The Devil of DiRisio (22 page)

“What are you talking about? She’s fine,” was Damian’s response.  “When will she be discharged?  We’re expected in California immediately.”  The doctor gave Damian a sideways glance as a reprimand for challenging his authority.  I had a feeling that any other outburst from Damian would result in him being kicked out of the room.

“We’ll do your surgery tonight, but I will not be discharging you anytime soon.  I’m admitting you to the psychiatric ward for evaluation.  I think you have an eating disorder.  We need to get you healthy.  If you’re not healthy, you’ll never heal properly and you’ll never dance again.  Never,” he added looking at Damian.

“Doctor, I don’t have an eating disorder.  I’ve just been really stressed lately and I’ve lost a few pounds.”  He sighed as if he’d heard that so many times before that it pained him to hear it again.

“I’ll let the psychiatrist decide that,” he said as he left the room.

“I’m so sorry I ruined your plans,” I told Damian once we were alone.

“Don’t be silly,” he said as he sat next to me on the bed.  He leaned over and kissed me tenderly on the forehead.  “I just want you to be okay.”  Damian looked at his watch.  “Unfortunately, Papa is waiting for me at the airfield.”

“You’re still going?”

“I have to.  I signed a contract.  But as soon as I can, I will fly back.  I will call you every day to make sure you are getting healthy. Before you know it, we will be dancing together again. I love you.  Don’t forget that.”  Then he kissed me and left.  He just left.

I passed the time before my surgery by staring blankly at the television.  I was still in shock that I was lying in a hospital bed about to have surgery and the man that had just professed his love for me had left.  But then again, what did I expect him to do?  He was under a contract.  It wasn’t like I was dying or anything.  But still, couldn’t he have delayed his departure until tomorrow?

Somehow, I ended up watching Will’s basketball game.  His trade to Madrid was going through tomorrow so this was his last game in Rome.  He looked angry and misguided.  He lashed out at the other players and even the referees.  Near halftime, he fouled another player hard and they had almost come to blows.  The coach took him out of the game and gave him a very visible verbal chastisement. As time progressed,
Lottomatica
was falling further and further behind.  They needed him in the game.  He was still their most dominant player.  Finally with five minutes left, the coach reluctantly put him back in. 

At first everything was going well. 
Will hit four three-pointers in a row instantly narrowing their 17 point deficit.
  Then things started to go downhill.  The player Will fouled earlier retaliated.  Will
tried
to remain calm.  Apparently, he had been talked to during halftime. He made his free throws and continued playing trying to ignore the brute that seemed dead set on provoking him. 

The next time Will had the ball he was met by that same menacing brute.  Will dribbled left then right then somehow got past him and went for a layup, but the brute stepped under him, preventing Will from landing properly.  I screamed when I saw Will crash to the ground.  I screamed again when I saw that he wasn’t moving.  Referees, coaches, doctors all swarmed around Will preventing me from seeing his face.  I just wanted to see his face and get a glimpse of his sweet smile to make sure he was all right.  But they were blocking my view of him.  Then the station went to commercial.  Then they came and wheeled me off to the operating room.

As I drifted off to sleep before the surgery, my mind was clouded by thoughts of Will and Damian.  I saw myself dancing with both of them.  I saw myself in love with both of them.  How was that possible?

When the anesthesia started to wear off, I realized I was repeating Will’s name.  All I could remember was him crashing to the ground and not moving.  I needed to know if he was okay.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my cheek.  I thought Damian had changed his mind and come back, but when I opened my eyes, I saw Will staring down at me.  I thought I was hallucinating from the drugs.  I reached up to touch his face to make sure he was real.  I ran my fingers across his coarse unshaven face.  The prickly blond stubble assured me that he was real.  Then I remembered that I was mad at him and we weren’t together.  So, I quickly withdrew my hand and said, “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t let you wake up from surgery alone,” he whispered still caressing my face.  Oh, how he looked at me with those baby blue eyes.  He really did love me.

“How did you know I was in surgery?”

“I’m your emergency contact. The Academy called during the game and I came as soon as I got the message.  A painful silence fell between us.  “I know you’re still mad at me, but I love you and I know we belong together.”  I turned away from him. “You’re right you know. I need to see a doctor again.”

He paused and took a deep breath. When he started talking again, his voice quivered. “When my parents died, it shattered me. You were the first thing to make me feel whole again. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I know I screwed up big time, but we can go beyond that, can’t we?”

I turned to look at him then turned away again.  I closed my eyes tightly, trying to shut him out and then fell asleep.  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t shut Will out of my life.  Every time I opened my eyes, he was there.  Even when I went to the psychiatric ward of the hospital, he came and slept on the recliner in the room.  He had to be terribly uncomfortable but he never complained.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Madrid?” I asked when I noticed he was making himself comfortable in my room.  He’d actually had one of his teammates bring him some clothes.

“They backed out of the trade.  They think I’m mentally unstable. It wouldn’t matter anyway.
Lottomatica
is out of the tournament.  So, you’re stuck with me.  I’m staying by your side until you’re completely healthy whether you like it or not.” 

He stared at me from across the room with his sweet eyes begging me to forgive him.  He wanted his determination to stay by my side to be proof enough of his love.  He wanted me to be able to forget everything and take him back unconditionally.  I stayed silent, not knowing if I could do that. 

“When you get discharged, I’ll leave you alone forever if you want,” he said when I didn’t
respond,
turning his attention back to the basketball game he was watching.

When the psychiatrist came for the first time she asked Will to leave so that she could be alone with me.

“Do you speak Italian? My English is not so good,” she said when Will was gone.  “My name is Patricia
Giadorno
.” She continued once I assured her I was fluent in the language.  “Was that your boyfriend?” She was trying to make small talk and seem friendly.  She could tell from my body language that I did not want to be there.  It was obvious that I thought I didn’t have a problem. 

Dr.
Giadorno
stared at me waiting for a response.  For some reason, I couldn’t think of what to say.  Was Will still my boyfriend?  Was he my fiancé? Was he anything to me anymore? Just four days ago, I was about to get on a plane and live with another man.  Dr.
Giadorno
took my silence as resentment for the treatment she was trying to give.  She decided to try a different approach.

“Dr. Montero is very worried about you.  Six years ago, his daughter died due to complications from anorexia.  He doesn’t want that to happen to anyone else. He just wants me to talk to you.  I don’t know if you have a problem or not, but he is a good friend of mine and if he’s worried I will do anything to allay his fears.”  Dr.
Giadorno
put her pen and clipboard away and sat next to me on the bed.  She was relatively young with a good figure and beautiful smile, but behind that smile she seemed tired and overworked.  I wondered how many pathetic teenagers she tried to convince to eat every day.  I felt sorry that she had to waste her time with me when I obviously didn’t have a problem.  “So, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“What do you want to know?” I sighed, resigned to the fact that I was stuck there.

“I hear you dance.  Why don’t you tell me about that?” she said with a smile. I found myself unconsciously warming up to her.  It wouldn’t hurt to tell her about ballet.  I could talk about ballet to anyone.  I told her I was attending the
DiRisio
Academy of Dance and then somehow I ended up talking about the very first dance recital I saw when I was eight years old and how determined I was to take lessons. 

Before I knew it, two hours had passed and a nurse knocked on my door to bring my lunch.  I stared at the food in disgust.  Everything was high fat and high protein.  What were they trying to do to me?  Well, that was a stupid question.  Everyone in this place thought I was too skinny.  They were trying to fatten me up.

Dr.
Giadorno
stood by my bed even after the nurse left waiting for me to take my first bite so she could write down her observations or something like I was some sort of lab rat.  The food made my stomach turn, but I had to eat something or she might never leave.  I reached for the strawberry yogurt and thought of Anna Marie and how she would unconsciously start scratching herself at the sight of a strawberry.  Then I opened it, dug my spoon in and shoved a heaping portion of it into my mouth. I tried to smile while the thick sweet gushy mess swished around in my mouth, but suddenly I gagged and I spit everything back up onto the tray of food.  Everything was ruined and inedible in my book.  Dr.
Giadorno
grabbed a towel and started cleaning up the mess I made.  For some reason, I started crying.  Maybe something was wrong with me.

Will came back a few minutes after Dr.
Giadorno
left and silently assumed his regular spot on the recliner. 

“I know I’ve lost a little weight, but I don’t have an eating disorder,” I said suddenly after he’d flipped through several TV stations. I don’t know why I was saying this to him.  Maybe the silence was getting to me and I wanted at least one of us talking.  More likely, though, I felt I needed to convince someone other than myself that I was fine.

“It’s not only the weight that has people worried,” he said turning the TV off. “It’s your whole attitude around food.  For the past few months, everything edible has repulsed you.  That’s another reason I believed you were pregnant.  I thought it was morning sickness.”

“Maybe I just
… ”
  I didn’t know what I was about to say.  Thankfully, I didn’t have to think of anything because Anna Marie and
Raffaele
came in.

“Is your ankle so bad that they’re admitting you?”  Anna Marie asked when she had put the flowers she brought in a vase.

“They’re not admitting me because of my ankle.  They think I have an eating disorder.  I have to gain at least ten pounds before they even consider releasing me.”  Anna Marie and Will exchanged knowing looks. “What?” I said, thinking they knew something I didn’t.

“Will and I have been concerned about you for a while.  It’s not only the eating or not eating.  You sleep an extraordinary amount.  No seventeen-year-old should sleep that much.  We’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you to a doctor.  In a way, I’m glad you broke your ankle.  It forced you to come to the hospital.” 

I stared at her in disbelief.  How could she be glad I broke my ankle?  How could one dancer say that to another?  She had to be jealous of me.  She was jealous that I was better than her.  She just wanted to take my place in the company.  I told her this in no uncertain terms, making her eyes swell with tears.

“I know you don’t really mean that,” were her last words before she grabbed
Raffaele
and fled the room.

“How could you say that to her?”
Will
said
incredulously.  “Anna Marie has put up with so much from you.  She’s a true friend, unlike your sister who hurts you time and again, but you continue to forgive and defend her.  I don’t understand you lately.” 

Will got up and started to storm out of the room. Before he reached the door, I started crying.  Will turned and looked at me.  Then he came over to my bed and held me.

***

“So, where were we?”  Dr.
Giadorno
said as she sat on my bed like we were two girlfriends about to have a gossip fest. “Why don’t you tell me more about your sister?” 

I spent the next hour and a half talking about my sister and how I used to think she was perfect.  I told her about how she hid her true self from me for years and eventually got me expelled from Bridgeton.  And even though I now found it quite embarrassing, I told her how I recently accepted her back into my life and that she had betrayed me once again.  Dr.
Giadorno
listened intently, providing very few comments except to clarify my Italian once in a while.

“Why is it that you never ask me about my eating habits or anything like that?  Isn’t that why I’m here, because I don’t eat enough?”

“Usually, there’s an underlying psychological reason why people stop eating.  I’m just trying to find out more about you so I can make a clear assessment.”

“Well, what do you think so far?  Am I anorexic or not?” Dr.
Giadorno
sighed.

“Honestly, I think you have some self image issues and I think you’re depressed. For so long your self-image was tied up into two things. 
Dance and your sister.
  You sister was everything you thought you weren’t.  But then she didn’t live up to what you thought she was.  Then you move here and you fear you’re not the type of dancer you thought you were.  So then you’re left with nothing.  You had less than low self image; you had
no
self image.