Lois Metzger - A Trick of the Light

You’ll do what you have to do, to get out of here.

Nurse: “You start out on the liquid diet. You’ll sit with other patients who are also on the liquid diet.”

She leads Mike to a small table where three girls are drinking from large bottles labeled Ensure. Mike has heard of it. It’s supposed to make you gain weight. Mike sits. He is given his own bottle. He can’t bring himself to drink it. The nurse is watching him. Mike takes a sip. It tastes like strawberry milk. But—the whole bottle? It’s not normal, he thinks.

It’s the opposite of normal. But you have to. This is no time to be stubborn.

The girls introduce themselves—or at least two of them do. One is Cheryl and the other is Allison. Mike forgets which name belongs to which girl. One has olive skin and green eyes like his mom. The other is blond and has a long neck. They’re not that thin, and Mike wonders how they ended up in an eating-disorder clinic. The third girl is the only one who looks thin. She’s not drinking her Ensure. She has dark stringy hair that hangs in front of her face, and she stares ahead as if looking at something nobody else can see. It’s like she’s not here, Mike thinks.

She is somewhere else. That’s brilliant. She’s found a way to be herself, even in this hostile environment.

Cheryl or Allison (to Mike): “That’s Nina. She doesn’t talk much.”

Nina. She reminds me of Amber. She’s beautiful. Maybe a friend for Mike.

Nina is not like the others. Neither are you.

Cheryl or Allison: “Are you from around here?”

Mike: “Belle Heights.” Blank stares. “It’s in Queens, New York City.”

Cheryl or Allison: “Oh, I love the city!”

Mike doesn’t bother to tell them that Belle Heights isn’t the city, not really. Cheryl and Allison talk about how much they love it, and one of them says she took a double-decker tour bus and actually looked in a second-story window and saw a guy in his underwear. Hilarious!

During the afternoon, Mike is taken to the rec room. Some kids are drawing; some are sculpting clay. One girl writes in a journal. Mike sits on an itchy couch.

That night, Mike lies on his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He thinks about doing crunches and push-ups, but his door has to stay open and there’s a nurse right outside his room. He feels like he’ll die if he can’t work out.

Think of Nina. She’s found a beautiful space for herself, away from here. You can do the same. You’re running. The air fills your lungs. You are strong and getting stronger, infinitely strong. Now, dry your eyes.

Mike touches his face, surprised that it’s wet.

IN THE MORNING, MIKE STARTS THE ROUTINE.

• 7:00 a.m. Knock on the door (which stayed open all night).

Mike looks out the window and sees that all the dead leaves are gone. He must have slept deeply, right through the leaf blower.

I can’t believe I’m here, Mike thinks. I don’t belong here.

You are not really here. This is not your real life.

Strong body, strong mind, Mike thinks. Everything in its right place.

A nurse unlocks his bathroom and just stands there. He splashes cold water on his face. He doesn’t look at his reflection. When he leaves the room, the nurse locks the door.

• 7:30–8:00 a.m. Breakfast.

A bottle of Ensure. Mike knows which name belongs to which girl now. Cheryl has green eyes and Allison’s the blonde. Nina, silent, is far away.

• 8:15–8:45 a.m. Exercise class.

It’s a joke. You sit on a hard floor and reach for your toes, then you stand up and bend. Mike looks around and sees that several girls have serious muscles and probably exercised for hours at home. But other girls seem to find even this amount of activity strenuous. One girl breathes so hard, Mike is afraid she’ll pass out.

• 9:15–9:40 a.m. Personal time.

Mike sits on the enclosed porch, which overlooks the grounds. A nurse is at a desk just outside.

• 9:40–10:10 a.m. Snack.

Another bottle of Ensure.

Cheryl and Allison talk about missing their pets. Cheryl has a ten-year-old yellow Labrador who needs hip surgery, and Allison is deathly allergic to dogs but has a poodle because (it turns out) poodles have hair, not fur. Mike, bored, mentions his cat. Nina is smart. She doesn’t say a word.

• 10:15–11:45 a.m. Group therapy.

Mike sits in a circle with ten girls from his wing and a doctor named Richard. Richard has a ponytail. He introduces Mike to the group. Then the girls talk. And talk. And talk.

One girl just got caught hiding high-fiber bars in her hair dryer where the batteries are supposed to be.

Girl who hid high-fiber bars: “Looking in my personal belongings constitutes illegal search and seizure.”

Richard tells her that because high-fiber bars are laxatives, she has lost the privilege of walking her tthe grounds tomorrow.

Another girl says she used to eat everything in sight and then throw up so much at home that all the pipes in her bathroom had to be replaced.

Girl who destroyed the pipes: “It cost a hell of a lot of money.” She grins.

It makes no sense. Mike has such sublime control, and he’s stuck here with girls who are nothing like him, compulsive girls who have zero control.

• 12:15–1:00 p.m. Lunch.

More Ensure.

Mike is starting to panic. He can’t handle all this stuff in his system. He feels it, taking up space.

Amber was always such a big help. Maybe Nina can help you, too.

After Cheryl and Allison get up, Mike turns to Nina.

Mike (quietly): “Do you know a place I can go, to work out a little? Is there a room somewhere that’s not locked, where they can’t see you?”

Nina: [nothing]

Mike: “C’mon, tell me. Don’t keep it a secret.”

Nina: [nothing]

She would tell you, if she knew. She’s on your side.

Nina looks down. Mike realizes he’s got his hand wrapped around her forearm. He feels like he’s holding a bone. He lets go.

• 1:15–2:30 p.m. Individual therapy.

It’s Mike’s first appointment with his one-on-one therapist. She looks Indian. She’s not unattractive, with long dark wavy hair, a silky scarf around her throat, big eyes like a cat’s, and jasmine perfume that fills the air. She sits on a couch, and Mike sits opposite her in an armchair.

Therapist (with a slight accent): “Hello, Mike. My name is Darpana.” And she spells it for him: “D-a-r-p-a-n-a.”

Mike: [nothing]

Darpana: “Do you know how sick you were, to be brought here?”

Remember Dr. Steiner? Tell her what she wants to hear. You didn’t know what you were doing, but you’re here now and you want to get well.

Mike: “I didn’t know what I was doing. But I’m here now, and I want to get well.”

Darpana looks at him. She might not be as stupid as Dr. Steiner.

Darpana: “Why do you think you went from one hundred fifty-four pounds last spring to one hundred three in November?”

Well, you needed to burn off a lot of fat. But you can’t tell her that.

Mike: “Wow, that’s really bad.”

Darpana: “You were starving yourself, Mike.”

Mike: “I was wrong to do that.”

Darpana: “I saw the results of your blood test.”

Don’t listen anymore. She is not worth your attention.

Mike is able to tune her out. I listen, so he doesn’t have to. Darpana says Mike’s electrolyte levels are abnormal; his serum potassium levels are too low; the hair on his shoulders and stomach is called lanugo, and it sprouted, apparently, because Mike has zero body fat, and getting heat to the heart, lungs, and kidneys takes priority over the rest of the body, and the body is doing whatever it can to keep warm. She has no idea, of course, how good Mike felt, how the cold doesn’t matter, how none of it matters when you’re fit and strong, a master of chaos, in total control.