Faded Pink (gxg)

One

Sixty-four days, two hours, and thirteen minutes. That's how long it's been since I've seen my family. For my friends, it's been even longer. This wasn't by choice, but a small part of my consciousness reminds me that I decided to be distant from everyone, even before everything happened. Then again, people usually don't choose to get sick.

"Parks!"

I look up at the call of my last name. The nurse sitting behind the front desk waves me over. I close my Sudoku book and slowly push myself to my feet, my joints cracking in protest. I shuffle across the lounge, smiling as I approach.

"Hi, Darcy," I say as I cross my arms on the cold granite countertop.

She doesn't look away from her computer screen. Instead, her long nails tap away at the keyboard with impressive speed. "Is your mom coming to get you?"

I rest my chin on my forearm and blow out air. "She said she would be here by noon."

Darcy's fingers pause. Her bright blue eyes peer at me over the rim of her glasses. She turns in her chair to face the massive clock. The hands read 3:47. She slowly turns back to me.

She shakes her head and continues typing. "Would you like me to call her?"

I shake my head. "Can you call Sawyer instead?"

Darcy nods and picks up the phone, still typing with one hand. She pauses long enough to dial my brother's phone number. I chew my bottom lip. It's slightly problematic that she knows my family's phone numbers by heart.

"Right to voicemail," Darcy states and puts the receiver down. "Are you sure you don't want me to call your mom?"

I shake my head again. "No, that's okay. I can call a cab."

Pity flashes across Darcy's eyes. "You don't have any money, Avery."

I chew my lip again, looking out the glass doors that lead to the parking lot. "I could walk . . ."

"Avery," Darcy warns. "You know the rules. At discharge, you must be picked up by a family member."

"I know the rules." I wave off her words. "It's not that far. I can go down Elm and –"

"I know where you live, Avery." Darcy snaps. "I know exactly how far of a walk it is, and I know, for a fact, that you wouldn't just walk it. But you know the rules and what happens when you break them. So, either I call your mother, or I call Doctor Miller. Your choice."

I narrow my eyes but don't argue. I've heard the threat before, and I know better than to test Darcy. She always delivers.

I sigh heavily and shove away from the desk. "Try her work number. She's probably still at the office."

Darcy picks up the phone and dials my mother's work number.

I pace the lounge while she holds. My path follows the line of pale blue tiles that split the room in half. One side contains an assortment of chairs and couches, while the other has a foosball table and a broken pinball machine. It's tranquil for a Tuesday afternoon. Usually, there would be multiple people in the lounge, playing foosball, watching the outdated T.V. in the corner, or simply annoying whichever nurse is on desk duty. However, today is a special day – cinema day – so everyone except Darcy and me is gone.

My sneakers squeak as I reach the end of the line and turn on the balls of my feet. I cross in front of the welcome desk, glancing over to Darcy as I pass. She points towards the chairs and mouths the word 'sit.'

I do as I'm told and sink into the plush leather couch. Its cushions are lumpy and worn from years of troubled youths. I open my book to my unfinished puzzle and uncap my pen.

"Yes, this is Darcy calling from Second Course Recovery. I'm trying to reach Danielle Parks." Darcy pauses and sighs. "Yes, I can hold . . . again."

The corner of my mouth twitches toward a smile. How ironic to name a facility for people struggling with eating disorders 'Second Course'. As if any of us even wanted a first.

I was shy of eighteen the first time I was admitted to Second Course Recovery. I collapsed in the shower, slammed my head against the side of the tub, and fractured my cheekbone. It wasn't until then, seeing my frail body, that my parents had an inkling that something was wrong. So when I woke up in the hospital bed, they told me I was coming here.

Over the past few years, I've been in and out of Second Course four times, each sentence longer than the last. During my first residency, I was assigned to Doctor Miller, a no-nonsense woman with the best fashion sense I've ever seen. She's not the type to tell you what you want to hear. Instead, she genuinely cares and wants to see every one of her patients succeed. Unfortunately, whenever I check myself back into Second Course, I feel like I'm letting her down.

Aside from the nurses, I never see the same people. A bulletin board near the front desk holds photos of everyone's discharge day. Every time I returned and saw my friend's smiling faces on that board, I was jealous. It's a bittersweet feeling to know that people I've met have been released and are moving on with their lives. Part of me resents them for it. What did they do differently? What am I doing wrong?

"Avery,"

Darcy's voice pulls me from my thoughts. I blink. My hand hovers over my book, the black pen bleeding a dark ink dot through the page. I cap the pen and shut the book, finally looking at Darcy.

"Your mom will be here in twenty minutes."

"Did she forget?"

I can see Darcy's hesitation. "Yes."

I nod once and look back at the glass doors. The late afternoon sun casts warm light onto the dull floor. I watch the particles of dust dance lazily in the air.

"I'm sorry, Avery."

"It's not your fault," I say softly. "This isn't the first time."

And it won't be the last.