Lacey wasn’t enamored of the idea, but she told her mother it would be okay.
A nurse came into the room to remind Lacey of her appointment with Dr. Rosenberg. “I’m glad we talked,” her mother said as Lacey was ready to start down the hall to Dr. Rosenberg’s office.
Lacey admitted that she was glad too. It was the first time for as long as she could remember that she and her mother had actually talked without recriminations or lectures. “Will you see Dr. Rosenberg again?”
“Yes. He’s helping me immensely. I know your father’s seeing him too.”
“Then it’s a family affair,” Lacey observed. “Sort of ironic, don’t you think? Now that we’re not a family anymore.”
As the nurse walked her down the hall, Lacey knew that if Dr. Rosenberg could bring about change in her mother, then perhaps it was time that she came clean with him. If she did, however, would he recommend that her diabetes management be taken away from her? She decided it was a chance she’d have to take if she was ever going to get out of the hospital and back into a normal life.
With heart pounding, she went inside his office.
Sixteen
LACEY TOLD DR. Rosenberg about the talk with her mother.
“You sound pleased,” he said, steepling his fingers together and peering at her through them.
“I guess I am. I mean, all we usually do is yell at each other. Or, rather, she yells and I tune her out.”
“It’s not an uncommon pattern for parents and teenagers.”
“So if you’re making progress with Mom, how’s it going with my father?”
“I haven’t seen him as frequently. He’s been bogged down in his business.”
Lacey felt a twinge of disappointment.
“But he tells me he’s visited you while you’ve been here,” the doctor added.
“Oh, yes. Of course, never when Mom might pop in. I hate being juggled between the two of them like a bouncing tennis ball. It wears a person out.”
“Is that how you feel? Like a tennis ball?”
“Sometimes. It’s better that they’re divorced, you know. Our house was like living in a pressure chamber all the time.”
“And now? How is it now at your home?”
“All right, I guess. More peaceful.” She gazed toward the window. The afternoon sun was slanting through the partially closed blinds and casting striped shadows along the wall of Dr. Rosenberg’s office. Although the shadows were horizontal, they still reminded Lacey of prison bars. Suddenly, without warning, her eyes filled with tears. “I miss being a family,” she said softly.
“Your dad says he sees you often. Is that true?”
“He calls it ‘dates.’ He’s taken me to a play and a few movies, then out to dinner. But it’s not easy to make time, because I have things to do at school and he travels.”
“Don’t you enjoy the time together with him?”
“I don’t want a date with my dad.” Lacey sniffed and wiped away the moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I want us all to live together. Be together.”
“But you also said the two of them can’t get along when they live together.”
“So why can’t they? Other people do. What’s so hard about working out problems so that you can live with someone?”
“Are you angry at your parents because they can’t get along?”
Many times, she’d been disgusted with them, irritated at their inability to communicate and work out their differences. She remembered the trip up to Jenny House the previous summer. They’d fought and argued the whole way, and by the time she’d arrived, she felt ready to throw something. It was no wonder that when she’d marched into the room determined not to stay around a bunch of sick kids all summer, and Katie had come on like Miss Congeniality that Lacey had snapped at her and sulked the first few days. “I guess I am angry at them,” Lacey told Dr. Rosenberg. “I know kids my age who can get along with one another better than my parents can at their age.”
“And how about the divorce? Are you angry about that too?”
This was a more difficult question to answer because her feelings went deeper than anger. It was an anger coupled with a sense of helplessness. “I’ve already said that the divorce made life more hassle-free for us.”
“But does it make you angry?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I don’t want to be part of a broken home. Whenever kids at school talk about their families, it bothers me because they have two parents living together and I don’t.”
“Surely some of them come from single-parent families. Or maybe step families.”
She thought of the people she really cared about—Jeff, Terri, Katie, Chelsea—they all lived with both their parents. Even Todd had parents who’d remained married. She looked at Dr. Rosenberg. “I know there are lots of kids who come from split homes. But I don’t like being one of them.”
“So you’re angry about what you can’t change.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” she countered sharply.
He didn’t answer her, but instead asked, “What have you done to let your parents know you’re angry at them?”
“Nothing,” she grumbled. “There’s nothing I can do. They didn’t ask my permission to get their divorce. So they wouldn’t listen to anything I said. Or wanted.”
“Often, when someone makes you angry, you want to take revenge on the someone who hurt you. That’s a typical human response.”
“Revenge?” Lacey scoffed. “How can somebody get even with parents who dump each other?”
“Are you certain you have no power, nothing in your control to get back at them?”
Baffled, she struggled to grasp his meaning. “I can’t get even with them. There’s no way.”
He tapped his fingertips thoughtfully against the top of his desk, where papers had been stacked into several wire baskets. “I want you to think about what you control that they don’t. Think about what you can do to make them miserable and helpless, feeling the way you felt over their divorce.”
“What I control?” She puckered her brow. “I’m sixteen, I don’t control—” She stopped talking as insight washed over her in a flash. She glared at him, feeling he’d tricked her, made her think of something that was outrageous and farfetched. “My diabetes,” she said flatly. “You’re saying that since I control my diabetes, I used it against my parents. That’s not true!” She stood up, knocking over her chair.
He looked up at her and took her hand. “It’s your most potent weapon, Lacey. Don’t be too offended by the suggestion. Would it surprise you to know, diabetic patients use it quite often?”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” She was fairly shouting at the doctor. “Losing control of my diabetes on purpose hurt only me! I’m the one who ended up in the hospital.”
His round, Santalike features lit up with a smile. “Ahhh! How right you are.”
She was still mad over his suggestion. “I’m telling you that was never once in my mind when I—” She stopped her denial cold.
“When you what?” Dr. Rosenberg asked. “Come on, Lacey, tell me what you did.”
She righted the chair and sat down heavily, all the fight gone out of her. “I was going to tell you anyway. I know I blew my control, but only because I wanted to lose weight, not get even with my parents.”
“How did you choose to diet?”
“I juggled my insulin doses.” Her heart pounded as she confessed where she’d made mistakes. She took a deep breath and added, “And sometimes, if I ate the wrong stuff, I’d make myself throw up.”
He nodded, but no expression of shock or disgust crossed his face. “Would you believe that close to thirty-five percent of diabetic women have eating disorders?”
“I don’t have an eating disorder.”
Dr. Rosenberg continued speaking, his voice calm and nonjudgmental. “Anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa are two disorders that plague women eighteen to forty-five. Most often it’s teens who have the problem
. Binge eating and the guilt it causes is bad enough in the general population, but in the diabetic it’s disastrous. It wreaks havoc with blood sugar levels and metabolism. It’s often life threatening. You were lucky this time.”
She fiddled with a piece of paper on the edge of his desk rather than look at him directly. “I hate being fat.”
“According to weight charts, your weight’s well within normal limits and has been for years. Maybe it’s the fashion industry that gives you girls an unrealistic message about body weight and appearance, but so many women cling to the idea that thin is better.”
“Sometimes I feel fat,” Lacey argued.
“And when Type I diabetes is diagnosed, it’s usually after the patient is in the grip of keto and has become greatly dehydrated. Once insulin levels are restored, the patient experiences rapid weight gain and rehydration. Unfortunately, a lot of women get scared because they’re fearful of becoming overweight. So they begin a regime of insulin manipulation and purging to knock off what they think is excess weight.”
“It’s easier to lose weight if you give yourself less insulin,” Lacey said defensively. “Especially if you eat the wrong stuff.”
“But didn’t Sue explain to you that there are no wrong foods for you to eat? You just have to plan for them.”
“And what fun it is,” Lacey declared, her tone edged with sarcasm. “All your friends are partying and eating anything they want, and you’re stuck with your meal plan.”
“People with illnesses have to make compromises. Much like people who are married and can’t get along,” he said quietly.
His logic had brought her full circle. Her parents had never learned the art of compromise and now, if she was going to manage her diabetes, she would have to become a master of compromise. Lacey suddenly felt tired and defeated. There was no way to win this war, she decided. Jeff’s words about asking and knowing why something happened returned to her. He was correct—the answers couldn’t change anything. They could only help a person to perhaps understand and learn to live with whatever happens.
She looked straight at the doctor. “I don’t plan to mess up again. I won’t force myself to throw up anymore.”
“I don’t think you’re a true bulimic, Lacey,” Dr. Rosenberg said, tilting back in his chair. “I think you got caught up in something and it got out of control. But you’re smarter now and you have a whole team of professionals who want the best for you. You’re intelligent, bright, and very attractive. There’s no reason in the world that you can’t control your diabetes instead of it controlling you.”
He stood, took both her hands, and pulled her to her feet. “And speaking of controlling, your parents are out of your hands too. They’ve made their choices for their lives. But you have many choices ahead of you. Make the ones that will bring you health and happiness.”
If only it were that simple, she thought. But at the moment happiness seemed like a recipe for which she didn’t have the ingredients. Nor was she certain where to begin looking for them. “I’ll try,” she told Dr. Rosenberg. “I promise … I’ll try.”
Seventeen
HER UNCLE GAVE her permission to leave the hospital long enough to go out with Jeff on a date. Jeff took her to a quiet, romantic restaurant, where she carefully chose a dinner of all the right foods, prepared in all the right ways, from the menu.
Afterward, they walked hand in hand in Biscayne Park on a promenade that ran parallel to Biscayne Bay. The night was balmy and a light tropical breeze stirred the palm fronds overhead. A full moon shone across the water, and in the distance they could see the huge Caribbean cruise ships at anchor.
Lacey told Jeff about most of her session with Dr. Rosenberg, excluding the part concerning purging. She decided the image of her forcing herself to vomit wasn’t very romantic, and besides, she was ashamed of what she’d done.
She asked, “Do you think he could be right about me being mad at my parents and using my diabetes to get back at them? I’d hate to think my subconscious mind could make me do something like that.”
“Shrinks love all that subconscious stuff,” Jeff said. His smile looked sexy in the moonlight. “But it’s true that sometimes we act in ways we don’t mean to. I think we make excuses for ourselves because it’s easier than changing the way we’re acting.”
“Well, I didn’t set out to get even with them, but when I was sick at least they stopped fighting with each other. For once they were concentrating on me and not themselves.”
Jeff nodded in understanding. He asked, “Has your uncle said anything about when you might go home?”
“Another day or so. ’Course, I still have to meet with Dr. Rosenberg even after I leave the hospital. And there’s no way I can get out of attending one of the support groups Uncle Nelson’s been wanting me to join.”
“That shouldn’t be so bad.”
Lacey wrinkled her nose. “I’m just not crazy about the idea, that’s all. He says that when the institute opens, it’ll have plenty of programs and stuff to do. I promised him I’d be a regular little girl scout.” She saluted smartly.
“You’re always such a good sport,” Jeff joked. “I don’t see why your uncle puts up with you.”
They strolled over to a bench that fronted the bay, and Jeff pulled Lacey down next to him and draped his arms over the back of the wooden slats. The moonlight glittered on the water and reminded her of sparkling jewels. “Amanda used to say that moonlight and starlight were really fairy dust,” Lacey observed softly.
“Do you think about her much?”
“I think about Jenny House and about what a good time I had while I was there. Did you know I went back for a visit during Thanksgiving weekend?” Lacey asked.
“No, I didn’t. Why?”
“Katie sent me an airline ticket. Chelsea wanted all of us together when she and her new friend Jillian went to Jenny House.
“And Katie paid your way?”
“Yes … with some of her Wish money.” The mention of Katie sent a shadow across Lacey’s heart.
“That Katie’s something else,” Jeff said. “I’ve never known anybody quite like her.”
Lacey felt a lump swell in her throat. “I miss her, Jeff.”
“Haven’t you patched things up with her yet?”
Lacey shook her head. “I don’t know how.”
“You pick up the phone and tell her you’re sorry. You are sorry, aren’t you?” When she nodded, he said, “What’s so hard?” He glanced down the sidewalk toward Bay Walk, the trendy shopping area located in the park, adjacent to the bay. “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her behind him.
“Where are we going?”
“To the nearest pay phone. You call Katie right now.”
Lacey felt her mouth go dry as soon as she dialed Katie’s number using Jeff’s calling card. “She’s probably not home,” Lacey told Jeff as she listened to Katie’s phone ringing in Michigan. “She’s probably off doing something with Josh—Katie! Hi, how are you?”
“Lacey?”
Katie’s voice sounded so familiar and sweet that Lacey almost started crying. “Yes, it’s me.”
An awkward silence stretched between them. Katie broke it by asking, “So are you out of the hospital yet?”
“Almost. I—I’ve been working out some stuff with my doctors. I—uh—have diabetes, you know.”
“I know. Are you sure you do?”
“I do now.” Jeff nudged her in the side, and Lacey shot him a look that said Don’t rush me. Lacey squeezed the phone receiver tightly because her hand was perspiring. “I’m sorry, Katie,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry about our fight on the phone when you called me at the hospital. You were right about everything you said.”
“I didn’t mean to sound unsympathetic,” Katie apologized. “I got angry and I shouldn’t have … especially with you so sick. But, Lacey, I’ve never seen anybody deny the obvious the way you do.”
“Well, I’m not denying it anymore.” She
cut her eyes sideways. Jeff gave her a grin and a thumbs-up signal. “Guess who’s here with me?” Lacey said into the receiver. “Jeff.”
“No lie? How did that happen? Have you changed your mind about him?”
“I can’t discuss it now; he’s standing right here.” She hoped Katie wouldn’t pump her for more information. Katie was the only person in the world who knew how Lacey really felt about Jeff, and she didn’t want it to all come out. Especially when Jeff was treating her more like a friend and sister than a girlfriend. He still hadn’t made a move to kiss her or be romantic with her the way he had at Jenny House or the beach party.
“Hey, Katie!” Jeff yelled into the mouthpiece of the receiver.
“Tell him hi from me,” Katie said with a laugh. “And when you can, call me and give me every single detail of what’s going on. I can tell we have a lot of catching up to do.”
“So you’re not mad at me anymore?”
“I could never stay mad at you, Lacey. We’re ‘forever friends,’ remember?”
Forever friends was the way Jenny Crawford had signed her Wish letter. “I remember,” Lacey said, feeling as if a ton weight had been lifted off her heart. “How’s track going?”
“We’re smoking everybody.” Katie’s voice sounded all smiles. “My team’s coming to that track meet in Miami in May for sure.” It seemed ages before that Katie had mentioned the national event to Lacey. “You’ll come cheer for us, won’t you?”
“You bet. I’ll bring Jeff with me. Will Josh come with you?”
“Our men’s team isn’t going to qualify, but Josh will come anyway as our coach’s helper. There’ll be several college coaches at the meet scouting us contenders. If I’m ever going to be offered a scholarship, this will be the time.”
“That’s great. I hope you do get an offer. So, are you and Josh doing okay now?”
Katie’s abrupt silence spoke volumes to Lacey. “We’ll talk more later,” Katie said.
Lacey told Katie that Chelsea had written and that she sounded fine, they promised to call each other again over the weekend, and Lacey hung up. She turned to Jeff, smiled, and said, “Katie still loves me. Thanks for making me call her and get things straightened out.”