Relearning Laura

David and another nurse help me up and a third nurse rolls a wheelchair over to me and sits me down and suddenly I am so tired. I am tired of fighting and struggling and feeling so hopeless and bleak. I am tired of living in a grey world. I am tired of living.

I can't stop crying, but it's a weak, weary version of the sobs that wracked my body just a few minutes ago. Mom and Dad follow David as he pushes me down a hallway and into an elevator. He presses the button for the fourth floor and the doors slide closed. Out of the corner of my eye I see Mom reach her hand out to me, then retract it. My heart aches. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be in a treatment center. I miss Rick. I miss Cassie. I want to go home and watch British television shows and snuggle with my cat. This is like the psych ward all over again.

The elevator doors open at the fourth floor and David pushes the wheelchair down a mint green hallway. The sound of laughter comes from behind one of the semi-closed doors. I don't hear any screaming or sobbing, which were ever-present sounds in the psych ward. So that's a good thing, at least.

"You have a roommate, Laura," David is saying. I snap to attention. A roommate? That should be interesting. "She's been here three weeks and she's a great kid. Very calm and level-headed."

"Oh, that's good," Mom says. I sigh and keep my eyes and ears peeled for other signs of life. David wheels me up to a door labeled 406 and knocks twice.

"Sandra already did my evening vitals," someone calls from inside.

"No, it's David. Are you ok if I open the door?" David replies. There is a pause, then the someone in the room says "Yeah, I'm good." David opens the door and pushes me inside the room. It is about the size of my room in the psych ward, but set up differently. There are two beds, both of them impeccably neat. Two desks with rolling chairs. Two dressers. One large wardrobe. Wood floor, pretty light green wallpaper on the walls, and a window looking out towards the woods. A girl is sitting on the bed closer to the door, the hood of her oversized sweatshirt pulled over her head. She is hunched over a large book, so all I can see of her is a curtain of straight black hair.

"Skylar, this is your new roommate, Laura," David says. The girl, Skylar, raises her hand at me without looking up from her book.

"Can I stand up now?" I ask David irritably. Skylar looks up at this and groans.

"Dave, you can't put everyone in wheelchairs. It makes us feel worse about getting put in here," she says matter-of-factly. David shrugs.

"It's standard procedure, Chung. I didn't make up the rules."

"Whatever," she says, and turns back to her books. David lets me stand up, so I walk over to the bed by the window. My bed. It has a pale blue blanket and white sheets and a single pillow. I glance over at Skylar's bed. She has her own blankets and pillows and sheets.

"Mom, can you bring me sheets and stuff?" I whisper. She nods. David pats me on the shoulder kindly.

"We're going to go get some paperwork done. You get settled in. I'll come get you when we're all set," he says, ushering my parents towards the door. Mom looks worried, Dad slightly annoyed.

"Okay," I whisper, turning away. I'm not entirely sure how this whole treatment thing works, but at Greenleaf, where Cassie went, she wasn't allowed visits until six weeks into treatment. That really worries me. Hopefully it'll be different here.

I start to put my clothes into the dresser on my side of the room. Folding my clothes and making everything neat and tidy has a calming effect on me. I don't feel quite so panicky anymore.

"So. David didn't tell me your name," Skylar says. I jump, then turn to her. She pushes her hood back, revealing dark slanted eyes and chapped lips.

"I'm Laura," I reply. Skylar smiles at me. She is very pretty when she smiles.

"Hi Laura. I'm Skylar. Welcome to Hope House."

"Thanks," I say. The awkwardness is painful, at least to me.

"Need any help unpacking?" she asks. I shake my head.

"No thanks. Thank you though. Sorry," I mutter. Skylar shrugs and flops back onto her bed to read. I finish putting away my clothes and lie down on my own bed, not sure what to do. I'm surprisingly warm, which is unusual considering I'm always cold. I sit up and glance over at my roommate. She's reading again, her nose close to the page.

"So, what's this place like?" I ask tentatively. Skylar puts down her book and sighs.

"It's not that bad, I guess. It was really hard for me at first. But it gets easier." She picks at her fingernails as she talks. "Overall everyone's pretty nice. There's eighteen of us now that you're here, the IP unit's completely full. There's also an outpatient unit but we don't do much with them other than a few outdoor activities."

"Wow." I'm not sure if that's the right thing to say, but it doesn't seem to matter, because Skylar keeps talking.

"Yeah, so first floor is admissions and the outpatient unit. Second floor's the dining hall and the staff offices and that stuff. Third floor's the therapy rooms and the classrooms and the boys' rooms. And fourth floor is girls and the group rooms and a common room," she tells me. I blink.

"There are boys here?" I ask. Skylar nods.

"Yup. Six of 'em right now. They're nice, you'll like them probably," she assures me. I nod slowly, absorbing this information. I knew that boys got eating disorders, but I never expected to be in treatment with any of them. To be fair, I never really expected to be in treatment at all. I'm not sick. There's no way I'm sick.

I flop back onto the pillow and sigh heavily.

"What's up?" Skylar asks.

"I shouldn't be here," I say, my voice quiet.

"Girl," she begins reproachfully.

"No, I'm serious, I'm not sick. I'm fine. I'm not skinny at all, I don't need to be in residential treatment," I protest. Skylar lets out a quick puff of air.

"Laura, you're definitely in the bottom three weight-wise out of the whole unit. So shut up," she snaps. "If you got put into resi then you need to be here. The end." Then she turns and faces the wall, her back to me. I roll over and bury my face in my pillow. I don't want to be here and I don't need to be here. This is so stupid. I'm gonna be stuck in this tiny room for God knows how long, with a roommate who already has a grudge against me.

Not to mention all the shit you're gonna be forced to eat. Lardo. Worthless. Disgusting piece of shit.

Yeah.

I know.