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I folded sheet after sheet and was halfway done when I looked over at her. She was still on her first one. Even though I was burning more calories than her, my pent-up resentment boiled over.
“That’s it,” I said. “I’m getting Dr. Larsen and telling her you’re not doing your chore.”
“I am …” Emily said when her head suddenly thumped down on the table, loudly.
“Jesus Christ,” I said. “Now you’re pretending to be too tired to fold?”
She didn’t respond.
“Emily?”
She still didn’t respond.
I tapped her shoulder, but she was unresponsive. I shook her, but still no response. Her eyes were half-closed, and her pupils looked like they had rolled to the back of her head.
“Emily!” I screamed, before running to the nurses’ station where Dr. Larsen was.
“Emily passed out,” I told her and the nurse.
They both jumped up and ran out as I followed them. The nurse took Emily’s vitals.
“Her heart rate is too low. Call an ambulance,” she told Dr. Larsen.
When the ambulance arrived, I watched the paramedics lift Emily’s body onto a stretcher before whisking her away. The sirens roared down the street until they turned into a faint whisper.
Afterward, I sat back at the dining room table to finish our chore.
Dr. Larsen reappeared. “Are you okay?” she asked me.
“I’m not the one who passed out,” I snapped back.
“It must’ve been scary to see Emily like that.”
“Not really,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Dr. Larsen asked.
“Because she’s made it this long,” I responded.
“It’s not a given. I’m not speaking out of turn because Emily already knows this, but she’s suffering from heart failure. Her heart no longer pumps blood properly because its walls have thinned and weakened due to long-term anorexia.”
“So, what do you want me to do about it?” I asked.
“There’s nothing you can do for Emily. But you might want to consider if her path is what you want for your future.”
She left the room, and I continued silently folding the brochures. It almost felt like she had disparaged Emily by asking me if I wanted to follow in her footsteps, insinuating her path wasn’t one to emulate.
Later that night, I was lying alone in our bedroom. Emily was still at the hospital. A thin sheet covered my body since my comforter had been taken away. Kyle was stationed by the door to ensure I didn’t exercise through the night.
I thought again about what Dr. Larsen had asked me, whether I wanted to follow in Emily’s footsteps. I hadn’t thought about my future since before Mom died, when we’d talked about where I might want to go to college and what I might want to do with my life.
I wondered whether I’d spend the next five years as Emily had. In and out of hospitals and treatment centers. Not allowed to wear shoes or to use a blanket. Not allowed to see my dog or friends. Sleeping and bathing while a guard watched over me.
Before Mom died, I had experienced enough of life to remember being happy and enjoying time with people wholoved me. The problem was that life felt so out of reach for someone as broken as me, even though I knew there was another way to exist.
Maybe what Dr. Larsen had said about Emily wasn’t disparaging. Maybe shewastrying to help me.
Maybe she thought I was still worth saving.
