Manorexic

Chapter Five

Cameron had been ushered, without his suitcase which was being throughly checked, into a small room with gray walls, two beds and yellow sheets after he was done being checked over and discussed. His company was his mother and doctor, with Ariel just outside the door. She had a fear of hospital rooms.

"You don't currently have a roommate, you might not have one your entire stay, you might gain one halfway through. It depends on how fast our beds fill. You're further down the list, so I'd say don't expect any company." This doctor was short, plump, and smelled of oatmeal. He couldn't help but wonder if that's what  he'd be like after recovery, mildly unhealthy in a completely different way, smelling of bland food and hopelessness. "Your family can help you unpack as soon as your bag is checked, and then say their goodbyes. The nurse at the front desk has the days and times you're allowed to visit, calls are accepted at all times minus meals and support groups. Once he gets his schedule, he can personally notify you of those times. I'll take a look at your paperwork, and get you assigned to an in-hospital psychiatrist. As soon as i've got you matched with one, i'll come back in to give you your appointment time. Your family will need to be gone fifteen minutes before then."

With that, the doctor was gone and his mother ushered Ariel. He scanned the room once more. The bed frame, an outline essentially with not bars or rails on the headboard, was made out of a plastic feeling material, the dresser had padding on all the sharp edges, words in sharpie littered over the fronts and sides, all the furniture was bolted to the floor. The blinds were controlled by a lever, no pull strings. The window looked to be made of un-openable plexiglass. The half-cracked doors flashed back into Cameron's mind. It wasn't a privacy thing, they were attempting to prevent suicide. He turned to his mother, who's back was to him talking to someone in the hallway.
"Your suitcase was approved, minus your belt and your shoelaces. Good luck wearing those..." she said.

"You can take my sneakers home, I don't think I'll be going anywhere that I'll need them for a while." He replied. Not having his belt wasn't much of an issue, either, none of his jeans even half fit him. He mostly ran around in sweat pants and his favorite hoodies, it wouldn't be much of a wardrobe change... just all of the strings from his clothing had been removed. Together they unpacked, filling the top two drawers of the dresser with his belongings, scattering a few knick nacks across half the top of it. He wanted to keep everything evenly divided, 2 drawers to himself, half the top of the dresser, half the cupboard to hold his clothes, and his bed and side table just in case he'd ever get a roommate. On the night stand next to the lamp, he laid his glasses case (the ones he never wore) and his favorite book, The House of the Scorpion, and a highlighter. Any line that jumped out to him, he'd highlight. It's how you kept track of the good parts. They stepped back and looked over the room, his deodorant and other personal items were arranged neatly on the dresser, the covers were slightly disheveled from Ariel sitting on them.

"It looks so sad..." Ariel said, "even with the yellow sheets."

"Yeah, well, I feel like once you realize you're killing yourself, the scenery during recovery doesn't really matter so much." Cameron said. He hadn't meant for it to sound so harsh, but he couldn't help but be slightly angry at her. At one point during the unpacking, Cameron's mother had gathered all the strings from the waistbands of his pants and the laces through his hoodies and took them to give to the nurse station that had the rest of his "weapon" belongings, and Ariel and himself had been in the room together.

"So..." he had said. "You're here."

'Yeah, I am." She replied.

He sighed, "any reason?"

"Where else would I be?" she replied. He didn't ask her context, he didn't care. The way he had heard it was that she hadn't any other place better to be, so she might as well of came. Maybe she had just shown up to see if he'd actually go, maybe she wanted to be part of the drama, but he didn't care. The way she had said it had hurt, and he didn't need harsh words or sarcastic tones at the moment. It was taking everything in him not to run already.

Even though, seeing Ariel's face drop when he had said that he was killing himself made him feel slightly guilty. He was just about to speak before there was a tap on the door, and then it swung open. It was the same doctor as before.

"Cameron has been placed with his psychiatrist, an appointment has been made and I will need you two to leave now." Cameron's mothers eyes welled up with tears, and his would probably of done the same if he wasn't so exhausted. She opened her arms and engulfed him in a hug. Cameron brought his arms up slightly and rested them on his back. He felt Ariel's finger tracing his back, and he pulled away from her. The more he thought of it, the more he thought she was an awful person for what she had done. He was emotionally unstable- sure he didn't know his diagnosis but he had to be, didn't he? He was starving himself for no reason, he couldn't control the feelings he felt and he hadn't be happy, truly happy where you can feel it deep deep in your gut, in so very long- and she left him. Lord knows what he would of done if he had been in the vulnerable place he entered sometimes, mostly late at night with some sad indie or rock song floating in the air, he might of never made it here. Then what would his mother had been left with? The three bedroom house she had bought with the man who she loved most, two bedrooms for her kids, but she only ended up having one because she almost died with the first, a room full of things, her sons things, that he would never use again because he had taken his own life, memories memories memories.

She was wrong in what she did, and he was no longer sad at the break up. He was mad.

He pulled away from his mother, completely ignoring Ariel when she held her arms open.

"I love you." He said.

"More over more." She replied.

He watched them leave and turned his attention to the doctor still standing by the door.

"We do not take anything lightly here. You will eat when you are told, and if you do not you will have an hour long therapy session and try again. You will be permitted to exercise as it is good for your health, but only under intense doctor supervision. Your current rules are only set to your main reason for admission, anorexia nervosa, but if you are found to have any other illnesses you will be notified of those rules as well. There will be no form of exercise in your room, if you are caught your door will promptly be removed..." Cameron knew she had continued talking, however, he couldn't focus on anything she said. That word kept repeating in his head. Anorexia. Anorexia. Anorexia. Anorexia nervosa. He was anorexic, and it hadn't hit him until just then. He was anorexic, and he was dying. Then, he realized something even greater: he didn't want to die. These thoughts he were having, this sadness and pain, it wasn't right. It was okay, and it wasn't what he wanted.

"Do you understand, Cameron?" she said. He blinked out of his thoughts and nodded.

"Good. Then lets get you to your appointment."