Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Four - Cadillac Days

*MILD TW* Hello Everyone,

Jen here - I just wanted to let you know that this particular chapter does not discuss any explicitness to do with mental illness. However, whilst the general theme is still eating disorder recovery etc. Please exercise caution with your own experiences in mind!

Chapter Four

Cadillac Days

I am sitting on bed number six in the paper dolls ward – my bed – with my bags packed and waiting for my mother to pick me up after work. It has been three weeks since my grandmother's funeral and cuts no longer ache. The food tube has been freshly removed and I keep rubbing my cheek, seeking the sensation of it tugging across my skin. For the time being, I have been sufficiently swollen with sugary water.

The light outside is fading fast and a strange pinkish hue is now turning the clouds into candy floss.

I wear the butter-yellow dress that is my mother's favourite with a woolen cardigan embellished with appliqued roses.

My legs swing over the side of the bed, twitching rhythmically. Usually, the nurse on duty would reprimand this movement, questioning my motives. But I'm leaving, so for once, she leaves me alone.

I while away the time by examining my thighs. I consider how cruel it is that once you sit, they seem to double in size. A science teacher I had in my last year of formal education once had told us that the skin is the largest organ. Now, I can understand that. With the wretched tube removed from my nose and my lunch tray lying nearby entirely eaten, I feel like a doll stuffed to the brim with straw. I almost expect to see the sides of my thighs splitting at the pressure of my fullness.

During my stay, I have complied with all the doctors have asked of me. I cried in my therapy sessions and gave lengthy answers to short questions. I ate and ate and ate until my face became flushed once more and my eyes shone. I accepted their congratulations at my progress and lied that my journal was my therapeutic form of expression.

Three times a day, I swallow four different types of medication. I have been positively submissive. All this, I did for one reason. For today. When I would be discharged, and see Henry and Harmony once more.

When my mother found me in my ensuite three weeks ago, Harmony had been with her. She had seen my blood pool around the metal legs of my weighing scales and the contortion of my skeletal body curled on the floor.

She had thought I had been attacked, my mother told me in one of our group therapies.

Henry was the one who called the ambulance as my mother held my wrists shut and screamed for help.

Now I need to make things right.

At the sound of the click-clacking of heeled sandals coming from the outside corridor, I pull up my socks and brush my hair through with my fingers.

"You'll be fine, Everleigh," A young nurse named Clara says to me as she comes to collect my file from the hook at the end of my bed. She is the kind of nurse than I can positively describe as jolly. "You look beautiful and so much healthier."

Healthier is code for fat and fat is a synonym for disgusting. I think this, but I hold my tongue and force out a wide smile, as the doors at the end of the ward swing open.

"Mom," I say in a breath of relief when I see her around the corner. Compared to the funeral, she looks radiant and much more like herself.

Her blonde hair is pinned into tight curls and her trademark golden snowdrop shaped earrings are in place. She wears a dress too and bright red lipstick. Combined with her large sunglasses propped onto her head, she is glamorous.

"Everleigh," She answers curtly.

From the age of five, I have known how my mother feels by how she says my name. Now, I know that she doesn't forgive me for what I did. I think, perhaps, she hates me. The next few moments happen quickly. She signs the papers and inspects my bags to see that I have packed everything, never once meeting my gaze.

Outside, the sun is almost gone but the air is warm, though it is only early April. She walks several paces ahead of me. This is not the same dense silence that I felt after my grandmother's burial, but rather steely.

"Where's the car?" I ask. I couldn't spot the silver Range Rover anywhere.

"I brought the Cadillac."

When my parents got divorced when the twins were just three years old, my father had left my mother the bright red Cadillac – his real firstborn child – in exchange for paying less maintenance for his children. Now he works somewhere in the Maldives as a restaurant critic and we haven't seen or heard from him since unless you count birthday cards.

The thing about the Cadillac, however, is that it's a two-seater. Despite knowing this, when I see it with the roof off, I still hope to see Harmony and Henry fighting for space in the back, clamouring over each other.

What I do see, however, is my mother's large brown suitcase, seemingly bursting at the seams.

I stop walking, because I know what this means.

"Where are we going?" This wasn't going to be a we situation, I know that much.

The sigh that escapes my mother's lips could likely be heard three towns over. It is full of irritation and contempt. My heart sinks. She's sending me away again. This will be my fourth in-hospital stay.

Each time I've gone, I've come back worse, but it gives her a break from me.

"There's a facility that is over three hours away from here. It's much smaller to anything you're used to. I think it's worth a try, Ever."

Guilt swells in my chest as I hear the weariness in her voice. When she turns to me the half-light casts her face into shadow and accentuates her wrinkles. For the first time, I can imagine her as an old woman like No-No was.

"I made a call last week and a space freed up. I packed your things – everything that's important to you is there."

"I don't get to go home first?" We both know I am asking about the twins.

Miraculously, my mother's expression shifts to guilt now too. Even after all I have put her through, she still feels guilt for me.

"It's best if you don't see them. They're still far too upset about what happened and I cannot risk their happiness like that again." The worst thing about hearing all of this is knowing that she's right.

In a heartbeat, I could hear Harmony's whimpers in her sleep whenever something is bothering her, and see Henry's long eyelashes soaked with sadness.

I can do nothing but nod and agree. If I am not wrong, I think my mother looks relieved that I am not arguing with her and making a scene.

"Come on."

Once in the car, the silence is tinged with two different shades of sadness; her worry at making the wrong decision, and my dejection at losing the twins at my own hands.

My mother turns up the radio on high and pulls out of the carpark. 

Hi All,

I hope you're enjoying Evergreen Everleigh so far! Any feedback is well appreciated as always and I hope you're excited to visit the wonderful world of Freesia Fields in the next chapter. Thanks so much for reading,

Jen x