Page 9 of #Beautiful

“Exactly.” Gretchen shrugs as she smiles at me.

“I don’t know the first thing about any of that. But, honestly, the purging happens when I’m super anxious. It just makes me feel like I’m in control of something. Ya know?” Taking a sip of my coffee, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, anger flashes through my body at Declan’s text message.

Declan: Hey, baby. Justus and I are done studying. Want to grab an early dinner?

I scoff and roll my eyes before locking the screen and setting my phone on the table. Looking up, I catch the sideways glance between Torrey and Gretchen.

“Listen,” Torrey says, sitting forward, “you feel out of control. The purging works for you, but to gain real control, you need to figure out how to use the purging or whatever your coping mechanism is to settle and keep that chaos in check.”

“Right,” Gretchen says, smiling at me encouragingly. “So, let’s start with your weight. You said that Jackie girl has been throwing it in your face, and then today, your boyfriend was talking shit. That is something you can control, something you can make how you want, and then maintain through your purging.”

I let the conversation roll around in my head. Part of me thinks it’s strange that there’s other people, girls like me, that have gone this route to feel better, but at the same time, it’s kinda nice. Torrey and Gretchen are two people I could actually open up to about stuff, and they aren’t going to judge me or demand I stop or try to control what I do the way I know Declan and our friends will.

Nodding, I look up and smile at them. “Okay, so tell me about the whole food journal thing and what I should be paying attention to.”

Torrey and Gretchen smile at me and each other, and we all lean in as they take off on educating me on healthy purging and chaos control through food.

Chapter 8 - Declan

Justus and Jackson talked me into pizza and pool since Lena hasn’t texted me back. It’s been an hour, and I’m getting a little worried. Not that she has to keep a constant line of communication, but usually, she at least responds or tells me she’s busy. Something. She’s never really been the ghosting type.

“Dude,” Jackson says, startling me, “after this game, we’ll go back to the house. Even if she’s not there, she’ll be home at some point.”

Sighing, I step up to the pool table and line up my shot. As the cue ball sends one of my colored balls into the far corner pocket, I huff a bit in frustration. “I keep trying to fix things, and shit gets worse.” Stopping at the other end of the table, I line up another shot and, in my haste, miss by a mile.

Justus grabs his pool stick and steps up for his turn. “Maybe you should stop trying to fix it. Just be the guy you are, the guy she loves, and let things fix themselves. When she’s ready to talk, she will.”

Jackson chuckles. “I think we should all stop pretending like we know a damn thing about chicks, regardless of how long we’ve been dating them. I’m pretty sure I’ll be married to Candice for forty years and still not get her moods sometimes.”

I can’t help but chuckle. When I was younger, my dad used to tell me that the moment a man thinks he’s really figured a woman out is the same time his goose is truly cooked. Now that I really think about it, I do act like I know everything about Lena most of the time. I can think of a dozen times I’ve uttered the words ‘I know you’ in an argument or something.

“Okay, so I back off more, just go back to being me, right? And how exactly do I make the anxiety go away where she is concerned? Because I don’t see that just disappearing any time soon.”

Justus sinks the winning ball and stands, leaning on his stick. “See a doctor, dude. Your anxiety isn’t her problem. Yeah, you definitely need to let her know you’re suffering from it and that you’re going to get help, but it's yours to deal with at the end of the day. Your sister taught me that lesson.”

His mention of Darcy brings me up short. “Wait, what?”

Justus raises his eyebrows. “Darcy didn’t tell you that she started seeing a therapist over the summer?”

Putting my pool stick on the rack, I turn toward him, shaking my head. “For what? She hasn’t mentioned anything to me or my parents that I know of.”

“That’s because you don’t know much outside your own bubble lately, Declan,” Justus says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Darcy struggled with adapting to the pressure college brings and started having panic attacks toward the end of last year. When y’all went home for summer break, she had your mom help her find a good doctor and then transferred to the mental health clinic in the Medical Arts building. She goes once a week for therapy and has monthly meds checks.”

My jaw drops a little. “And she’s okay? Like is she doing better?”

Justus smiles. “Yeah, man. She hasn’t had a panic attack in like three months, so it helps. And I see the look on your face. You’re her twin, but you aren’t her. She isn’t obligated to tell you everything, and she didn’t hide this from you because you did anything wrong. Like she told me, she can let people know, but at the end of the day, it’s her job to deal with it, and that’s what she’s doing.”

As we head out of the pool hall and walk toward the PTF house, I pull my phone out— still no text from Lena. “Do you think Darcy would be weirded out if I asked her about the clinic? To see if it would be a good fit for me?”

Jackson chuckles. “Knowing Darcy, she’ll tease you for twenty minutes before calling and setting up your intake appointment for you.”

He’s probably right. Darcy really turned her life around since high school. But she’s still my twin, and there isn’t a chance in hell she’ll miss an opportunity to pick on me. The car accident I almost died in our senior year of high school didn’t stop her from making catheter jokes, so yeah, Jackson is right on the money. The guys are all jokes as we keep walking, but my gut is in knots.

Lena, if I did something, please tell me. I know we’re struggling, but I’m trying, and I can’t fix stuff if I don’t know it’s bothered you.

The house is a block away when my phone dings, sending my heart hammering in my chest. Lena’s name on my screen makes me nervous. Opening the message, I hold my breath.

Lena: I know. It’s just been a rough day. I’m at the house with some friends if you want to come say hi whenever you get back.

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