CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO #2
“No. We’re not ignoring this. I can’t ignore this.” My heart is aching. “You could have told us.”
“Oh, like you told us all of your issues?” she shoots back, sharp and immediately defensive.
“Get real, Lina. No one in this apartment has been honest with one another in a long time. Your mom died, and your boyfriend cheated on you during her goddamn wake, Kara started doing drugs, Eden started dating Kara’s ex-boyfriend, and I’ve been starving myself! ”
It’s not an accusation; it’s an eruption. Meredith has exploded with a truth bomb so explosive that it shocks us both for a long, silent second.
“I didn’t tell anyone about what happened after my mom died because I didn’t want it to affect anything. The reason I came back to Yale was because I was trying to get my life back to normal.”
“And you think me telling everyone I have an eating disorder wouldn’t have affected anything, Lina?” she practically screams. “I was in a treatment center for the entire summer. I was trying to get my life back to normal.”
“Clearly it wasn’t working!” I’m not trying to reprimand her or make her feel worse, but it does hurt my feelings that she’s trying to compare our two situations.
Her venom is real, though, and she’s not even trying to hold back anymore. It’s such a stark contrast to the way she’s been hiding the most destructive detail about her life.
“How was it working for you ?” Her eyes flash. “You went to the hospital because you passed out on your running path! You’ve become completely codependent on your boyfriend to help you sleep!”
My stomach drops. My face falls. Because she’s right, and I’m ashamed it took me this long to realize the comparison she was making was actually accurate.
This is what I get for being emotionally stunted.
All Meredith needs right now is love and support, and yet here I am, trying to make her feel guilty for not including us in it.
My own hypocrisy has left me stunned into silence.
“Yeah,” Meredith practically laughs as she says it, taking a big step back. “We’re all fucked around here, aren’t we? Except the only time anyone is forced to admit it is once it’s visible enough to scare someone!”
She’s yelling more than she ever has, and it causes Eden and Kara to trickle into the room, shutting the door behind them and leaving the boys in the living room.
I can tell Braxton and Grant were trying to stay out of it, but now they’re likely wondering if she’s going through some kind of mental breakdown.
I’m wondering the same thing.
“Well, I’m sorry that I didn’t point out my protruding ribs sooner! Or drag a scale into the living room every Sunday to show what I’ve been doing to myself!”
“Mer, you’re beautiful,” Eden says softly.
“You guys truly have no idea what this is about! Don’t start pretending now.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her lash out at Eden, and it has all of us flinching back. She’s more than willing to bicker back and forth with Kara, but Eden is everyone’s soft spot.
“Woah,” Kara interjects with a hand held out. “Don’t start getting angry at us. We’re trying to make sense of this—trying to help.”
“ Help is the last thing I want.” Her voice is entirely hollow.
And that’s what makes us all realize how much this has consumed her life.
I’m sure Kara has a better idea than the rest of us. She studies neurology on a daily basis—knows more about the inner workings of the brain than all of us combined.
But I’m not sure if even a genius like her could fully understand the psychology behind what Meredith is going through. None of us can explain how something so life-altering and all-consuming could be rooted in thoughts that make no logical sense—least of all me.
And her refusing help despite knowing she’s making her own body sick doesn’t follow any real reason or basic instinct to survive.
Then again, I did the exact same thing.
You don’t really understand how it happens—how far you’re willing to go to ignore yourself—until you’re the one doing it.
Meredith’s brain has been completely rewired to believe the complete opposite of what is true. Her mind is deluding her into a world where hunger and control are more necessary than nutrients and health.
We all notice the way she’s shaking. Not violently, but enough.
And then she laughs, almost as if she’s coming to terms with the fact that she can no longer pretend she’s holding it together anymore.
“God,” she mutters, pulling the ponytail holder roughly from her blonde hair.
“I didn’t even want to go tonight. I’m wondering if it was some kind of gut feeling, like I knew something horrible like this was going to happen.
Braxton convinced me, though, and I wanted to scream.
Because what am I supposed to wear to an event when nothing in my closet fits anymore? ”
“Mer,” I say, and take a cautious step forward.
Now, she’s flinging her jewelry off, throwing each piece toward her desk.
Her head lifts. “Don’t. Don’t do that thing where you make your voice soft and gooey, like I’m a child in the midst of a tantrum. I’m not fragile.”
Her malnourished body would likely disagree with her, but we all know better than to comment on that.
“You all think I wanted to keep this from you?” she asks, her voice cracking as she looks between all of us. “That it feels good to lie about this? Skipping meals, hiding behind baggy clothes, pretending I wasn’t light-headed every time I stood up too fast? You think I wanted this? Huh?”
Silence. None of us move.
It takes us a moment to realize what she’s doing, and before any of us can stop her, she’s ripping off her dress, completely exposing herself.
“Is this what you would have liked for me to have done?” Her body is shaking with sobs, cracking under the pressure of our gazes.
She swallows hard, her bony throat emphasizing every motion.
And then something inside of her fully unravels.
Meredith’s body sinks to the floor, spine curling as she wraps her arms around her legs. The sobs coming from her sound like they’ve been living within her for years, begging to be released.
We all freeze at the sight of her crumbling frame, mascara streaking down her face as her cries become increasingly guttural. Loud. Painful.
It only takes a second before Eden moves toward her, dropping down beside her without hesitation and wrapping her in her arms. Kara follows next, kneeling on the other side of her, gripping her hand even as it violently shakes.
I pull a blanket from the foot of her bed, sitting so I can wrap her nearly naked body in it.
Nobody speaks for a while. Instead, we stay on the floor, anchoring Meredith with us.
After a while, her voice breaks through, barely audible: “I didn’t want to be your problem. I don’t want to be pitied. You all have your own shit, and I didn’t think it was fair for me to add to that. That’s all.”
The tension stretching between Meredith and the rest of us feels like a balance beam of sorts. Like if any of us make the wrong move or say the wrong thing, it’s going to send her toppling over the edge.
And despite saying she doesn’t want us to treat her differently, we’re still trying to be conscious of her feelings.
“You need to get help,” Kara says point-blank, pushing some of her hair back.
She couldn’t care less about tipping the balance.
She jumps off of it. “That’s the bottom line.
I know you don’t want us to know about it, but like I’ve been telling you, if you don’t want us to treat you differently, then you can’t sit around and do nothing about the way you’re treating your body poorly. ”
Been telling her? I look over at Eden, who has the same confused look on her face. Has Kara known about this?
It wouldn’t change anything whether she had or hadn’t, but it does make something twist painfully in my gut.
It’s a nauseating realization that none of us have been talking in the way we should have been.
We’ve been seamlessly orbiting around each other, acting as though these tough conversations are radioactive.
And the poison is finally catching up to us.
Meredith doesn’t move. She just breathes. Slowly. Causing every protruding bone in her body to contract in our hold, like the weight of those words was something she was already carrying, and Kara just set them down for her.
“I did get help,” she says eventually, quieter now. “Last summer. At Rosehill. For eight weeks.”
It must be a place near her home in Washington, and with her mom being a doctor, I’m sure she wanted Meredith nearby.
I’m sure I look as stunned as I feel. “You never told us?—”
“Of course I didn’t. I didn’t want anyone looking at me like I was broken.”
“But you were doing better,” Eden whispers. “Weren’t you?”
Meredith’s gaze flickers to the floor. “I was. I thought I was. I guess that doesn’t matter now. Things change.”
“They’re going to change again,” Kara tells her strongly. “We’re going to make sure of it.”
All of the secrets that have been hidden and half-spoken feel void now. Like dust settling in the light. Because this—standing here together in the fallout—is the most honest we’ve ever been.