33
Alina
After convincing Paisley, Siobhán, and Roxie that I was feeling much better, they reluctantly let me out of their sight. But not without my promising to call if I needed anything—and they meant any little thing—before they headed down to Lulu’s for a night of drinking and dancing with the members of Ullapool and Douse.
It was only after dinner, once they had come back to the hotel and found Roxie and me in my room, did they realize that Roxie had indeed covered for me.
“What’s going on Ali? You know you can always talk to us,” Paisley says, once I invite them inside. Again, I had managed to finagle taking the single-occupancy hotel room. Knowing it was time, I decided to open up about my battle with bulimia.
“You’re right,” I admit, the four of us curled up on my queen-sized bed.
“What happened back there?” Shiv asks, her face reflecting concern. “I saw you crying but by the time I could make it back to the table, you and Rox were already headed out the door. And then we got her text, so we came here.”
“I had a moment of weakness today,” I blurt. “I took some laxatives, and I regretted it immediately. I freaked. I was so pissed at myself for it, and I sort of lost it.”
“Why would taking laxatives upset you—” Paisley cuts herself off, then covers her mouth. I see her eyes start to water. “Oh Alina, no.”
“Yeah,” I say, letting my shoulders sag in defeat with the admission.
“I wondered, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to pry or accuse, although maybe I should have?” Paisley adds, and I feel awful she’d think that.
“No,” I place my hand on her knee.
“I knew something was going on, too,” Roxie says. “I wasn’t sure though, and after our talk at the photoshoot, I guess I figured you were working on things and I didn’t want to make things worse or argue. I’m so sorry, Ali. I should have asked outright, too.”
“Don’t apologize, please. Trust me, there was nothing you guys could have done. I became very good at hiding it, and I would have just denied it, anyway. It took me a long time to get to where I am today, to be able to admit that I’m having issues.” I pause thinking of my next words.
“You can trust us, Ali,” Roxie says, encouraging me, and I nod.
“I know.” I laugh nervously. “I’m stupid for waiting this long.” I let out a deep breath, and continue. “I’ve been fighting my weight off and on since I was thirteen. At first, I’d eat then throw up if I was too full and wanted a dessert or something, but then one day it changed. It wasn’t just a trick I could do to make room for seconds anymore. It became about the high, the feeling of control I had for once in my life. I had a shitty childhood, but I don’t want to get into that tonight…”
“No pressure. You tell us whatever you’re ready to, when you’re ready to tell it, and how or if we can help,” Roxie says, and I smile, knowing it’s true. My friends would do anything for me, just as I would for them.
In the end, we somehow wound up sitting side by side on my bed, talking for hours. I opened up about my battle and my recovery, as well as my relapses. We talked about the tools I’m using to help myself, and why tonight felt like such a major setback. I wanted them to know and understand the person I was, and the healthier person I’m becoming, and how having them in my life has helped, and continues to. I wanted them to know that I was still—and always would be—a work in progress, but how I would always keep fighting, even times like tonight when I fucked up. I assured them I will fuck up, but I’ll also always work my hardest to bounce back. Tears were shed, as well as laughter, as admissions and revelations were made from each of us about lives, our own hang-ups, how we see ourselves, and—best of all—how important we are to each other. By the time I insisted they go join the others, I had to smile to myself. Because Kristie was right. It felt really, really good to open up.
The conversation, however, left me feeling overwhelmed and reflective, too, familiar feelings that I always have after therapy. So, with no treehouse and no Lucky, I find myself up on the roof of the Hotel Saskatchewan, staring up at the stars, reconnecting, and grounding myself.
Lucky: I’m proud of you for opening up to the girls, Squirt. I think it will help.
Me: Yeah, it was time.
Yet at the same time, a feeling of uneasiness washes over me, especially about the fact that I wasn’t able to open up about everything, like my parents or my aunt. One day, I hope I’m confident enough to trust the band with that. I just worry they’ll pity me, and that’s the last thing I want.
Lucky: I hate to say it, but I think you either need to learn a way not to let social media get to you, or not look at it. I know it’s hard, but it’s obviously a trigger. I’m worried about you.
Me: I know. I need to fix that. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.
I want so much to believe my own words.
Lucky: You will, I have faith. Maybe you need to find a group to drop into.
Me: I know. But I’m proud of you for getting asked to help up at Borden. That’s huge!
Lucky: I know. I’m stoked. But if you need me, Al, I’m there.
Lucky’s texts refer to the once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity he’s accepted at Base Borden, where they want him to serve as a guest instructor for the next month at one of their upcoming field technical training units. It’s an offer I’m not entirely sure he would have accepted so readily had I still been home. So there’s no way I’m about to let him second-guess his decision. I love my brother, but sometimes I worry he doesn’t always give me enough credit. The only way I’d let him fly out here is for a vacation.
Me: No way. I promise I’m all right. Talking to Kristie helped, and I’m going to a group in Vancouver next week. If I need you, I’ll ask. Promise.
Lucky: You better, Squirt. You are more important than anything, and I mean it.
Me: That means everything. I better go.
Lucky: Love you, sis. You should be able to see Antares from where you are. It’s the brightest star in Scorpius. Look it up. Then text me all about it.
Me: I’ll be sure to check it out. Thanks, Lucky.
Lucky: I’m always here.
I sigh, placing my phone down on the roof ledge. A wave of guilt hits me in the chest like a freight train, knowing that I’ve made Lucky worry. But with my behaviour tonight, he’s right to be worried. Hell, I’m worried. Or I was, at least, until I spoke to Kristie.
After leaving the restaurant, once Rox and I got back to the hotel, I had called her cell using the card she gave me at my last session, the one listing her personal number. I ended up leaving a message at first, but thankfully she called me back fairly quickly. She told me, with all things considered, I needed to give myself a pass on this one. Four laxatives wasn’t the end of the world, and I shouldn’t see it as the beginning of the end. After a good forty-five minute session, we hung up, and I felt better about the whole situation.
Picking up my phone, I connect to the hotel’s Wi-Fi before pulling up a star chart for Regina to help me find where Scorpius should be at this time of night. Looking up and squinting my eyes, I’m able to see what I think might be it, a scorpion with two arm-like pinchers and a tail with a stinger. After a few seconds, I feel myself relax when I spot Antares—the gleaming heart of the scorpion.
I also shoot Lucky another quick text, letting him know I found them both, and thank him for the distraction.