It's My Life - Melody Carlson [48]
So Jenny and I went to the pool room and tried to play a game of pool, but I could tell she was really weak and everything, so I finally convinced her to just sit down and rest. And then she started to cry.
“I don't know what to do,” she sobbed. “I don't want to go to West Haven–I don't want to be analyzed by a bunch of shrinks or take a lot of stupid pills–and I know they'll put a feeding tube in me if I don't eat–and I just can't stand to think of that.”
I leaned over and hugged her and she continued to cry, really pitifully–just like a hopeless little kid. And I felt so totally bad. I didn't know what to say or do or anything.
But then I did something that completely surprised me. Something I've never done before (and don't know if I could ever even do again). All I can say is that it must've been a God-thing. Because without even thinking it through, or asking if it was okay, I just started to pray for her, right out loud! I can't even remember exactly what I said when I prayed. I mean, I think I basically prayed for normal stuff like her being able to eat again, and also that she'd ask God to help her, and even that she's be healed from this horrible illness. Stuff like that. But anyway, by the time I finished praying, she had stopped crying and was sitting up and studying me carefully. And then (to my surprise) she said thanks and that she felt better.
Well, she seemed pretty much exhausted to me, and I suppose I felt a little embarrassed (why is that?), so I suggested maybe she'd like to rest some, and then I left. But I prayed for her some more as I drove home.
I called her just a little while ago to see how she's doing, but her mom answered and said she'd gone to bed. I asked Mrs. Lambert if she thought Jenny might like to go to church with me tomorrow, and she said she'd let her know I'd invited her. But something about the way she said it suggested that she really didn't want Jenny to go with me. So then I asked how she thought Jenny was doing.
“Don't worry about Jenny,” she said kind of abruptly (as if I have no involvement in this thing at all). “She's had some problems, but we're getting her the very best of help. Everything is under control now.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No. Just let her friends know that she's going to be fine. And she should be back at school in no time.”
“Does this mean she's going to West Haven?”
Mrs. Lambert cleared her throat. “I don't know how much Jenny has told you, Caitlin, but her father and I would greatly appreciate your confidentiality in this matter. This isn't the sort of thing we want circulating all over town.”
Well, I felt as if I'd been slapped, but I managed to conceal my hurt. “Of course,” I agreed. “Jenny is my friend. I just want for her to get better.”
“That's what we want too. Thank you for calling. I'll let Jenny know.”
I hung up and just stared at the phone. They were taking her to West Haven. Poor, poor Jenny. Then Mrs. Lambert's words echoed in my mind: “Everything's under control,…” and that's when I began to cry.
Despite my “promise” not to tell anyone, I called Beanie (swearing her to absolute secrecy) and asked her to keep praying for Jenny. “I think her mom is part of the problem,” I explained. “It seems like she really tries to control Jenny. And according to some things I've read, anorexia is all about control.”
“Well, then maybe she'll be better off at a place like West Haven,” said Beanie with her ever-practical rationale.
“But it's just what she didn't want.”
“Sometimes we don't know what we really want.”
“I suppose.” I sighed deeply. “I just feel like a lot of this is my fault.”
“Caitlin,” she began in what sounded like her I'm-about-to-give-you-a-lecture voice. “You can't take care of everyone, you know. I mean, I realize how you have this very compassionate and caring nature, and a tendency to get pretty involved in other people's lives. But you need to understand that everything is NOT your personal fault or responsibility. People make their own choices. You've got to accept