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TWENTY-SIX
Mom and Dad arrive at the hospital a little after me. I’m drenched in a sea of fear, at a loss as to what is happening to my twin.
They’ve attached an IV drip to provide her with fluids and stabilize her vitals.
Seeing her so sickly and unconscious in the bed makes me feel powerless. Guilty. I should have told our parents about the array of half-eaten snacks in her room that night.
Mom and Dad pace around until the doctor comes to update them on the situation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Decker. Here’s the thing—”
“Where am I?” Britney croaks, pulling our attention. Her eyes are squinting, studying the gray room. This place is stirring up memories from four years ago, and I have to keep fighting to remain present.
Mom rushes to Britney’s side. “Oh, sweetheart.” She grazes her cheek. “You passed out at school, and they called the ambulance.”
“But why? It’s not that serious.” She looks at the needle and tube at her wrist. “I just didn’t get enough sleep.”
“I’m afraid it’s more than that,” the doctor breaks in. He motions to our parents, saying, “Please, both of you step outside with me.”
Mom and Dad exit the room behind him.
I look at Britney.
She scowls. “Bran…”
Huffing, I walk to the doorway and listen to the conversation.
“Your daughter is underweight. Malnourished. Based on the results of the tests, she has an eating disorder.”
My stomach clenches. I peer back into the room at my sister.
She flicks away in shame.
“No,” Mom refutes. “Britney doesn’t have an eating disorder. I would know. You’ve misdiagnosed.”
The doctor harrumphs. “I’m sorry to say this, Mrs. Decker. But sometimes parents miss the signs.”
“What do we do to help her?” Dad speaks up.
Mom cuts to him. “Michael, our daughter does not have an eating disorder. She’s just pushing too hard in ballet. I’ll monitor her better.”
“No offense, Jane, but you clearly have no clue.”
“How dare you?” Mom snaps. “You barely show interest in your children’s lives. You’re never here.”
“Do you really want to go down that road?” Dad fires back.
The doctor looks so damn awkward.
It’s embarrassing.
I can’t believe they’re fucking arguing with each other in front of him and at a time like this.
He puts his hand up to stop them. “I think we can all agree that Britney’s health is more important. She needs your support.”
Dad nods. “Of course, doc. What do we do?”
Mom clucks her tongue at him.
