Worst Nightmare
Dr. Gower had been kind enough to let us end our last therapy meeting twenty minutes early so I could go visit Becca and wouldn’t miss the bus back to camp. When I got up to leave, she came around her desk and gave me a tight hug, pulling away to say that she was proud of all that I had accomplished in therapy with her. She told me to keep writing in my journal and to stay strong, which I had promised that I would. Then she held me at arms length by my shoulders and told me that she would be an advocate for the camp and for Kelsey, and that I shouldn’t worry. “Everything will work out,” she had urged before letting me go. It was bittersweet saying goodbye, especially now that I didn’t know whether or not I would be able to return next year, but I was going to take her advice and think positive. All I could do now was hope for the best.
I exited her office into the waiting room and then pushed through the door that led out into the hallway. The walls on this level were stark white, the same color as the tile floors. The white was so bright that it was practically blinding as I followed a sign that pointed down the hallway to the psych ward. I had been in this hospital many times for therapy, but I had never seen much of the building. I always just walked in, got on the elevator and rode it up to the fourth floor. I knew that the psychologists shared a floor with the psych ward—which was only fitting—but that didn’t mean I had ever paid much attention to the psych ward itself.
Now, as I walked down the hallway, I was focusing on every little detail. This end of the hall was larger than the one where the offices were, and a lot less impersonal. There was a front desk and a locked door that separated the waiting room from the area where they kept the patients.
I was nervous as I stepped up to the desk and the nurse’s eyes landed on me. She narrowed them and pinched her lips together as she regarded me. “How can I help you?” she asked, her voice cold and monotone.
“Um, I’m here to visit someone. Becca—Rebecca Calloway.” I was thankful I had seen a glimpse of her credit card that day she had taken us to the movies or I wouldn’t have even known her last name.
“Name?”
I frowned, confused for a second before I realized she wanted my name. “Abby Montgomery.”
“Have a seat,” the nurse said, nudging her head toward the waiting area.
Nodding, I obliged and found a seat to wait in. While I waited I fiddled with the frayed edges of my shorts and picked at my nails. A few minutes later another nurse opened the door to the left of the receptionist desk and called my name.
I followed her back down a hallway with rooms on either side of me. Some doors were open, while others were shut. All of the patients I saw were adults and were wearing hospital issued t-shirts and pajama-looking bottoms. We walked through another door that we had to be buzzed into that was labeled, “Children’s Ward”. It was weird thinking of Becca as a child because even though she was fifteen, she seemed so much more mature for her age.
The nurse in front of me came to a stop in front of a closed door. “Here we are,” she murmured as she knocked on the door gently.
It was silent on the other side until someone said, “Come in.”
The nurse turned the knob and pushed the door open. She poked her head and said, “Your visitor is here,” and then opened the door wider for me to pass through into the small room.
Seeing me coming in, Becca tried to sit up in her bed, and was quickly assisted by a woman I recognized all too well; the woman with the cat-like green eyes and expensive taste who met with Dr. Gower right before my sessions started. The lady grabbed a pillow and propped it up behind Becca, then she looked at me. There was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes, and now that I saw her with Becca I noticed all of their similarities. The green eyes, the high cheekbones, and the heavily bowed lips were all the same. They even had the same shade of honey blonde hair.
“Well, I’ll let you two talk. I’m going to go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Push the button if you need a nurse, okay honey? I’ll be right back.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Becca’s forehead, leaving a lipstick mark where her lips had been.
Becca groaned and turned her head, rubbing at the mark. “Mom,” she whined, her cheeks flushing with color. It was nice to see a little red tint in her cheeks; without it she looked pale and ghostly under the florescent hospital lights. It reminded me of how purple and veiny her eyelids had been while we waited for the ambulance to arrive. At one point I had even begun counting the veins.
Becca’s mom click clacked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind us and leaving us alone. I twisted my hands together behind my back, not knowing what to say or where to begin. Luckily, Becca broke the silence first.
“Thanks for coming,” she said, cracking a small smile. “It’s good to see a friend.”
“Of course. I had to come and make sure you were okay.”
Becca nodded and then gestured toward the empty chair by her bed. “You can sit if you want.”
“Okay.” I continued wringing my hands together as I took a seat. “How are you feeling?” I asked, even though I knew it was a dumb question. How would I feel being stuck in a psych ward? They were probably intubating her and force feeding her. I had heard before that they do that to anorexia patients sometimes. I hoped they weren’t doing that to her.
“Never been better,” she lied. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
“Why wouldn’t I come?” I asked, taken aback by her statement.
She shrugged. She looked so scrawny and frail lying there—so delicate and breakable. “It had to be scary seeing me like that. I should’ve told you guys, but I was embarrassed and afraid.” She looked down, her hair shielding her face slightly.
“I know. You don’t have to explain. I didn’t tell you either. You just kind of found out. None of us are mad. We’re just worried about you.”
Becca took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I don’t know if she had expected me to be mad at her or something, but now she looked relieved. “Thanks, Abs.”
“You’re welcome. When do you get to leave the hospital?”
“I don’t know. I have a pretty bad concussion. I’m not even allowed to watch TV.” She groaned. “It’s so boring here. My parents want me to stay until I gain weight, but I just want to go home or go back to camp. I’m fine.”
I shook my head and reached for her hand. It was small and cold in mine. “You’re not fine, Becca. You had a heart attack. That’s serious. They’re thinking of canceling funding for the camp and shutting it down.”
Becca’s jaw dropped. “They can’t do that.”
“They can. Apparently after what happened last year, and now this year, a lot of the parents are thinking of pulling their kids out.”
Becca’s eyes lowered. “Poor Kelsey. It’s not her fault what happened to me and Allison.”
“I met Rachel,” I said suddenly. Becca glanced up and her eyes met mine. “She said that she hasn’t heard from Allison since she left camp. Have you?”
Becca looked down again and shook her head no.
“I wonder what happened to her,” I said more for myself than for her.
It was as if someone had opened floodgates. Suddenly Becca was dissolving into tears, squeezing my hand so tightly it hurt.
“What’s wrong?”
Becca continued crying. In between her sobs, she managed to choke out, “When I didn’t hear from her, I searched her name online and I saw her name and picture in an obituary. She died last December, right before her birthday.” She let out a dry laugh as tears streaked down her cheeks. “It was a heart attack. How ironic, huh?”
“Oh, Becca. I’m so sorry.” I stood up and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her as she cried. We stayed like that until Becca’s sobs finally dissipated.
I leaned away as she wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I’ll talk to my parents,” she murmured.
“About Allison?”
She shook her head. “No. About the camp. Maybe they can donate more money next year or talk to the other funders. Everyone shouldn’t suffer because of me.”
“No one is suffering because of you. Don’t say that.”
Becca lowered her head and sniffled. According to the clock on the wall, I only had another ten minutes to visit with her before I had to go catch the bus. I sat back down in the chair, just deciding to stay as long as I could until I had to go. We sat in silence for a while, Becca still sniffling and me lost in my thoughts.
Since the day I met Becca I had wanted to be like her, but I hadn’t realized how alike we actually were. I had been oblivious to her eating disorder, and had been blinded by all the glamorous aspects she beheld. In my mind, Becca was perfect, but in reality she was just a normal teenage girl with flaws—just like me. In the short time that I’d known her, she hadn’t looked nearly as helpless and vulnerable as she did right now, lying in the hospital bed. Her body, which I had once glorified for being so thin, now looked brittle and sickly. I finally understood. I understood why she had looked so shocked on that horrible night in the bathroom. I understood why she kept my secret, and maybe even why her mom had been crying and gone overtime in her appointment that one day. Maybe she had known, just like my parents had. I even understood why Becca was in therapy. It was like I had been asleep up until this very moment, when I finally opened my eyes and saw the world around me for what it truly was.
Lying in the hospital bed, covered by only a hospital gown and a thin blanket, Becca was the embodiment of my worst nightmare—weak and vulnerable. I had wrongly thought that by purging I was in control, but in reality my eating disorder made me weak. It was the disorder that made me vulnerable, and now that I was recovering I was more in control than I ever had been before.
It was almost time for me to go by the time her mom returned to the room. She gave me a weak smile as she said that Becca should probably get some rest and thanked me for visiting. Mrs. Calloway called a nurse to escort me out as I said goodbye. I gave Becca another hug and pulled out the journal I had gotten for her at one of the stores the day before after my run.
“I got you this. It helps to write down your feelings sometimes,” I explained, handing her the journal.
“Thanks, Abs. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll stay in touch.” I already had plans of texting or emailing her when I got home. I turned to leave, and just as I was pulling the door shut behind me, Becca called my name again.
“Will you ask Jess and Willow to come visit too?” She looked so hopeful that it nearly broke my heart.
“Of course,” I answered, and then I pulled the door shut behind me and headed back toward the waiting room, leaving my new friend behind to get the treatment she needed.