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When I got there, I was the first girl at the table. Dr. Larsen was already seated, directly across from me like usual.
“Good evening, Beatrice,” she said.
I didn’t want to speak with her, but I was worried she’d tell Dad not to bring Rascal if I was rude.
“Hi,” I said.
“Are you looking forward to your father’s visit tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I heard he’s bringing your dog,” she said.
I nodded.
Iris came out with my plate of food—hamburger with fries, a small side salad, and ketchup—the dreaded ketchup. Once I started restricting food, condiments became toxic, unnecessary calories that needed to be avoided at all costs.
“Ensure,” I said.
Dr. Larsen met my eyes. “Rascal won’t be able to come tomorrow when your dad visits unless you eat your dinner tonight.”
How the fuck does she know my dog’s name?I thought.
I despised this woman with every fiber of my being, the busybody of busybodies who micromanaged my every move. I wanted her out of my life so badly. I took a deep breath in, trying to stop myself from screaming.
“It’s your choice, just like choosing not to go to the dog shelter was,” she reminded me.
The other girls began filing into the dining room and sat down. Some of them ate. A couple drank Ensure. I sat for an hour with the plate of food in front of me, not touching it but not asking for liquid supplementation either. I could feel Emily, at the other end of the table, staring at me, wondering if I’d cave.
After all the girls finished, I was left alone, sitting with a cold plate of food and Dr. Larsen still seated in front of me.
I considered if I did eat the food where I might be able to hide some. There were no napkins with meals at BetterHorizons because they could be folded in half and used to spit food into discreetly.
We weren’t allowed to wear hoodies, jackets, or anything with pockets that could hide food either. There was a shorts-only policy during meals because it was easier to hide food in long-leg pants while the food dropped right out with shorts.
I wasn’t a purger, so trying to throw up after eating wasn’t an option. After I became sick, I believed that if I tried to purge food, and it didn’t come up all the way, it would go back down again, and it would be like eating twice, meaning double the calories. And even if I wanted to purge, it would be a challenge. We weren’t allowed to use the bathroom for one hour after meals or snacks for this reason.
The bottom line is I either had to eat the meal or forgo seeing Rascal in the morning.
“What’ll it be, Beatrice?” Dr. Larsen finally asked.
I angrily picked up a fry and ate it. For a split second, I enjoyed the taste—but immediately felt guilty. ED was on me, reminding me this was another example of why I was the biggest failure of all time. I stuffed the rest of the fries in my mouth to get the meal over with as quickly as possible.
“Easy does it,” Dr. Larsen said.
“Isn’t this what you want me to do?” I said, nearly choking, my mouth filled with fries.
I inhaled the hamburger too, like someone might try to steal it from me. I needed to finish because I knew ED’s wrath awaited me, and I wanted that over with too.
The dangle was seeing Rascal. As I swallowed the last couple of bites, I feared I’d made a colossal mistake. Would the few moments I’d have with him in the morning be worth it?
It didn’t matter now. My plate was empty.
CHAPTER18
EDDIE IS STILLholding my phone when his phone vibrates on the coffee table in front of us—it’s Paul. He quickly picks it up and reads the text.
“Paul pulled up your records and has a question about the car break-in last week,” Eddie says.
