watched as they exchanged a few words, then the young man walked through the glass doors.
I checked my watch, wondering if I’d missed Tina. The young man exited and we collided head-on. With a startled grunt, he stepped back and stared up at me, confused.
“Hi, John,” I greeted.
Out of suffering
have emerged the strongest souls
—Khalil Gibran
Alexa
I started to look forward to my therapy sessions, especially my individual time with Amy. Group was still a chore, but had become less onerous. Over the last week, I’d journaled so much I’d almost filled my spiral notebook. Amy was immensely pleased. I almost expected her to give me a sticker or a balloon after each session.
Today we talked more about confronting my emotions, about experiencing them. A lot of my anxiety came from trying to block what I was feeling and the fear that I wouldn’t be able to. I’d been taught to hide, to stifle all the emotions churning inside me. It had been like trying to keep a lid on a boiling pot. My fear had always been of losing control, of spilling over. Amy encouraged me to feel and analyze what was happening as I experienced my panic attacks.
She urged me to listen to what the emotions were telling me about myself. We’d focused on my thinking patterns, and behaviors that triggered my attacks. Recognizing the triggers was the first step in combating the suffocating sensations. Her aim was to help me look at my fears in a more realistic light, and hopefully break the cycle.
I knew one big trigger for me was fighting the urge to purge and the accompanying anxiety. Over the last few weeks, we’d delved into my distorted relationship with food and my dysfunctional beliefs about weight, dieting, and body shape. We’d explored my attitudes about eating and the correlation between self-worth and weight.