Big Fat Disaster (37 page)

I start to answer, “I—was—” but Mom cuts me off.

She babbles, “Her cousin Ryan was trying to kill himself by standing at the top of a hill where there’s a blind spot for drivers, and Colby ran into the road and attempted to knock him to safety, but she slipped on some gravel and broke her arm, and Ryan was hit by the truck and died. But she
tried
to save him. I wish she’d push away from the table the way she tried to push him!” More nervous laughter.

Dr. Matthews doesn’t even acknowledge that he heard her. Instead, he prompts, “Colby, you were saying that you were…?”

“I just told you.” Mom is obviously irritated.

He leans forward a little in his chair. “I’d like to hear it from Colby, without interruption, please.” He sits back and gives me a gentle smile. “You were saying?”

“Oh, um, it’s—it was just like Mom said.”

He nods and seems to choose his words carefully. “Why…did Ryan want to kill himself?”

“Are you asking me this time, or her?” Mom asks.

“Either one is fine.”

Mom glances at me. “Do you want to tell about the video he made?”

I shake my head slowly and reach for the other pillow. I lay it flat atop my chest. I wish I had a couple more pillows; I’d line them up to the top of my head.

“Ryan made a video of Colby getting dressed. He stood outside her window and filmed her. She was stomping around her room trying to squeeze into these pants that were at least two sizes too small. I tell you, Dr. Matthews, Colby has
really
piled on the pounds in the last six months! So, Ryan claimed that his phone—the one he made the video on—was stolen, and that someone
else
created a Facebook page and uploaded the video, but I guess we’ll never know now. Anyway, he said he felt like killing himself because of the video being uploaded and having, oh, gosh, I think it had over two hundred shares by the time the page was taken down.” Mom turns to me. “Colby, what was it? Two hundred shares of that video? At least?”

Just thinking about it makes me feel like throwing up. I move the chest pillow up and cover my face.

Dr. Matthews’s voice is soft. “Colby, can you look at me?”

I lower the pillow just enough to reveal my eyes.

He asks, “How did you deal with that? Having your privacy invaded and the video seen by others…That seems like that would be devastating.”

“Mom said it was all my fault,” I whisper into the pillow.

He tilts his head. “I…couldn’t quite hear you, honey. Could you say it again, please?”

I cut my eyes to Mom. She’s watching me with that look in her eyes, the one that says,
“Careful what you say, Colby…Don’t embarrass me…We’re not dogs, Colby. We don’t reward ourselves with food…People can’t even tell that she’s mine, and to tell you the truth, sometimes I prefer it that way.”

I lower the pillow back to my chest. My voice is flat. “According to my mom, Ryan never would have made that video if I wasn’t so fat.” I raise my chin and look Mom in the eye. “
You said
that. Right before I went outside and tried to—”

Mom bolts out of the rocker like it’s on fire. “You always do that! You take the slightest thing that I say and twist it! I don’t have a mean bone in my body, Colby Diane! I am a good mother! Just look at Rachel and Drew!”

“Time out,” Dr. Matthews calmly says. He rises from his chair and moves to the door. “Mrs. Denton, I’d like to speak to Colby alone now.”

“You—you think I’m a bad mother, don’t you? Just because I said
that
, you think that I’m a horrible person.” She shakes her head. “I knew this was a bad idea to bring Colby. All I want is for you to tell me what to do to fix her.” She backs down into the rocker. “Can you do that? I just want her to stop eating like she does so that she can be happy. I grew up in a girls’ home, and the thing that got me out of that place was beauty pageants. I want all of my daughters to have a way to be successful, and, well, even if we don’t have any money, we can always get sponsors, and—”

Dr. Matthews smiles kindly and sounds like he’s talking to a little kid. “I’m sure you’re doing the best you can, Mrs. Denton. I don’t think that you’re a bad person. You brought Colby here so that she can get help, right?”

Mom nods, and she
looks
just like a little kid to me, too.

He continues, “We’re finished with the first part of the interview, when I speak to parent and child together. Now, I’d like to speak to Colby alone. At the end of the session, I’ll call for you, and we’ll make a plan for the next several days, okay?”

Mom looks confused. “You mean—this is going to take longer than just today, to fix her?”

Dr. Matthews looks taken aback, and he nods slowly. “Yeah, I think so. Sounds like we have quite a bit of work to do. Now…you wait outside, all right?” He opens the door a little wider and gives her a reassuring nod.

Mom picks up her purse. “I-I’ll finish the paperwork for you while I’m waiting.”

“That’s fine, Mrs. Denton.” He watches her go to the waiting room. “See you soon.”

Dr. Matthews pushes the door closed, walks slowly to his desk, and stares at a framed photo of his family. He raises his eyes to the ceiling, like he’s thinking about something, and then settles back into his chair. “I’m…curious about something you said, Colby. When you were telling what your mom said about the video being your fault, you said, ‘Right before I went outside and tried to—’ but your mom cut you off before you could finish that sentence. What were you going to say?” He tilts his head, watches me.

“I—don’t remember,” I lie.

Dr. Matthews narrows his eyes, shakes his head, and says gently, “I don’t know you well, or really at all, yet, but I have to say, I don’t think you’re telling the truth. Let’s make sure I understand the situation here, though, because I could be wrong.” He holds up one finger. “First of all, it looks to me like your mom gives you a lot of static about your weight and the way you eat. Am I right?”

I nod.

Two fingers. “Second of all, your cousin filmed you at a very private moment, and whether he meant for it to be shared or not, the video was posted to Facebook and seen by at least a couple hundred people—and probably more, since the friends of the friends of the friends…” He makes a pained face at me. “Man, that sucks. I can’t even imagine how awful that would feel. I think I would feel betrayed, violated, enraged…Would you say you felt any of those emotions?”

I bury my face in the pillow again and nod.

He takes a big breath in and blows it out. I look up. He holds up three fingers. “And
then
, your mom, who, you know, it would be nice if she had your back on this one, but your mom actually blames
you
for the video being made…right?”

I nod and feel my face crumbling. “Yes.” I start crying, and I don’t know how long it takes me to stop. The doctor finally picks up a box of tissues off his desk and walks it over to me, then sits in the rocker, and we’re pretty much knee-to-knee.

“I know,” he says softly. “I know that must have hurt. Bless your heart.”

I pull out some tissues, wipe my eyes, and draw some shuddery breaths. Just hearing Dr. Matt give words to the pain makes me feel like I’m going to break into little pieces and ooze all over the floor in a puddle. It’s like the relief a balloon must feel when it’s so full of air that it bursts. If a balloon
could
feel, I mean.

“So then when you went outside, Colby, what were you going to do?”

I breathe the word, “Try,” but it comes out mostly as a sob.

“Were you
trying
to go for a walk? Or
trying
to get some fresh air?”

I shake my head slowly and close my eyes. “No,” I whisper. “I tried to…die.” I raise my eyes to his, then immediately look away. “When I went outside, I tried to get hit by a big truck. But instead, Ryan did.”

“So…Ryan wasn’t suicidal?”

I shake my head. “No.
I
was.” I inhale shakily and breathe out, “He just got in the way of my plans. That’s all.”

“Why did you want to die, sweetheart?”

I restack the pillows on my lap and look down at them. “I—I’m a terrible person. I’m a disaster and…so, so…fat. I don’t fit anywhere. I destroyed my family. I—”

Dr. Matthews holds up a hand. “First of all, you’re not a terrible person, and you’re not a disaster. And, what do you mean, you destroyed your family?”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and envision the photo taped behind our family picture, then bring my gaze back down to the doctor’s. I tell him everything that’s happened in the past few months, and I don’t stop until his talking alarm clock announces that we’re out of time. Dr. Matt gets out of his chair to call my mother in.

“Wait!”

He turns to me.

“You can’t tell her that I didn’t try to save Ryan. Please! It’s the first time in my life she’s ever been proud of me for anything. Please,
please
, Dr. Matt. Please don’t tell her how it really was.”

“Colby, you are definitely a danger to yourself, and I am ethically obligated to tell your mother that I believe you are at risk for suicide.”

“Can you…Can you tell her that without telling her that Ryan died saving me? Can you just give me some time to figure out how to tell her?”

“Will you agree to a contract with me, where you promise to call me if you are about to harm yourself? Can you do that, Colby? Can you promise that you won’t do anything to yourself and that you’ll come for another session next week?”

“Yes, yes, I promise; just don’t tell my mom that I’m a lying sack of shit, please.”

He frowns. “You’re
not
a lying sack of shit.”

I swallow hard. “I promise. I won’t hurt myself and if I feel like I’m going to do anything stupid, I’ll call you.”

Mom starts spewing words the second she steps back into Dr. Matthews’s office. “See? What did I tell you? Now can you see what I’ve been putting up with?”

Dr. Matthews sits back down and orders her, “Have a seat.”

Mom looks a little surprised but does as he asks. She babbles, “I just don’t understand why Colby is so different from her sisters; I’ve mothered her the exact same as Rachel and Drew. It’s like she eats the way she does to get back at me.” She looks to Dr. Matt for some kind of response, but all she gets is that same stony gaze.

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “Listen to me, Mrs. Denton. You may not like what you’re going to hear, but I’m going to be straight with you because you need to act like a parent, not a self-centered child.”

Mom’s jaw drops, and her eyes get as big as CDs.

“Colby is severely depressed and at great risk for suicide. I know that you are most concerned about the eating and her weight, but the first thing we need to do is stabilize her so that she is
alive
to work on the other issues.”

Mom furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head at me. “Colby, you’re
not
suicidal. You’d tell me if you were depressed!” She glares at the doctor. “My girls can talk to me about anything. There’s no way that—”

Dr. Matt cuts her off. “I can assure you that she
is
depressed, and she
is
suicidal. And, she
is
telling you, in other ways. People with eating disorders are at greater risk for suicide. The binge eating disorder is Colby’s way of unplugging from intense emotions. By eating massive amounts of food in a short period of time, she creates the problem of feeling guilty or ashamed of eating so much, rather than the guilt or shame she feels about something else: disappointing you, for example. I will work up a plan of treatment goals, but the short-term goal for this week is to keep Colby safe: That’s paramount! Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Mom gives me her skeptical face, and I look at my hands.
Damn these icing stains.

“Mrs. Denton?”

Mom drags her eyes back to Dr. Matt, and he continues. “Colby’s agreed that she will contact me if she feels like hurting herself. In the meantime, you can help by seeing that she’s not left alone. Spend time together doing activities that don’t involve food.”

Mom waves her hand dismissively. “Well, that’s going to be impossible because of where we work.”

He turns to me. “Where do you work?”

“At my aunt’s bakery.”

He shakes his head. “That’s just like an alcoholic working in a bar. I’d like to see that situation changed.”

Mom blurts, “But we
owe
Leah for taking us in when we had nowhere else to go. Colby’s father left us, and the F.B.I. seized our—”

“She told me about it.” Dr. Matt reaches around for his appointment calendar and pulls it into his lap. “Same time next week?”

Mom murmurs, “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to be spoken to like this when I brought my child here for help. I—I’m not sure that this is a good idea.”

Dr. Matt’s voice is rough. “The key words in what you just said are ‘my’ and ‘child,’ Mrs. Denton. Regardless of how you feel about your husband and his actions, Colby is
not
responsible for what he did. She may look like your husband, but she is
not
her father. She is a unique, smart, capable, tough young woman, and she deserves to be loved and appreciated for who she is, regardless of her size. I suggest that you get counseling, too, and learn what is missing inside of you that your focus is so exclusively on your daughter’s weight that you don’t, for example, understand what an act of evil that boy making that video was.”