Page 11 of Saving Shepperd

My parents weren’t thrilled with the whole relationship at first, but they seemed to be warming up to the man.

“I’m thinking about doing some fishing at the pier. Want to come along?” my dad asked, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the conversation.

“I don’t think so, Dad. Thanks for asking, though. Why don’t you ask Clemmie? She likes that kind of thing.” Honestly, no matter what activity he had up his sleeve for the day, I wouldn’t be interested. Hanging out with him all day would make me miserable.

He had a way of getting me to open up to him without even knowing it, and I didn’t have the energy to be on high alert all day. He didn’t hide his disappointment at my rejection, but I wasn’t in the mood to be guilted into spending my time making other people happy either.

Why didn’t anyone spend their time worrying aboutmyhappiness?

“Can you shut the door on your way out? I think I’m going to try to sleep a bit more while the house is quiet,” I asked, not being subtle about being finished with our little chat.

But instead, they came into the room farther and each took a seat at the foot of my bed.

Great.

“Can we talk?” he said while she studied me like a science project.

“Is that not what we’ve been doing?” I sassed back while sitting up against my headboard. My typical mouthy attitude always fell into place when I felt defensive. My dad tilted his head to the side and sighed. He had the lowest tolerance for my shit out of everyone.

“Your mother and I are worried about you, Shepperd.”

“Can we not?—”

“You’ve lost so much weight, honey, and we’re worried. We wouldn’t be doing our jobs as your parents if we sat by and watched you make yourself sick. We’d like to help you, but you have to let us.” He finished with a heavy sigh as though those were the hardest sentences he’d ever spoken.

“Look,” I began with very little patience. This conversation had gotten so old. “I’m fine. I eat every day.”

But as if I had zero input here, they charged ahead.

My mom spoke up next. “We think maybe talking to someone, a professional, that specializes in eating disorders would be a good place to start.”

“No.”

“Listen. As long as you live under my roof,” my dad said, falling back on his favorite threat since playing Mr. Nice Guy wasn’t yielding the desired result, “you’ll do what is asked of you. And this is in your best interest. Mom has been researching doctors in the area, and there are some of the finest in the world right here in Los Angeles.”

“You guys,no,” I said again and furiously squeezed my eyes shut to keep the damn tears that were welling up from spilling out. “Really, the answer is no. It’s an unnecessary waste of your money. If I don’t want to go, I won’t. I’m an adult, and you can’t make me.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a defiant stance, truly coming off the furthest from an adult as possible.

My dad took a calming breath. “Actually, we can. As the people supporting you financially, we make the decisions. If you aren’t going to take proper care of yourself, we’ll do it for you. Your mother and I didn’t want it to come to this. You understand that, right?”

“No!” I shouted then. How dare he play theyou forced our handbit with me. “I don’t understand at all. I told you I’m fine, and I am! You both have plenty of other things to worry about. Take me off that list. I’m not going to a shrink.”

He let out a slow, insufferable breath. “There’s only one other option here, Shep.”

“Oh?” I asked, ready to make any sort of concession. “And what is that?” Anything had to be better than seeing a shrink.

“There’s an inpatient program that has an opening,” he began, and I lost my shit.

Bolting up off my bed, the room spun while blinding black dots decimated my vision and made it impossible to gain my balance. I reached for the nearest piece of furniture so I didn’t faceplant. I was livid that of all the times for that to happen, it was while they were watching so closely.

In a flash, my dad was on his feet too, gripping me by the elbows to steady me.

“Baby, this has to stop. You’re going to kill yourself, and for what? Why? Who has put this notion in your head that looking like a damn skeleton is attractive or a healthy way to live?”

His plaintive tone nearly broke me. I knew what I was doing to myself. But I had it under complete control. But this…seeing that the way I abused myself was hurting other people… Well shit, that just added another layer to the fucked-up habits I’d developed. This was my issue, not theirs.

Frustrated, I tried to free myself from his hold, but he gripped tighter.

“You’re hurting me,” I said through clenched teeth as bile rose in my throat. “Let go,” I gasped and barely registered the panic on his face as he witnessed the transition.

---