Running Lean (34 page)

T
ubes and needles everywhere. And Daddy standing over her. Dim light cast deep shadows in the lines of his face, especially around his frown. Stacey thought she saw a tear roll down his cheek, but she couldn’t be sure. So hard to keep her eyes open.

Stuff hurt. Like a truck had slammed into her chest. Yet the pain seemed far away, as if her consciousness was somehow separated from her body. A dream danced through her memory. Was it real? She couldn’t remember. The parking lot, Calvin, getting off the back of his bike. Then the pain. Had a car hit them?

She didn’t want to remember, but she needed to know. “C—”

“Try not to talk, baby.” Mom’s voice. “Just rest. Daddy and I are here.”

“C … Ca … win.” Something in her mouth wouldn’t let her make the right sounds.

“He’s in the waiting room,” Mom said.

Stacey couldn’t see her mother, couldn’t move her head toward the direction of the voice.

“He’s been here all night, him and his daddy.”

“Wan … see … h-mm.”

“He was in here a little while ago, before you woke up.”

A warm touch on her shoulder, stroking her arm. Mom laughed
a little. “I don’t think that boy is going anywhere else for a while. He’s so worried about you. But you’re going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be just fine.”

But what happened?

She ran the images through her mind again. The wind in her face, taking her breath away as she rode with Calvin. And then he stopped the bike and she tried to walk toward the bright windows. The pain came and dragged her down, tried to keep her from reaching the light. She had to get there … to the light brighter than any she had seen. Love was in the light, warming her and breathing life into her. A presence embraced her, flowed through her, lifted her.

A voice came with the softness of a whisper but the power of a shout.
Not yet. This is not the end for you, nor the life I want you to live
.

Machinery beeped. Tubes lay across her face and one went down her throat. She was in a bed again, and Mom spoke words she couldn’t understand.

What? Take care of me? I want to go back
.

It couldn’t have been a dream.

She recalled something else too. People rushing about barking orders, someone bouncing on her chest. Big paddles against her skin. A jolt that lifted her from the table.

Oh, God! Oh, God!
“Di … I die?”

Daddy sniffed and looked away.

Mom renewed her stroking. “They had to resuscitate you, baby. But you’re okay now. And we’re going to fix it so it never happens again.”

So the part with the paddles was real. Vivid pictures played out behind her eyelids. She looked down on a skinny thing lying naked on the table. Bones everywhere. That couldn’t be her. Could it? How was it possible for her to see herself?

How was it possible she hadn’t been able to truly see herself before?

“S-sorry.”

“We love you, baby. We love you so much,” Mom cooed.

“Okay.”

Mom chuckled again. “Okay that we love you? Okay. I guess that’s okay.”

It’d have to be. She didn’t have the strength for anything more.

The murmured conversation outside her room was just loud enough for her to know her parents were talking to a doctor about what would happen next. One word stood out and planted itself in her mind.
Charlotte
.

Mom came back in and patted her arm. “Hey, sweetie. You’re awake.”

“Charlotte?”

Her mother’s smile vanished. “Oh. Don’t you worry about that right now. We’ll talk about it when you’re better. Right now, a certain curly-headed young man is here to see you.”

Stacey moved her head up and down a little.
Yes, please. Now
.

More arm pats. “I’ll send him in.”

She turned her head as much as she could, focused her eyes toward the door, and waited. Her father leaned against the doorframe. He glanced out of the room then lowered his head as Calvin slowly came in.

Calvin’s hair lay flat against his head, and his nose was red and his eyes bloodshot. Shadows Stacey had never seen before spotted the lower portions of his face. He moved to her bedside and slid his fingertips lightly across her palm, as if he were afraid to touch her.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse. “How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.”

He blinked. “Heavy?”

“That’s the sedatives.” A nurse crossed to the other side of Stacey’s bed. “We need to keep her quiet.”

The woman did something with the tubes and machine, then bent over Stacey and adjusted stuff around her head. As the nurse moved about doing her job, Calvin’s shoulders hunched and he tugged at his dirty hair. Daylight seeping between the slats of window blinds painted stripes across his face and wrinkled clothes.

Her bedraggled hero.

The nurse finally left. Calvin sank into a chair at Stacey’s bedside. His touch stayed light against her hand. “The doctor says you’ll be okay.” The corners of his mouth twitched into something like a smile. Not convincing. He looked so tired. “You need to stay here and rest for a few days, get your strength back.”

Maybe he knew something. She tried again. “Charlotte?”

“Hmm?”

“Charlotte.” The tube in her mouth wouldn’t let her make the right sounds. It came out
har-whu
.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Never mind
.

“My dad says we need to get home soon.” He chuckled. “I missed my first day of work. But it’s okay. I’m pretty tight with the boss.”

Humor. She grunted. All she could do under the circumstances. Or maybe a little more. She wiggled her fingers to tickle his, and was rewarded with a smile that reached his eyes.

It didn’t last long enough. “I’ll come see you as often as I can.”

Something cold rushed through her. He was leaving. He spoke these polite words and made a joke, but he’d leave and maybe be too scared to come back.

“Don’ go.”

“I’ll come back—”

She shook her head. The tubes pulled. “Don’ ‘eave me!”

“Shh! Shh.” He reached up to touch her face, stop her head from moving. “It’s okay, Stacey. I’m not leaving you. I promise.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not going away. No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you. But …”

A tear ran down the side of her face and pooled in her ear. But what? Why was there a but?

“I need you to do something for me, baby. I need you to promise me that you’ll get help.” His breath trembled. “I need … just that.”

Stacey’s throat convulsed. She had no moisture in her mouth to swallow. She whimpered. Fingers she barely had control of raised to touch her cracked lips.

“Here.” Calvin stretched over her bed to reach a big cup on a metal tray. He dug out a chunk of ice and brought it to her mouth, rolled it gently across her lips. So cold, wet, and soothing. He moved away, dropped the leftover ice into something that made a thunk. He came back, but didn’t sit down. Calvin tilted his head and stared at her through eyes so heavy and red. Like hers felt.

“Promise me, Stacey?”

She nodded and pulled air into her lungs for a big effort. “No mo’ di-e-ing. I promiff.”

Beneath his scruffy mustache, Calvin’s lips spread into a sweet, sleepy smile.

The promise was easier to speak than to keep. The thing that had stampeded like a bloated elephant into her life and relationship with Calvin hung on, fighting for its own survival, whispering she would become a blimp once again.

Stacey stood on the scale, wearing baggy pajamas from home
and a pair of thick hospital socks. Nurse Cathy pushed the counterweights until the bar leveled out. Ninety pounds.

“That’s good,” Cathy said. “Getting better every day. I’ll bet by the time I can push that hundred weight over, you’ll be going home.”

A hundred pounds? Wasn’t ninety good enough?

“You can step down now.”

Stacey held her breath and stared. The numbers on the bar blurred.

“Step down, hon.”

“But, this … it’s …”

Nurse Cathy came back to her side. “For your height and bone structure, this is way too thin.”

“I have big bones.”

Her mother had always said so. Big bones from Daddy’s side of the family. She’d quickly realized it was a polite way of explaining why she was fat.

The nurse touched the small of her back. “It’s okay, baby girl. I know this isn’t easy. But you’re getting better. And your skin is looking healthier. You got that youthful glow coming back.” She chuckled and took Stacey’s elbow to help her down from the platform. “Wish I still had young skin like you. You’ll be knocking that boyfriend of yours off his feet again in no time. Come sit back down in your chair.”

With the nurse providing a steady hand, Stacey shuffled back to her wheelchair. Although she could move about, two and a half weeks after what she called her “event,” she was still weak. Dr. Bartimeus, her primary doctor, had said her heart was weakened from being deprived of adequate nutrition for so long, and when she resorted to purging everything, living only on water, her potassium ion levels dropped causing severe hypokalemia. Her starved heart couldn’t continue to function. How she’d managed to hold on to
Calvin during the motorcycle ride to the hospital was a mystery. Or a miracle.

But she couldn’t talk about miracles. The doctors, nurses, and her parents only wanted to talk about solutions and her “road to recovery.” Step one: Treat her heart condition so she was no longer in immediate danger and could leave the hospital. That meant eating, even if they had to stuff a feeding tube down her throat. Which they had. Twice. Step two: Spend her summer vacation, minimum, at a rehab facility in Charlotte, where she’d learn to eat and to “love herself again.”

Calvin had added another step—trusting in God for the strength she needed to get through all the other steps.

He called her every day and came to see her several times a week. To him, she could talk about miracles, and only with him did she share what she’d seen during those moments when the doctors struggled to bring her back to life. It excited him, and he said she should tell everyone.

Maybe someday.

Right now it was a precious thing she wanted to hold close to her heart. It gave her strength, even more than Calvin’s promises to stay with her. Because if that was Jesus she’d seen, he couldn’t possibly fail in
his
promise that he had a different plan for her life.

Nurse Cathy wheeled her back toward her room. Stacey watched the slowly turning tires of her wheelchair. She imagined grabbing them and pushing hard to propel herself down the hospital hallway. Freedom, if only for a moment. Being in control again, if only briefly.

Wouldn’t happen. They’d catch her hammering the button at the elevator. And what kind of fashion statement would she make walking the streets of Dawson in her pink kitten jammies?

“Here we go,” the nurse said, swiveling the wheelchair into Stacey’s room.

Room 306, bed B. Not so home sweet home
.

A person sat in the chair by the window, turning a page in Stacey’s sketchbook. Zoe flipped her hair out of her face and slid the book back onto the table, then stood and crossed her arms as if she were freezing. “Hey, Stace.”

Something did freeze inside Stacey. “Hey.”

Nurse Cathy helped her back into her bed, clueless that the space between Stacey and Zoe trembled as if the air itself wanted to escape. “See you tomorrow, sweetie.”

“Tomorrow?” Zoe said when the woman was gone.

“Daily weigh-ins and physical therapy.” Stacey pulled her blanket over her shoulders. “I didn’t think you were going to come see me.”

“Mom grounded me. Two weeks.”

Stacey nodded. Around the room were cards and flowers. A teddy bear from Tyler, who’d come to see her with Calvin and once by himself. Even Flannery had sent a get-well-soon balloon. Nothing from Zoe. Probably mortified with guilt and lying now to cover for it.

“So, what’s wrong with you?” Zoe asked.

“My mom said she called and told you.”

“Uh, yeah. She said you’re being treated for anorexia.”

Mom might have omitted the gorier details.

“My heart stopped. That night I ran out of the party, I could have died.” Her tone was more accusing than she’d intended. Nothing that happened was Zoe’s fault. Not really. Except for encouraging Stacey to engage in anorexic behavior and talking her into hanging out with Noah that night.

Zoe hung her head. “That’s bad.”

“Yes, it was. And I’m done with that stuff. I’m going to beat this eating disorder. That’s what it is, Zoe. A disorder. A mental disorder. Not a diet plan.” Softer words, but still blaming. And a boastful lie in their midst. Skinny Stacey inside her still wanted control.

Zoe nodded without looking up and then sniffed. “Noah brought me here.”

“Noah’s here?” Stacey tugged her blanket up a little higher.

“Downstairs. He wouldn’t come up. He feels terrible about how he acted that night. He keeps saying nothing would have happened to you if he hadn’t been such a jerk. His word. Jerk.”

Yep. Right about that
.

“But really it’s my fault,” Zoe said. “I’m the jerk. I tried to break you and Calvin up. I thought it would be you and me taking on the world, you know? But I really was thinking only about myself. I didn’t even see that you were really sick.”

Wow. Pretty deep and raw for Zoe
.

Stacey sighed. “It isn’t your fault. I did this. I thought I was in control, but the diet controlled me. It still does.”

Zoe raised her head at last. “Still? But, you’re getting better, aren’t you?”

“Physically. Slowly. I have to go to a rehab center.”

“So, how long will that take?”

“I don’t know. Weeks. Months. Whatever it takes. Zoe …”

Could she reveal her secret? Would Zoe rationalize everything as a way of writing it off? Like Daddy and the doctors would? If it would make a difference …

“Have you ever heard of people having near-death experiences?”

“You mean like they see a white light and stuff?”

“Yes. That’s what happened to me.”

Like little flip-drawings in the corners of notebook pages, Zoe’s face went through a rapid sequence of expressions. Shock, concern, doubt, defiance, indifference. She tossed her hair to finish them off. “I heard that’s what happens when the brain is shutting down.”