by Nicky James
“Do you work out? Perform regular physical activities that elevate your heart rate?”
“Not really.”
“I understand that you had two fainting episodes yesterday. One following a lengthy soak in a hot tub and the other following…” He side-eyed my parents, and I held my breath, waiting for the bomb to drop. “Some quite normal physical activities an average young man might partake in. Is that correct?”
My skin tingled as I caught my dad narrowing his eyes, and Mom clutched his arm from my peripheral vision. The doctor didn’t elude to what physical activities, but my parents were clearly drawing accurate conclusions based on his broad statement.
“That’s correct.”
Dr. Paiva nodded as he continued. “Arden, I think it’s important you understand how anorexia can affect your body. Because it’s my specialty, I want to focus on your heart since that is where we are seeing visible problems right now. Did you know that heart disease is the number one cause of death in people who suffer from anorexia nervosa?”
He waited for an answer, but all I could do was shake my head.
“Your test results show that you are presenting with symptoms already. Bradycardia is an abnormal slowing of your hearts rhythm. When that happens, blood flow is reduced to your organs, and they become weaker. It can cause low blood pressure—which you have—can make you feel weak, tired, faint, and in extreme cases, the dangerous low rate will cause your heart to shrink and eventually fail altogether.”
He paused again, letting that soak in.
“Do you know what an electrolyte imbalance is, Arden?”
“No.”
“Your body requires a certain balance of minerals to produce electrical currents that maintain your heart’s function. When you essentially starve yourself, those minerals aren’t present in the proper amounts, and it can cause your heart to misfire. This can severely endanger your life. Do you understand me? You are walking a thin line right now. Do you want to risk heart failure?”
Heart failure…
Heart failure…
Heart failure…
The high-pitched whine of the monitor rings through the air.
Commotion.
Panicked cries.
People moving all about.
I crack my eyelids, the effort almost more than I can manage. My body won’t move. Can’t move due to the onset of paralysis as it moves through my body. The drugs pumping into my system are battling it the best they can.
Ivory.
For a flash, when the cluster of bodies surrounding her bedside move, I catch a glimpse of her hair. Blonde like mine. Feathery soft. Apricots—except the smell is only an impression in my mind and not really present. The gentle curve of her dainty nose. Her matching freckles that mirror my own. Her skin, white. Lips, an unhealthy gray.
She isn’t moving.
“Clear!”
My body jerks when the harsh voice rips through the air followed by a weird, muffled pulse.
Ivory’s body jumps.
What is happening?
I open my mouth to ask, but nothing comes out. My tongue and lips refuse to work.
With everything I have, I try to pull myself upright. Something is wrong. I feel it in my bones.
She needs me.
She needs me.
“Arden?” The doctor’s voice brought me back to the present.
“I hear you.”
“I think you need professional intervention at this point. Not just counseling. We have many professionals ready to step in and guide you to a healthier lifestyle. Your symptoms are reversible. You need to make a food plan and work on increasing your caloric intake. I could set up a meeting with a dietician as well. We need to aggressively work on bringing up your weight and your food intake before it’s too late. I’ve suggested another twenty-four hours on IV fluids before we consider discharge, but Arden, I can’t in good conscience let you leave this hospital unless I know you are on board with helping yourself get better. Consider my available resources and your future.”
“I’ve called Carl Yemen already,” Mom interrupted. “He’ll be here to meet with Arden in the hospital tomorrow. Maybe he could collaborate with this dietician, and they can make a plan for Arden to follow at home.”
“Arden needs to be an active member in any meal planning or this will fail, Mrs. McMillan. I strongly advise Arden consider meeting with one of our psychiatrists as well.”
“Thank you for your concern, Doctor. We’ll discuss this with Mr. Yemen.”
It would fail regardless, but I couldn’t say that. The doctor’s haunting diagnosis and warnings rang through my head.
I didn’t want to be like this. All I wanted was to be free of this blinding fear.
By the time the doctor departed—with a promise to visit me again the following day—Mom and Dad decided it was time they head home as well. They’d left fifteen-year-old Luca in charge of all the kids at dinner time. He was responsible—to a point—but would need to be relieved of his duties soon before all hell broke loose.
Chapter Eighteen
Iggy
When I arrived at the hospital, I cautiously approached the nurses’ station which was located a handful of doors down from Arden’s room. The head nurse, Kora, a dark-skinned woman with spiral black curls spilling from a tight ponytail at the back of her head, and a tall, tight runner’s body sat behind the only manned computer. We’d known each other for many years.
The minute she saw me, her eyes bulged, and she whipped her head around toward the door to Arden’s room as she flew from behind the desk and barreled toward me at top speed.
“You can’t be here,” she hissed, backing me down the hall and around the corner into the small alcove where the bank of elevators was located. “That guy’s parents raised hell this morning.”
“I’m aware. They’re a little homophobic.”
“A little? You’d think you were a felon the way they talked about you.”
“I’m guessing they’re still here?”
“Yes. They’ve been here all day. Hovering and lording over everything. The poor kid. You’d think he was six and not twenty. I wish he’d put his foot down and kick them out.” Kora sighed and poked her head around the corner, glancing down the hall. “We can’t get him to eat anything, and I don’t think his parents are helping matters. I swear, I’ve seen anorexic cases before but never like this. Normally, patients who end up hospitalized are eager to go along with the meal plans to a degree because they know it’s their ticket out of here, but that kid—”
“He’s not a kid, and he’s not anorexic.”
Kora blanched.
Before she could contradict me, I held up a hand. “I need to talk with Arden. I’ll explain if and when I can. You’ll let me in when they go, right?”
Kora snorted and crossed her arms over her chest like I’d said the most ridiculous thing. “Please, like I said, the patient is twenty years old. If he wants you there, then I won’t stop you. We’re only making peace because they were ready to tear down walls and involve the board of directors if we didn’t.”
“Give me your pen.” I waved at the stylus hanging off the front pocket on her scrubs.
She pulled it out and passed it over. I took her hand and wrote my cell number on the inside of her wrist. “Text me when they leave. I’m gonna wander for a bit downstairs, but I’ll be in the building.”
“You got it.”
Kora returned to the nurses’ station as I hit the down button on the elevator. I wandered to the cafeteria first and bought a coffee since I’d missed out at Phoenix’s. Afterward, I wandered to the gift shop and scanned the aisles as I waited. It was less than a half an hour before Kora texted to let me know Arden’s parents had left.
Before heading upstairs, I picked out a small bouquet of fresh flowers from up near the front by the cash register and paid for them. Pacing myself, I returned to Arden’s floor. I wanted to make sure I’d given the McMillans enough time to ex
it the hospital. The last thing I needed was to cross paths with them.
Kora greeted me with a wink and a smile when I finally made it back upstairs.
“Is he alone?” I asked.
“Yup.”
I headed to his door and peeked inside. Arden lay back on his bed with an arm draped over his eyes. The bedsheet pooled around his waist, and his thin frame was lost in the oversized gown.
Rapping lightly on the door, I stepped inside as he lifted his head, scowling. When our gazes locked, his irritation melted into a brilliant smile that shone out his pale eyes and lit up his pallid cheeks, giving him a hint of color.
A full, thousand-watt smile. One he didn’t hide.
I stalled, lips parting at the gift he’d unknowingly given me.
The left side of his face didn’t respond the same way as the right, but it did nothing to cancel out the brilliant, almost angelic beauty of the man in front of me. Seeing it took my breath away.
Arden registered what he’d done a minute too late and ducked his head, scrambling to hide.
I jumped forward, snapping out of my daze when that smile fell. “Don’t you dare.”
I scurried toward him and dropped the flowers on the bed before taking his face between my palms, pulling his head up.
“Don’t you dare hide from me. Never. You hear me? Never.”
Stroking his cheeks, I admired the shock and uncertainty behind his pale blue eyes. Something about Arden tugged at my heart like nothing else and I couldn’t contain it.
Crashing our lips together, I kissed him like we hadn’t seen each other in a decade. It was consuming and possessive and sweet all at the same time. I couldn’t explain in words what his smile had done to me, so I let my emotions guide me. His tongue flicked against the seam of my mouth, and I invited him in, savoring his flavor, relishing our connection. The velvety sweep of his tongue, the warm, tantalizing flavor, the subtle hitch in his breathing all pulled me under further. Arden relaxed against me with a contented sigh as his tiny, cold fingers clung to my shirt.
We came apart slowly and reluctantly, hovering close, both a little breathless. I studied his face as I reached behind me and retrieved the discarded flowers.
“For you,” I said, presenting them with a grin.
His eyes smiled even though his mouth fought the urge. He took them and buried his nose, inhaling.
“They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to.”
“I did. How are you?” I asked, finding a place to display the bouquet on his cluttered bedside table.
“You just missed my parents.”
“I know. On purpose. The nurses are all turning a blind eye to me right now. There is no reason I can’t be here unless you specifically say I can’t. Your parents have no official say. But I guess they caused quite a stir earlier, didn’t they?”
“You have no idea.”
“Did you get an earful?”
“Not as much as Phoenix. Mostly I tuned them out, acted sick and too tired to stay awake for long. So they prayed over me because I was unresponsive. However, they expressly forbid me to carry on with you. Shocking.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? Don’t apologize for them. They don’t want to see outside their beliefs. I already made peace with the idea that someday they won’t speak to me anymore. Maybe this will be the tipping point, and I’ll officially be ostracized. Hell, the church already banned me from coming. My parents would rather turn their back on their own child than on their religion, so I have no hope of changing their minds.”
“That’s why Mama changed churches. For me. So I could continue to attend in a safe environment where I would be accepted. There are all kinds of changes happening today, Arden. Many churches have decided to become inclusive and more openminded about sexuality.”
“Father Hammond is old fashioned. I can’t see that happening.”
“Maybe someday the Catholic church will come around too. Who knows, stranger things have happened.”
“Maybe. Until that day, my parents won’t budge.”
Arden’s shoulders slumped, and his weariness showed clearer with the heavy topic. Maybe he’d stood up for himself against his family and lived openly gay under their roof, but it couldn’t be easy when the people who were supposed to love you only tolerated you and didn’t honestly accept you for who you were.
“How did the tests go today?” I asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.
“Not great.”
When he didn’t go on, I reached out and tipped his chin up. His eyes were full of defeat, and it was a terrifying notion.
“Not great how?”
“The cardiologist is concerned. My numbers aren’t good. Everything’s not good. They were talking about intervention and possibly putting me on medications.”
“We got interrupted earlier.” I stroked the sharp edge of his jaw and watched the sweep of his delicate eyelashes brush his cheeks when he lowered his lids. “Was I right? About why you don’t eat?”
He pressed his lips together, and his gaze shifted sideways. Stiffening and swallowing hard, Arden stayed silent.
“You’re afraid to eat, aren’t you? You’re afraid to get sick again.”
“I’m not afraid,” he snapped, jerking from my hold and shoving me back. “I’m not a child. I’m a grown man, and I make my own choices. This is a choice.”
I caught his rising panic and latched on. There was no way I was going to let him think I was as gullible as everyone else. I saw him. I saw the truth.
I knelt on the bed and took hold of his shoulders, not allowing him to escape or push me away. “Being afraid isn’t a weakness. Is that what you think? You think because you’re an adult you should be exempt from feeling fear? Let me tell you something. I’m scared all the time, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. It’s human nature. Every day I’m on the job, and I arrive at a scene where someone’s life hangs in the balance, I’m afraid. What if I can’t save them? What if I do something wrong despite all my training? What if we don’t make it to the hospital fast enough? Every. Single. Time. It’s an undercurrent in my job but I’m aware of it, and that fear pushes me to do the best I can.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me that not eating is a choice. Tell me to my face because I don’t believe you. Don’t lie to me, Arden. Dishonesty hurts more than you know.”
His jaw tightened, his small body trembled and his pale blue eyes pooled as I spoke, but no matter what I said, he couldn’t own it. His desperation to hold onto this conviction made me wonder just how many times in his life he’d been made to believe he was weak or how many times his control had been stripped away.
“Arden. If you keep on this path, you’ll end up killing yourself. Do you understand that? Do you hear me? Your body is shutting down. If you don’t give it fuel, it can’t keep going. You’ll die.” I traced a thumb along his pouting lower lip. “I don’t want to watch you die. I want us to go somewhere. I want us to be something. Arden. Please.”
“I can’t,” he whispered around a sob. A tear tracked down his cheek. “I can’t make myself. I’ve tried. I can’t. You don’t understand.”
“You can’t eat because you’re afraid.” It wasn’t a question, but I was requesting confirmation, acknowledgment.
Honesty.
He needed to say it out loud and own it.
His chest constricted on a sob and he fell forward against me, clinging to my shirt with a death grip. “All I can see are all the ways it will make me sick. If I force myself to eat, then my body rejects it right away, and I throw everything up. It happens every time. For days, I’ll have panic attacks because I’ll be certain I’m getting sick. It consumes me. I can’t escape it. It’s getting worse, Iggy, not better. I don’t know how to fix it.”
I squeezed him to my chest as he explained through broken cries and shuddered breaths.
“Arden, you’ve reached a point where the risk is too great. Don’t you see? In order to avoid getting sick,
you’re slowly killing yourself. You need to tell someone the truth. You need proper help.” I pulled his face up and wiped at his wet cheeks as I focused on his bloodshot eyes. “I don’t want to lose you when I just found you.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
I kissed his forehead and settled on the bed properly, tugging him onto my lap so I could hold him. He went willingly and curled in a ball with his face against my chest.
“You need to be honest about what’s really going on. You aren’t getting proper treatment because the doctors don’t know what they’re treating. Anorexia is not the same thing at all. It might look the same to all these people but what you feel inside is totally different.”
“They will think I’m ridiculous. I don’t even think my parents will believe me at this point.”
“We’ll make them believe you.”
“We?”
“Yes we, because I’ll be here with you, if not by your side, then close by.”
I drew gentle circles over his back, noting the rise and fall of each one of his breaths, trailing fingers over the ridges of each protruding knob along his spine. My mind raced while I sorted out what to do about this discovery and who would be best suited to help Arden get the right kind of help. I feared he wouldn’t be honest with his doctors or parents and the result would be catastrophic.
Arden’s soft voice tore me from my thoughts.
“I wasn’t always this bad. When Ivory died, I was so sick I didn’t really process it at first. They delayed her funeral for a week so I could attend, but even then, I was still recovering in the hospital and was released for the service only. When I got home, and everything became real, I didn’t want to eat because I just wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to be alive. I can’t even describe to you how empty I felt back then.”
“Ivory was your twin. I can’t imagine.”
“It was like losing a limb or like walking around with organs missing. I was hollow and empty.”
And I knew from what Phoenix had told me, Arden hadn’t been given proper counseling.
“My parents would shove food at me, and it always gave me this unsettling feeling inside. My skin prickled and I was never able to eat much before my brain took over and warned me away from it. Sometimes, I’d panic so badly, I’d throw up everything I ate.