t h i r t y - s e v e n
“Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are our own fears.”
—Rudyard Kipling
Dad’s livid. Really livid.
“Then that article with your yearbook photo was true? I dismissed it for regular tabloid trash. Why would you do this to yourself? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
I want to crawl into a hole and die.
We’re in the living room. He’s pacing. Is this what he does on Capitol Hill? Pacing back and forth, screaming at his interns before he goes on Fox News and speaks with a talking head, then does the same thing before going on CNN, and again with whoever is filming a video for Politico?
Mom sits on a chair across from me.
Fine. Don’t sit by me. I must be contagious.
I’ll take up the whole couch. What do I care?
“I just want to know why this was kept from me,” Dad says. He runs his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair. He looks old all of a sudden. I notice the wrinkles around his eyes. The firmness of his neck has begun to go soft around his collar. “Especially when I have a campaign to run,” he continues. “What if news gets out that our daughter has a mental illness?”
“It’s an eating disorder,” Mom says. “Forget the campaign for a minute.”
“It’s certainly something that has to be addressed and taken care of immediately.”
I cross my arms. “God forbid you lose points in the polls.”
“Why are you being so awful to us when we want to help you?”
“Because you’re talking about me like I’m a political problem that needs to be fixed,” I say. “It’s not like your campaign hasn’t had something to do with this.”
Mom turns to him. “I had my suspicions, but I thought maybe it would correct itself. I was trying to help her without stressing you out. It just wasn’t enough.”
“So you thought you’d just do this yourself?” Dad says, looking at both of us. He shakes his head. “What happened to helping each other get over the hurdles?”
“By getting into each other’s business all the time?” I shout. “I hate the way you’re so ruthless that you control other people to control me. I hate the way you try to solve things that aren’t even problems. I hate the way you make me say what you want, dress me how you want, while I’m the one who gets ridiculed. I’d rather die. My problems are not your problems.”
Dad sits down next to me on the couch and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Liv, I love you. You’re my baby. My daughter. I don’t understand what’s happening to you.” He turns to Mom. “Do you?”
“Of course,” she says. “She has an eating disorder. It’s common for teenage girls.” Mom looks at me. Tears are welling up in her eyes. I hate making Mom cry. It makes me feel like a failure. “I just didn’t think it was this bad. I should have monitored you better. I should have asked you instead of tiptoeing around.”
“This isn’t about the campaign, Liv. We want to help,” Dad says, turning to Mom. “So where do we take her for treatment? Do we go somewhere right now?”
Mom rubs her temple like she’s starting to get a headache. “I don’t think tonight is the time to go anywhere. I have some treatment facilities in mind. I’ll contact one of them in the morning. She may have to be admitted.”
“So you’re going to have me locked up?” I start to stand up, but Dad shoots me a look that means sit down. “Why can’t you talk to me? I’m right here!”
“Stop. We’re not going to have you locked up,” Mom says. “We’re going to get you help. You’ll probably have to stay somewhere a few days. You’ll get therapy. There might be medication. It depends on the severity of what’s happening.”
“Medication for what?” I ask.
I don’t want to be numbed out on pills.
“Depression. Anxiety. I don’t know all of what they prescribe and what for. You need professional help, Liv. This has been going on for way too long.” Mom gets up, walks over to the couch and hugs me. “It’ll be difficult, but we’ll be your support.”
“This can’t get out,” Dad says. “You’ll stay here tonight. I can’t have you running around causing problems. We have to handle this carefully.”
“I’m running around causing problems? I wasn’t the one who walked up to our table. Believe me. I’m not interested in making my problems your problems.”
“What was that girl saying about a boat party?” Dad asks.
“It was nothing. A school thing,” I say. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“I don’t remember that,” Mom says.
Dad agrees. “She didn’t look like the kind of girl who does school things.”
“Will you both just stop?” I yell. “It’s embarrassing enough that you’re suddenly controlling my life more than you already have been.”
“Liv, do you think we want you to be sick?” Mom says.
How can I answer that? If she knew I had a problem, she should have pushed harder. The other part of me feels like a jerk for lying to her about how badly I’ve let my eating habits take control of my life. And Dad? He’s been so wrapped up in the campaign that I’ve practically been invisible to him the whole time. Except for when I’m in the press.
“No,” I say. “But I don’t think you know what’s going to make me better.” I stand up from the couch. I need to be alone and think. “I need to go upstairs.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Or you can kiss your future of going to an art school goodbye.” His words gut me. How could he hold that over me right now?
“What do I care?” I say, calling his bluff. “You were never going to let me go. That’s just a carrot you dangle over my head to get me to do whatever you want.”
Dad looks flabbergasted. He starts to open his mouth, but he doesn’t end up saying anything. How did our relationship get so broken? How did I get so broken?
I run up the stairs, wiping the tears from my eyes. I’m on lockdown at my own house. I’m desperate here. There’s going to be surveillance everywhere from here on out. I’m not going to start gaining weight to please my parents. Not after I worked so hard to reach my goal weight. I just wish I’d been more careful that day on the boat.
I throw myself onto my bed, fantasizing about how Cristina Rossi is going to wake up one day with her fake eyelashes glued shut. If she hasn’t told people already, Cristina will. She’ll brag. Everyone is going to know my personal problems, and I won’t be able to hide. I pull out my phone—they haven’t taken that away from me yet—and text Jasmine. Her advice would be good to have now. She’s levelheaded. She had everything so together during high school. How did she do it? How did she survive?
LIV: Hi Jas
LIV: I know I haven’t talked to you in a while. And now I really need to.
LIV: Just personal stuff. Girl to girl. Nothing about you and Royce.
LIV: I’m just stuck. Really stuck.
House arrest sucks. I feel so isolated. So alone. It makes me feel even worse. I think about calling Sam, but there’s no way I want him to know. But then again, maybe he does by now. Maybe by tomorrow, everyone will. Maybe I’ll just send out a press release to Politico myself. Daughter of Congressman Driven to Purge Over Constant Self-Defeat. Then I can do the talk show circuit and write a book.
That’s the formula, right?
Next up, Antonia.
I don’t want to text her for some reason. Writing things down makes them feel more permanent. More real. I call Antonia’s number, hoping she doesn’t think I’m asking her for a ride again. When she picks up the phone, I can hear her mother chatting in the background.
“Hey, Liv. Hold on a sec. Let me go somewhere I can hear you.” A moment passes before I hear her voice again. “Sorry. My mom’s back from tour.”
“Can you talk?” I ask. “I can’t leave the house, and I really need someone to talk to right now. I’d invite you here, but my parents won’t let anyone come over either.”
“You’re under house arrest?” She asks the question like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. My parents never ground me. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’ve been caught,” I say.
“What did you do? You better have not snuck out without me.”
“Purging,” I barely whisper. “Mom and Dad. They know. It really, really sucks. Cristina Rossi said something in front of them at dinner.”
Antonia scoffs at the mention of Cristina’s name. “She’s seriously America’s biggest loser. How could she do that to you?”
I continue with the story. “And Zach was there with her, trying to act all cool. It was awful. I wanted to crawl into a cave and hibernate for a million years.”
“What did your parents do? I bet they freaked.”
“Dad was the worst. He’s so concerned about his campaign. Forget me. I’m pretty much on lockdown. They want to send me away to an eating disorder program. They’re probably setting up therapy appointments right now. It’s so bad.”
“So you don’t have any say in what happens?”
“Since when have I ever? Even if I wanted to die right now, I’d have to ask permission. They don’t care about my thoughts. They make the decisions.”
“Don’t talk like that—I care. And don’t make those jokes either. They really aren’t funny.” I use my sarcasm as a shield, but Antonia sees right through my act.
“I know,” I say. “I love you.”
“You need to be rescued. Literally. From your family. I can’t even imagine how trapped you’re feeling. You need to get out of there.”
“I wish I could just leave. I wish I could go anywhere.”
“It’s not like escaping is hard. You just need to climb out a window the way everyone else has been doing since the seventh grade.”
I’m hesitant, but her idea feels right. Why should I let my parents control every waking second of my life? Freedom is the right move. I can at least get out and go somewhere for one evening. What more could it hurt, right? Besides, I have only this last night of freedom before my family has me locked up somewhere. I tell Antonia that I’ll go.
“It better be somewhere fun,” I say.
I need to forget all this mess. I need to have a good time.
“You know it.”
Antonia promises to text me when she’s ready to pick me up.
Just when the hour finally comes to sneak out the window, I get a text from Sam. I sit on the edge of the bed and answer him while Antonia waits for me just down the street.
SAM: Bad news :-(
SAM: Nina doesn’t want to go out anymore
LIV: What? Why?
LIV: That sucks. I’m sorry.
SAM: She says she doesn’t want to get serious.
SAM: Should I quit the debate team? It’s gonna be awkward.
SAM: What do you think?
I think about Sam’s situation. I’m in no state to be giving anyone advice, but I don’t want to see him give up something he loves doing for someone else. I don’t want him to end up like me with Zach. I should have never wasted my time with him.
LIV: Don’t quit.
LIV: It’s your life.
SAM: :-)
SAM: What are you doing? Want to hang out?
I’d give anything not to be locked up here right now, but I can’t explain what’s going on. If Mom and Dad make good on their threats and force me to go somewhere for treatment, I’ll eventually have to tell him something. But, right now, Sam needs me to be a good friend—a better friend than I’ve been most of this year. I should focus on him.
LIV: Sick unfortunately :-(
LIV: Might be out of commission for a few days.
SAM: What’s wrong? The breakup?
SAM: He’s not worth suffering over.
LIV: It’s just the flu or something.
LIV: Don’t worry. Talk soon xoox
I’m so embarrassed he even knows about the latest disaster that was my breakup with Zach. I didn’t give him all the details. Only Antonia knows.
Sam would have wanted to beat him up or tell him off, and that would’ve caused even more drama. I was hoping to keep my breakup with Zach as low-key as possible, but I guess Cristina couldn’t help herself.
Why did he have to just text me? I hate lying to him. But I can’t include him in this. I need Sam to think I’m just that girl on a boat sailing with him around the world. I can’t ruin our dream. Sorry, Sam, I say to myself. You don’t need to see this. You won’t. Not unless you’re going where I’m going tonight. I suddenly go rigid with the thought.
I have to risk it. I can’t stay in this house one more second.