“So, Max, tell me what prompted your call last night.”
The doctor did not, as Max had anticipated, ask who had referred her or how Max had gotten her name. She’d worked up the most unverifiable of excuses, too, simply that she’d looked through the phone book and taken a shine to the doctor’s name. She’d even had the forethought to check that it was listed.
Max launched into the second half of her prepared speech. “My husband died two years ago.” The doctor didn’t bother to interrupt her with any platitudes. “And I’ve been fine.”
Her stomach twisted when she remembered saying exactly the same thing to Cameron last night. He was right. She was a liar. She hadn’t been fine. Even before he died.
The doctor didn’t need to know everything.
Max hurried on with her fabricated story. “I mean it was a shock, of course, but I haven’t really suffered with any big problems like insomnia or drinking too much or ...” She used her hands eloquently, allowing Dr. Shale to draw her own conclusions. “Until about two months ago.” She stopped. Time for the good doctor to earn her $155 an hour.
“What happened two months ago?” Not how did your husband die or what do you do for a living—although that had been on the patient enrollment form—not even a why do you think you’ve been “fine.”
“I met a new man.”
“Ahhh.”
“And my husband started talking to me.”
Now that was worthy of a raised brow, the color of which matched Prunella’s red hair. This morning, when she’d outlined her plan, Cameron had asked how the hell that was supposed to get her into a group of anorexics. It was more likely to get her a room in the loony bin. She, however, counted on the fact that Dr. Shale would see it as an allegory, a story rich with meaning. Psychiatrists loved that kind of stuff.
“Hmmm. Why do you think he’s suddenly made an appearance after two years?”
“He’s jealous.”
“So he’s been telling you to dump this other man?”
“Not exactly. He’s been telling me how great the guy is, but he’s using reverse psychology.” It was the oddest conversation and not quite how Max had envisioned it.
“Ah. I get it. He thinks that by extolling this new man’s virtues, you’ll turn tail and run. To spite him.”
“Right.” Of course, Max wouldn’t put that past Cameron. In fact, could that have been his game with Witt all along? Max gave it a two-second consideration, then tossed it aside.
“Tell me, Max. Is this the first man you’ve dated since your husband died?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about that? Disloyal? Frightened? Vulnerable?”
“I think terrified would describe it accurately. I feel sort of out of control.”
“Describe that to me, being out of control.”
Here was where she’d wanted to get. “Well, I worry about every little decision. Not just about Wi ... this man, but about work, about my personal life. Everything. The more I go round and round, the more I can’t make decisions, the harder it is to ...” She trailed off, not wanting to push Prunella too fast.
“The harder it is to what, Max?” the doctor prompted.
“Well. When I was in high school, I had this small problem with eating.”
“Eating?”
“Yes. I kind of ... stopped.”
“You stopped eating? You mean you were anorexic?”
“Well, yeah.” Ducking her head, she went for the slightly embarrassed attitude. She had, actually, been in control of everything back then.
“What about laxatives?”
“Gross. I was more fond of a little binge-and-purge when necessary.” She thought the whole story sounded very realistic. A few embellishments on the truth.
“Ah, bulimia.” The doctor’s eyebrow went up again. “Were you ever treated for this eating disorder?”
“For a while.” Now came the really big lie, the one intended to suck the doctor into her plan. “I went to a group thing. It really helped. Saved my life, I suppose you could say.” Actually she’d hated the group. In her opinion, she’d never really needed to be there. Then her aunt died, and she’d gone away to college. Life changed. It had been a phase she’d gotten through, despite Cameron’s nitpicking about her weight these days.
“So tell me about now.”
“You mean the eating?”
“Yes. I mean the eating.”
Max opted for something close to the truth. “Well, for a few weeks, I couldn’t eat anything at all.” Since she’d met Witt, she’d lost five pounds, though God knows she’d never admit that to Cameron. “Then this last week, I’ve been bingeing. That’s not something I used to do back in high school. It’s kind of scary.” Being possessed was kind of scary. She figured she’d save that one for the group. She went on gravely. “There’s been those bad body thoughts, too.”
“Bad body thoughts?”
“Oh, sorry, that’s a term ... the group used. The best way to put it is that I feel fat. Really fat.”