I am not leaving, Anna. Where would I go if I did? There is no Matthias without Matthias and Anna.
But there is no Anna anymore.
67
My nasogastric feeding tube is a Capri lemon shade of yellow. It goes in through my nose, runs down my esophagus, and ends inside my stomach. Nutrition can be delivered through the tube in one large infusion, or gradually, via pump over a period of eight to twenty-four hours.
Or in the case of an evening snack, in ten minutes flat.
The procedure is surgically swift and lonely. It takes place in the nurse’s station. The other girls cannot see me from the other room but I can hear their conversations.
I ask to use the bathroom. The humiliating sound of jingling keys. Perhaps it is the tube, or not, either way, I am choking for breath and in tears. I close and lock the bathroom door and let myself sink to the floor. Finally alone again, I cry.
Matthias is gone.
Matthias is gone. I sent him away. I know I did the right thing. At least now as I free-fall I know I will not be taking him down with me.
I keep the bathroom light switched off. I stay on the floor for hours. Or minutes, or a second, I do not know. No one knocks for me to come out.
I finally stand up and switch the light on, reaching for the faucet. I jump: my reflection in the mirror. I look old, sick, and hideous. Scary. I switch the light back off.
But even in the darkness again, I cannot unsee my face, my body, the feeding tube. I look fat. I feel fat. Anorexia: there it is.
I dissect every body part outlined in the shadowy mirror. My breasts are far too small for the rest of me, and my legs are far too short. My behind sticks out more than it should. My thighs could and should be thinner. My back could be straighter, my shoulders more square. I could tuck my stomach further in.
Even my vision is distorted. Macular thinning; even eye muscles can lose weight, detect less detail, less light, send less dopamine to the brain. Life loses focus in the haze.
I hate what I see, even as my eyes squint in my self-imposed dusk. Shapes are hazy and disfigured, shadows look longer than they are, but the feeding tube glares directly at me, and Matthias is gone.
68
I leave the bathroom and go up the stairs, to the Van Gogh room. I do not bother to turn on the light. I climb straight into bed.
It is dark and quiet and not cold and under the covers, I could be anywhere. I pretend I am home and that Matthias will be next to me when I wake up.
Anorexia nervosa has been indisputably linked to other mood disorders, such as depression and anxiety. Some symptoms overlap and co-occur.
I hear the psychiatrist’s voice in the report he wrote about me.
The patient may experience apathy, or indifference to her environment.
The next day I do not get out of bed. No vitals and weights for me today. Direct Care and the nurse warn, threaten me, but no thank you. I stay in bed.
Other symptoms include fatigue, loss of appetite and concentration.
Breakfast comes and goes without me. I do not get out of bed.
Pessimism and hopelessness.
They use my yellow tube. I let them. I am not allowed a morning walk, they say.
I do not care. I pull the covers back over my head and ask,
Just turn the lights off when you leave please, and close the door.
I am too tired for a walk.
Some time later the light is switched on again. I am mildly irritated. Direct Care says my father called.
Tell him I went to bed.
Matthias called too.
Tell him I went to bed. And please switch off the light.
One in five patients with anorexia will attempt suicide.
I know that statistic. I want to be one of them, but I am too tired to try. So I stay in bed. No reason to get up.
Matthias is gone. Direct Care finally turns off the light. I go to sleep.
69
Someone turns the light on. Again. Why? When?
Footsteps. Loud footsteps. Someone is angry. What day, what time is it?
Five thirty, Anna. Time for vitals and weights.
Emm is in the Van Gogh room. Emm pulls the covers back. Emm opens the window, the one we were expressly told to keep closed.
Emm opens my closet, searches for and finds the horrible flower-print robe. I look at her with mild curiosity. She throws the robe on the bed.
Put it on or I will make you.
She is already wearing hers. Her voice is low but its tone and her eyes make it clear that she is furious.
You have five minutes, Anna. Get dressed. I’ll be downstairs.
She walks out. Leaving the light on and the door open, and me just starting to absorb this.
I take a few seconds to register what she did, then decide I do not care. I pull the covers back. The light can remain on, and the door open. She can wait downstairs.
Footsteps again, now very loud and angry. The covers are snatched away. Emm throws them to the floor. I want to protest, but I have no energy.
She grabs me by the arm and yanks me forward with surprising strength for an anorexic. To my utter horror she grabs my T-shirt and pulls it right over my head.
Ice-cold air. I shriek.
Good, so you are alive. Now you’d better listen to me.
She holds the flower-print robe beyond my reach. I wrap my arms around me, shivering.
Matthias did not come last night, but you already know that. Why didn’t he come, Anna?
Because I told him not to come. She and I both know that.
You’re an idiot,
she says.
Get up and bring him back.
I cannot believe what is happening. Cannot believe Emm is speaking to me like this. I am angry and cold.
Give me my robe!
Not a chance, Anna.
Leave me alone! Go away!
No, you had your day in bed! Now it’s time for vitals and weights!
She does throw the robe in my face. I slip it on hurriedly, fuming. I feel naked and humiliated, cold and angry. I feel furious! I can feel something!
Get out of my room and out of my business! Who the hell do you think you are?
I’m the girl who’s stopping you from making the biggest mistake of your life!
She is shaking too, and screaming, her wild hair all over her face.
Bring Matthias back! You have no right to give him up! You have no right, you have—
She chokes up.
Emm is crying and shaking with anger so violently she eclipses mine. Emm, mask down and composure in shreds. Emm is falling apart.
You have to bring him back,
she says jaggedly.
You have to win this one. You have no right to give up. If you can’t, Anna, then what am I …
I cannot bear to watch her cry. I have never seen so much pain.
Naked underneath my horrible robe, I get out of bed. I hesitate before touching her, then I hug her. She does not push me back.
We stand there, two anorexics in horrid flowery patient robes, Emm’s tears soaking mine and hers. She cries herself to a stop, then silence. When she pulls back she is calm. Her voice is steady as she says,
Let me explain a few things to you, Anna.
There is nothing left of the despair that ransacked her minutes before. Emm the cruise director is back.
I understand what you’re going through. We all do, every girl here. And no, Matthias doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean that he is not suffering.
Her dispassionate tone clashes against the content of her words.
Matthias does not sleep at night because he is thinking of you. He worries about you in the morning, at work, on his way over here and when he leaves. He thinks about you when it’s cold and windy and snowing outside. He thinks of you at every meal. He thinks about you in every restaurant he goes to, poring over the menu for one item he thinks you might eat.
The more she talks, the more my heart hurts.
You have someone who worries about you. Do you understand how lucky you are? Every girl here watches him come here every damn night for you and wishes someone came for her. And if you think sending him away will protect him in some weird twisted way, it won’t. He’ll just worry about you more. He loves you and you’re hurting him. You have no right.