༺ TWENTY - ONE ༻
Newt plops down next to me with a sigh, and starts putting his shoes on.
"Where are you going?" I ask, not really looking up from my phone until he replies.
"Hospital."
I nearly drop the device. "What? Why? What happened?"
He chuckles, sighing out. "Just a checkup for my leg. Mom is convinced this hospital does know how to fix it."
"The other hospital knew too, but they also knew the risk of that kind of operation," I say. "Should I come with you?"
It's Tuesday. I don't have anything on Tuesdays.
Wait, one week ago... the fair. I can't stop the butterflies when I'm reminded of it again.
"Okay." Newt gets up. "It's a long drive, though. Sure you won't mind?"
I nod. If it was me in this situation, I'd rather not attend the hospital all alone and maybe even explain how I got that limp all alone. "Of course not. Come on."
Soon, we're sitting in the car. I turn the volume of the radio up, and for once, Newt doesn't mind.
Probably because I'm not playing Tchaikovsky now (The Swan Lake, Nutcracker, and other ballet music).
Newt hums quietly to The Smiths as I just full on sing with them. Still, he doesn't mind.
Which I'm glad about. The weeks after his attempt had been hard. It was undeniable Newt got moody fast, or had mood changes, at least. He might've not had any outbursts or anything the previous two weeks, but he wasn't the happiest either.
"How're you feeling?" I wonder, lowering the volume once we've gotten to a song I don't know very well.
I decide to not add the fact I meant emotionally.
"Today? Good," he says. "Kids at school are sweet. They're making up all kinds of stories to find out what happened to my leg."
I chuckle at that. "What's the greatest theory so far?"
"That my 'slim sticks of legs' get muscles in the middle of the night and that I turn into Batman, until it went wrong and I broke my leg." He laughs.
I laugh, too. "Oh, wow. Imagine! You in a suit, saving the city."
Well, I can't imagine that Newt, with the beige sweater and fluffy, brown jacket, saves the town at night.
And me, now with wide pants I stole from Sonya and a big sweater, neither.
I'm wearing these oversized clothes so Mom won't pull another action like weighing me, once she sees my body in those tight clothes again. Besides, I feel more comfortable like this. No one can see anything of my body that's underneath the material, so they also can't give me the looks that seem to have gotten more judging by the time.
We arrive at the hospital. It's a very casual one. A white, enormous building with a lot of hallways and doors and nurses. Bright side of this, Newt has a small chance of getting better treatment here.
But even though I'm using the habit of seeing things from the positive side, I still dislike being inside the hospital.
Memories of when we almost had to drag Newt out of the building once Alby got cancer flash through my mind. That call we got from the old lady that found Newt unconscious below the building. The way Mom's face paled when she heard, and how panicked Dad was as he drove us to the hospital.
They refused to tell Sonya and I what happened until the nurse explained the whole situation in front of us. Mom and Dad had only known a few parts. The puzzle pieces clicked together when our parents remembered how Newt had been acting before, but they still couldn't know if he actually jumped. Turned out, he did.
A shiver runs down my spine before we walk into a room, since a nurse called for us. Inside of that room, there's a bed, devices and medical equipment, two chairs in front of a desk, and one chair and a male behind it.
His goatee attracts most of my attention as I sit down next to Newt. He's got a bit of a stern face, but the sweeter eyes say enough. He's really here to help.
I sigh to myself. Of course he's here to help. He's a bloody doctor.
The man holds out his hand for both of us to shake. "Vince Cooper, but Vince is fine."
I like it when people who are supposed to be neat aren't that formal.
"Newt," my brother says.
"Rose," I say. Not that Vince is gonna check my leg, but I'm in presence and he's shaking my hand, so why not?
Also, Cooper is the same last name as the nurse in England's hospital. Mary Cooper.
Again, I mentally sigh at my delusion. Just because they have the same last name doesn't mean they're related.
I think I'm just a bit tired today.
"Alright." After Vince asked Newt to sit down on the white bed, he takes some equipment. "I'm just going to be doing some tests. See where most of the pain is so we perhaps could get you medication to ease pain and maybe even your limp. Or surgery," he adds the last words with a cock of his head. "That okay?"
Newt nods. "Sure."
There's not much up to watching Vince check Newt's leg. A bit bored, I lean back in my chair, though I still don't regret coming. Just the feeling I was there for Newt, even if he didn't need me, is pleasant.
"There's magazines on that shelf," Vince says. He's suddenly looking at me, as if he knows I'm bored. "They're all about health, but usually quite interesting."
I nod before taking a look. My eyes fall on a magazine about body health, and I grab it while my pulse goes up, as if anyone would be aware of my diet and why I'm choosing this magazine.
Consuming a healthy diet throughout the life-course helps to prevent malnutrition in all its forms as well as a range of noncommunicable diseases (NCDs) and conditions. However, increased production of processed foods, rapid urbanization and changing lifestyles have led to a shift in dietary patterns. People are now consuming more foods high in energy, fats, free sugars and salt/sodium, and many people do not eat enough fruit, vegetables and other dietary fibre such as whole grains.
Blah, blah, boring things about diets that I already know. I flip the page.
To prevent weight gain or to continue losing weight, people with anorexia usually severely restrict the amount of food they eat. They may control calorie intake by vomiting after eating or by misusing laxatives, diet aids, diuretics or enemas. They may also try to lose weight by exercising excessively. No matter how much weight is lost, the person continues to fear weight gain.
I flip the page so fast it causes both Newt and Vince to look up. I crack a smile, but my stomach twists.
I know those things are close to what I do, but I'm not bloody anorexic. I eat. I don't exercise excessively. Girls at my old ballet school have dealt with these things and I don't relate to any of the symptoms they had, so I assume that's perfect.
I'm just on a diet until... well.. I don't know. Until Janson and I are both satisfied, but I only get satisfied when the number lowers, so I'll keep it going until he speaks to me about it. Which he hasn't done yet.
Sooner or later, Newt finishes his checkup. He's sent to another room to discuss some things, leaving me here with Vince, who cleans the things he used up and makes the bed so the prints Newt made while sitting on it are gone.
"Any interests on the medical side?" Vince wonders from the other side of the room.
"No," I say. "Well, not as in a future job, at least. But it's still interesting."
"It is," he agrees, running a hand down his goatee. "And it's nice to see some of the youth is interested in body health. A lot of kids don't care at all, these days."
If only he knows how much I care.
I smile. "Yeah."
"Are you feeling alright, though?" His eyes run over my face. "I don't mean it in any rude or offensive way, but you're paler than what's normal. Does the hospital make you feel sick?"
I shake my head, sliding my hands deeper into my sleeves. "I'm fine, thank you."
"You're cold," it barely sounds like a question.
"It's fine," I say fast. "I just get cold very fast."
A frown makes his eyebrows scrunch. "Since you were young? Or has it just started?"
"Only just started," I answer. My eyes trail down to the magazine before I put it back, no longer interested.
"Have you been feeling dizzy lately?"
"Aren't we here for Newt?" I'm glad I don't sound snappy for once. It's just a soft question, though it doesn't calm my anxiety on the inside.
Vince glares around. "I don't see any Newts here."
I manage a wider smile. "I think it's just low iron. If I get up too fast or move too fast, I get lightheaded, but again, I'm alright."
"Okay, then." He closes his laptop. "I'm sure your brother is almost done. He's in the room next to us."
I get up, nodding. "Thank you."
At the door, he calls my name and I turn back to the concern written on his face. "Make sure you eat well," he tells me.
He knows, is my first thought. He knows because he's a doctor.
"I will," I say.