Don’t Touch Me I’m Prickly - Part IV
Last week, Celine, Solly, Genna, Emily, and Jules snuck out. After a trip to Starbucks, they went to a bowling alley, where Celine got surprising news and got into a fight with the others.
Everyone at the bowling alley was huddled around lane fourteen, where three paramedics in full fire gear stood with notepads, asking Emily and Solly questions, and pretending not to notice how gaunt they all were.
“So you’re telling me she fainted, then she got up, and then she left?” asked the taller of the guys.
“Right,” Solly said. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Okay,” he said, writing it down.
Celine watched a group of girls give her the up down, then snicker to each other. They were voluptuous and confident and proportional, in crop tops and jeans slung low across their hips, v-necks that exposed cleavage they were clearly proud of.
“And you said you’re from—an addiction center?” the second paramedic asked.
“An eating disorder center,” Genna said. “Jules is bulimic. She faints sometimes. It’s—don’t they teach you about this stuff? In school or whatever? It’s a symptom. Like, part of the refeeding process or whatever. It elevates her heart rate. She got emotional, which made it worse, so she fainted, and then she left.”
“Got it,” he said. “And is there anywhere she might have—a place you all hang out or something?”
“No,” Genna said. “This is the first time we’ve ever snuck out. We don’t even know Jules’s last name.”
The taller of the two sucked in a noseful of air, then let it out slowly. “We’ll do what we can,” he said. “But that’s not a lot of information. We recommend that you call around to hospitals and stuff, if you want to, but she could have gone anywhere, and she’s not really a missing person—people are allowed to, you know—free will and stuff. Unless she has a warrant out. Anything like that?”
“No, no,” Celine cut in. “Nothing like that.” As soon as the words were out she realized she actually had no way of knowing. It wasn’t like it had ever come up.
“Alright,” he said. “Well, let us give you all a ride back. We don’t want any more fainting.”
Solly and Emily looked towards Genna. “Should we wait? In case Jules comes back?” he asked.
“I’m not coming,” Celine said. “I’m going to stay here and—fall in love with the shoe guy or something.”
“Cut the shit,” Solly said. “Seriously, Celine.”
“He’s right, let’s go back,” Genna said. “She knows where to find us. And we’ve had enough activity for one day.”
“I won’t,” Celine said.
“Fine,” Genna said. “Come on, let’s go.” They started walking, and Celine felt more alone than she ever had in her entire life. Maybe this was what Dr. Shibori was referring to when he’d warned her that feelings, which she’d been numbing for her entire life, would start to return. She wanted to crawl out of her skin.
“Wait,” Celine said. They hadn’t even made it to the front door yet. “I’ll come.”
*****
They filed into the group room, even though it was five minutes after dinner time. Delaying meal times could earn them a single demerit. This had been made very clear to Celine during orientation.
“So,” Dr. Shibori said. “We were able to get ahold of Jules,” Dr. Shibori said. “She is doing fine, all things considered.”
“Are we waiting for her to come back before dinner?” Genna asked.
“That’s the bad news,” Dr. Shibori continued. He looked at the ground and raised his eyebrows. His eyelids took up way too much of his face. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, and Celine watched as a flake of dandruff fell from his shoulder to the ground. “By leaving,” he said, “Jules breached her insurance stipulation. Actually, you are all in violation of the agreement we set forth with insurance companies.” He let that sink in. “But I’m not going to tell the insurance companies that. Unfortunately, since Jules did faint, and because an ambulance was called, we had to get insurance involved, and they've deemed her an unnecessary risk. Jules won’t be coming back. We’ve let her know that if she faints again, she should go to an emergency room. But unfortunately, insurance companies don’t take kindly to refusing rules.”
“But she could die!” Genna said.
“That’s true,” Dr. Shibori said solemnly. “I understand it’s disappointing.”
“It’s not dissappointing, it’s fucked,” Celine said, surprising herself. “Jules doesn’t even have parents to go back to. Where is she gonna go? Like, Jules legitimately needs help.” She wondered how Dr. Shibori would frame this to Mrs. Shibori: it was totally out of my control, I did the best I could. She’d probably rub his back and tell him he was amazing at what he did, that he shouldn’t sweat it, that he was saving lives left and right. She’d be wrong, though.
“Yeah,” Solly said.
“Unfortunately, it’s not my choice, and it’s entirely out of my control. It’s one of the hardest things about this job.” Dr. Shibori looked out the window. “I’d love for Jules to rejoin us here. But that’s not possible. All that I can do is help the people who are here in this room—that’s all of you—to process this event, so that we can prevent this from impeding your recovery. To that end, Jules has been instructed not to contact any of you.”
Guilt and shame crept into Celine’s chest, red hot and painful. Of course this was her fault. Of course she fucked up everything, and of course her mom was dead, and of course Dr. Sonnenberg wanted nothing to do with her, and of course now that she had a baby Celine would never hear from her again, and who was she to think that she wanted a relationship with her dad, who was a grade A dick—worse than her dead mom, even—and she felt the pizza absorbing into her fat cells already, and she really, really, really hated everything.
“Celine? What’s coming up for you?” Dr Shibori asked. Everyone else shifted in their seats.
“I wonder—I said some shitty things to her. I’m not a monster.” She felt tears threatening the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of Dr. Shibori and Genna and Emily and Solly. She hated crying. She hated how messy it was. It would have been different if she’d been a neat crier.
“No one thinks you’re a monster, Celine,” Dr. Shibori said.
“She was, like, way ahead of me. She’s younger than me.”
“What do you mean by that?” Dr. Shibori asked.
“Like, she knows she’s gay, and I don’t know anything about myself.”
“Do you think you could be gay, Celine?” Dr. Shibori asked.
“I could see it,” Solly said.
“Probably not,” she said, ignoring Solly, “but like, that’s the thing. Maybe. I mean, I could be anything. I could be a great painter. Or good at sales or architecture. Or into, I don’t know, BDSM or escargot. I’ve never—like, tried anything.”
“And that’s okay, Celine,” he said. “You have time. I said this to Solly, and to Genna, and to Emily, and to Jules, too. These are resilient corridors. And not in a metaphorical sense.” He gestured toward the rest of the unit. “They can take a beating, and have, many times. What I mean by that is: you’re here to learn and explore and try things. For some people, that means punching a wall.”
“Are you condoning violence?” she asked him.
“I’m condoning exploration, Celine. Making mistakes and learning from that. Living with less rigidity.”
“To less rigidity,” Solly said flatly, holding up a Dixie cup of water.
“Ryan wasn’t my boyfriend,” she said, ignoring Solly. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Go on,” Dr. Shibori said, his smile a thin line. The pizza from earlier made itself known in Celine’s stomach, her anger like bits of caramelized sausage. “This doesn’t work!” she wanted to scream. She pictured the pizza tearing her open from the inside, her guts like tomato sauce on carpet. She inhaled. Then on her exhale, she let everything out: the condom and the Plan B and the babysitting money and the chocolate milk and the cake pops and the shaved vagina and the broken dishes and the babysitting offer and Ryan being a #girldad and @JulianaYogaLife. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.
*****
Dear Celine,
I’m emerging from two weeks without sleep, and I’m happy to share that Baby Benson is a beautiful, healthy little boy. I’d send photos, but he’s still in that phase of looking beautiful to David and me but maybe not anyone else. Don’t tell him I said that! I had a thought. We’ll need a sitter, and we have an in-law unit. Maybe you’d like to work for us—no pressure, of course—but once you finish treatment, you could live here for a while, take care of Benson and think about what’s next. You were so good with Laura, who’s almost three now and absolutely miffed at the idea of sharing her parents. More capable hands would be a godsend. No pressure, but it’s an option, if you want it.
HJS
*****
Dear Professor S,
Congratulations!!!! And oh my god, yes! The problem is, that sneak out thing? Well, I got someone kicked out, and I feel really fucking bad about it, and I want to say yes to your offer, but I need to first not be a person who cries over cake pops and then is a dick to people who are kind. It’s not that I want to get better exactly, but I see a world in which one day maybe I would want to…. Would you be willing to wait for me?
Celine
Phoebe Kranefuss is an MFA candidate in Fiction at the University of Wisconsin–Madison. She studied English Literature at Bowdoin College, she's taught fourth grade, worked at an eating disorder clinic, survived entry level sales at a tech company, and spent some years in tech and advertising. When she's not writing, she's biking, running, reading, or crafting. Her work has been published in the Breakwater Review and Slackjaw, and she's at work on her first novel, Girls Our Age.
Follow her on Instagram, Twitter, and check out more of her work here.