It happened so fast. On Friday I was shivering in a flower-print robe while from every angle sterile blue gloves poked and prodded at me. My heart was listened to. Ears, eyes, throat observed. My reflexes and pulse were recorded. Bone density scan, blood and urine analyses, ECG, height and weight.
Diagnosis: Anorexia nervosa.
Recommended level of care: Residential treatment, effective Monday morning. 9:00 A.M.
Monday morning, the twenty-third of May. We were there right on time, Matthias and I and the silence and my blue suitcase with the red bow. We sat in the driveway for a minute, or ten.
Please say something, Anna.
Beat.
There is nothing to say.
Come on, Anna! We can’t just stay here like this, in the car.
Would you like me to get out?
That is not what I meant!
Silence again. His hand idle on the gearbox. Mine stubbornly clenching my thigh. I did not know if he was looking at me; I was staring firmly ahead. I could not see, but I did not dare blink the blur away. If I did I knew the tears would come streaming down and I could not, would not, let them.
Nothing to say. What a petty, passive aggressive lie. But I was so angry I could not speak, and all of my anger was directed at Matthias; there was no one else around. I felt like a box of worn and frayed winter clothes that he was donating away.
His hand on the gearbox. He had not held mine, or held me at all, in fact, in a long time. It was only partly his fault; his hands make mine cold and his touch, even gentle, often hurts. Last night, in bed, I had shuddered when he had lifted the covers to slide under them. His weight had shifted the mattress, which had dug painfully into my hip. I had snapped at him and hugged myself against the cold air that had rushed in.
I had not spoken to him since then. Now, goodbyes in the car.
You do not need to come inside with me. I can wheel the suitcase in on my own.
I knew I was hurting him but could not help the spite coming out of my mouth. I could not bear the thought that he was leaving, that he was leaving me here.
Do you really think I’m going to drop you off and just leave?
Why not?
I answered spitefully.
Isn’t that why we are here?
For him to hand me and this pesky problem over to someone else?
Matthias got testy:
And you think this is easy for me? Bringing you here?
But there was no space for empathy in my dangerously swollen chest. Suddenly, it exploded.
I would not know! You do not talk to me either! Or kiss me, or make love to me! You have not told me you loved me in weeks. You do not even look at me!
He looked at me then, stunned, and I already regretted what I had begun, but it was too late. I fired the rest of my anger and fear at him:
You got tired of dealing with me, feeding me! That’s fine! Someone else will now and with me gone you can finally have your life back. You can open the window, have the whole bed to yourself, go to restaurants every night—
I don’t want the bed to myself! I don’t want the restaurants! I want you, Anna!
Then don’t leave me here …
My voice and I broke down. No longer angry, I was begging. Crying and scared. Please.
Please, Matthias, let’s go home,
I said in a whisper. Please,
even as he and I both knew we could not.
His voice was tired when he spoke:
We can’t go home, Anna.
Low and heavy:
I didn’t drive you here to get rid of you. I did because I can’t lose you. I can’t live without you. Do you understand, Anna? I can’t lose you—
He stopped. His voice was shaky too.
My left hand moved involuntarily, imperceptibly toward the gearbox. His hand waited. I hesitated, then finally reached for it. He looked at me and I burst into tears and a flurry of words spilled out.
What if you cannot manage on your own? You do not know how to cook! What if you need to do laundry and forget how to set the machine?
And the real fears:
What if I stay in this place so long that you forget the way I smell? What if you forget me?
Then:
What if you meet someone else?
Impossible,
and he kissed me for a long time, for the first time in weeks.
We sat in the car, my hand on his. Now there really was nothing left to say. After a while, he helped me with my suitcase and we went inside together.