I've Learned to Play on the Safe Side

I had gym first period after lunch. We were doing fitness tests. And today we had to run the mile. Zip-a-dee-doo-da.

I considered faking sick, but figured if my parents found out I had left school campus without their permission and then bunked out of class I would really be in for it. Not like they could really do anything more to me.

I was sweating already by the time we climbed the hill that led to the track. I got in place at the starting line, and the teacher blew her whistle. All the kids around me took off, sprinting and racing each other.

I officially decided in that moment that the rest of the world was crazy. How could anyone even consider running in this heat? I had had to change into my gym t-shirt and shorts, and I was still hot. I had thought there was some kind of ban against temperatures above 70 degrees in October. I slowly began to walk around the track. One of the teachers screamed at me to hurry up, that I needed to at least try. I ignored them.

The dizzy feeling had returned, worse than before. More than anything, I just wanted to lie down and sink my forehead into the cool, dewy grass. And the heat wasn't helping. My head was spinning. Whoever designed our school track must have been smoking something at the time, I thought. There wasn't so much as a square foot of shade along the quarter-mile entirety of it. It seemed like out of all the places in the world, the sun had decided to focus its energy on the surface area of this one little oval.

I had only walked about a sixteenth of a mile when I started to wonder how anyone was capable of completing the entire mile. I already felt like puking and I could barely muster up the energy to keep moving. The heat formed pools of sweat that settled in the crook of my neck. The feet in front of me were fuzzy and my head kept spinning. The puking feeling wouldn't go away. I was getting a headache from all the yells and pounding feet surrounding me. I decided I couldn't keep going. I had to sit down. I just didn't have the energy to move anymore.

I took a step towards the fence. And another. I was almost at the edge of the track when I collapsed.

[Two and a half days later]

I blinked, then decided opening my eyes was a stupid idea and closed them again. The cool darkness was back, a welcome contrast to the millisecond of blinding white light I now knew surrounded me. Where was I?

It took me awhile to realize I was clothed in only a paper robe. My first reaction was to feel completely naked. I always felt naked when anything less than my entire body was covered. My second reaction was to realize it was the paper robe that was allowing my skin to feel so cool.

I opened my eyes, very slowly this time. At first, the blinding light greeted me again, but soon, my eyes adjusted. I was on a metal bed in a room with white walls. Across the room from me was a sickeningly sweet picture of a farmhouse, painted in colors brighter than anything I had ever seen. I felt something plastic on my arm. I lifted it to get a better look. A plastic tube. What was a plastic tube doing attached to my arm?...

There was one on my other arm, too. And patches made out of the same material as Band-Aids were placed randomly on my skin. The kind of patches they give you at the doctor's office after you get a shot.

A lady in a white coat walked through the door I know noticed was part of the wall beside me. "You're awake," she said in that voice people use when they want toddlers to think they're happy.

"Yeah. How did you know?" She pointed to the moniter beside me. I hadn't even realized it was there. Jagged green lines covered it. The first half of the screen was covered with fairly flat, even lines. The second half showed more up and down variations.

I let out a groan and laid my head back on my pillow, covered in a paper cover. So I was in the hospital. Why the hell should I be in the hospital? So, yeah, I had been going to therapy, but I had been getting better, even my therapist had said that...

I tried to remember what had happened. Everything was fuzzy. The last thing I remembered was gym class. And refusing to run the fucking mile. What had happened after that? I had sat down, but after that? I racked my brains. I didn't remember getting up. Had I fainted? It had been about a million degrees, I recalled.

The nurse was saying something. I hadn't been listening. I cut her off. "Why am I here?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, 'Why am I here?'"

"Oh, you collapsed. One of your gym teachers called 911. Our records show that it had something to do with malnutrition and a lack of sufficient energy sources."

I didn't hear that last part. I didn't know or really care what my collapse had to do with malnutrition. I was just glad I had gotten out of running the mile. Maybe even the entire school day. Maybe I could even get a doctor's note and not go for the rest of the week.

"So... uh... how long have I been here?"

"Two days and ten hours."

"Two... what?!"

"Two days and ten hours. Now, your family is very anxious to see you, and I'm sure you're very anxious to see them. I'll give you five minutes and then I think I'll let them in-"

What did this woman think I was? A display in a museum? I had just woken up and maybe I wasn't in the mood to talk to anybody. "No."

"Sorry?"

"No, damnit. I don't want to see my family. Except Jamie can come in, if she's here."

"Um, well, your sister's at home, but your parents had just dropped by to see how you were doing when the moniters showed you were awake..."

"Well, I don't want to see them."

"Ash-"

"No one calls me Ash."

"Well, then, Ashlee, I'm sure your parents would be thrilled to see you. After all, they've been checking up on you regularly, and now that you're awake-"

"If you hadn't told them to check up regularly, do you still think they'd be here?"

"Of course! They've been coming in almost every single day, when they know we would contact them immediately if any developments were made!"

"I still don't want to see them," I said stubbornly.

"It's understandable that you want some time to rest. After all, you've just suffered a major breakdown. Let me know when you're ready for visitors."

"Are you sure Jamie's not here?"

"I'm sure she'd be eager to visit if your parents contacted her. She's been very worried about you."

"Alright. I'll see my parents if they bring Jamie."

Twenty minutes later, my hard-faced parents were led into the room, followed by an ecstatic Jamie.

"Ashlee! You're alive!" Jamie threw herself at me.

"Jamie! Ashlee just woke up." My mom tore my little sister away from the bed. "Everyone's so glad you're feeling better, honey."

"Glad you're awake, kiddo," my dad said gruffly, before turning to the nurse and answering her questions. I heard the words "eating disorder" and "distressed" come up more than once.

My mom and I talked like normal human beings for the next few minutes. I noted in the back of my head how weird that was. I had treated her with contempt for over a year. And look at us, having a civilized conversation.

After awhile, the nurse and dad stopped talking and the nurse said I should rest a little while. She said I would probably be able to go home in a week or so, as soon as the doctors were satisfied my body was supplied with all the right nutrients. She also recommended extra therapy sessions.

"Can I just talk to Ashlee for a couple more minutes? Puh-leaze?" Jamie begged, using that lookit-me-I'm-three-years-old-and-completely-innocent strategy that my mom adored.

"If that's ok with Ashlee's nurse, honey."

Jamie gave the nurse her best puppy-dog eyes, which of course the nurse fell for. Her and my mom were so shallow to not see through Jamie's best act it made me want to laugh out loud.

"'Bye, honey," my mom said, kissing me on the forehead. I cringed as her lips touched my skin.

"See ya later," my dad, ruffling my hair as I was still cringing. I didn't return either of their farewells.

Jamie sat on the bed when my parents had left the room, leaving only us and the nurse.

"I called Alex when I found out what happened," she said quietly. "I guess he called Jake, because the two of them were here at the same time as me- as soon as school let out. The doctors wouldn't tell them anything, because they couldn't claim any legit relation to you. Jake looked really, really worried when he asked me what I knew," she added meaningfully.

The nurse had not-so-subtly been creeping closer to the bed, obviously trying to listen in on our conversation. Jamie obviously noticed this, and continued, much louder than necessary, "OHMIGAWD, and you know what else she told me? About that kid I was telling you about, I mean?" And she pretended to whisper something in my ear.

It took extreme effort and inside-of-cheek-biting to refrain from laughing. The nurse walked back towards the door. "Anyway," Jamie continued, "Mom got really surprised when she saw I was talking to them. But they've both been calling me, like, every second. Jake every half second. It's almost getting annoying. He's really, really worried about you, Ashlee. He's gonna go in a coma or something if he doesn't find out you're ok. I told him I'd tell him when you woke up and he could call you on my phone or something. Then he got quiet for about a second and was like 'No, it's ok. I don't want to talk to her if she's not cool with it. Just call me when she wakes up.' So, um, I know it's none of my business, but-"

The nurse seemed to have gotten tired of us having a conversation across the room and her not being let in on it. "Alright, Miss Shanti, time's up. Ashlee needs her rest."

Jamie reluctantly stood up, giving me one more meaningful look. The nurse seemed only to eager to lead her out the door.

The room suddenly felt very big and incredibly empty. I was no longer grateful for the cool the paper robe provided and instead felt a desparate urge to more adequately clothe myself. I wanted to throw something at the painting across from me. It was too bright to be allowed to exist.

I didn't like feeling confused. I had been confused so much during the first few monthes it was an emotion I had gotten completely sick of. Part of me still wanted to hurt Jake. That part had once dominated my brain. But now, the bigger part of me wanted to embrace Jake, or at least make him feel better in some way. He didn't deserve anything I had given him. I had treated him like complete crap. And he still cared. He still wanted to make sure I was ok. It almost wasn't human. Shouldn't he hate me? Shouldn't he be unwilling to forgive me?

I stayed awake for awhile that night, but my exhaustion from the collapse overpowered my thoughts [which didn't make any sense, considering I had been practically sleeping for over two days straight]- thoughts which ranged from how much I hated Jake for being so perfect to the best way to tell him I was sorry.