Perfect. Part 26

And if I have kids, it will make her old.

Not the way to impress her friend flock.

I drop my head for the benediction- the final prayer that says we can go home. When I lift it again, I notice Dad has turned to stare at someone sitting in the foyer, Easter Sunday overflow. It's Conner. Escaped from Aspen Springs, hungry for communion?

No, he's flanked by some burly bruiser and a cute, dark-haired guy who looks very at ease here. More so than Conner, who looks close to panic, especially as Dad nears the door.

Mom hangs back, her motive unclear. Is it out of respect for Conner's s.p.a.ce? Or is it because of fear? If so, what is she afraid of?

Not Sure, In Fact Who looks more afraid, Conner or Mom. The sanctuary empties, and everyone crowds the food table.

I see Dad shake Conner's hand, say something that makes Conner nod.

If I can make my way through the meadow of people, I should probably say something too. Not that I know exactly what. "You look great, for a crazy person?" Maybe not. I turn to Mom, who hangs back behind me. "Aren't you going to say hi?"

She straightens, draws herself up as tall as she can, elevates her chin, lifts her nose into the lily-scented air. I suppose it is expected of me.

Expectations. Again. Wonder who she'll be more disappointed in- her suicidal, no-longer-perfect son.

Or his twin, the not-quite-out lesbian.

Kendra

Disappointment Can do a couple of things.

It can drop you into a giant sucking sinkhole of depression, a place you have to fight to climb out of. Or it can trigger an epic mania to overcome the odds and transform failure into success. Say you swing as high as the chains will take you because you seek the thrill of flight, and on the up- kick, you lose your seat.

Injury is likely. But if you worry about falling down, and never chance "up,"

the sky will remain forever out of reach.

Reaching For The Sky Is not such a hard thing to do, not when everyone around you keeps promising you have what it takes to touch it someday. I've always believed I can. But I've known for a long time that it's a long way up to that patch of blue, and sometimes it takes extraordinary measures to reach the stratosphere. Today I'm going for broke. Mom drives me to the hospital. Are you nervous, honey?

"Uh, let's see. She's going to make an incision in that flap that divides my nostrils.

Then she's going to pull my nose skin up between my eyes, exposing the bone and cartilage. Two hours restructuring those, and hopefully when she returns the skin to its normal position, all will be well.

What could go wrong, right?" I watched an animation of the entire procedure.

It should have made me feel more secure about everything. Instead I almost puked.

G.o.d, I hope she doesn't have a problem reattaching my skin. I almost went and read horror stories about rhinoplasty.

Decided that wasn't such a great idea, considering I am not going to change my mind. So I just swallowed megadoses of vitamins C and E, which should help the swelling and bruising. Asked (as opposed to Jenna's "borrowing" method) Mom for one of her Xanax so I could sleep last night.

No food or water after midnight. (No problem.) And here we are, pulling into a parking s.p.a.ce, headed toward a surgical suite and my skin-peeled-from-my-face adventure.

Am I nervous? Not at all! Just hope I don't actually haul off and vomit all over myself. That might turn the old doc off.

Okay, then. Here we go. How exciting!

Yeah, that's one way of putting it.

Through the big gla.s.s doors, into the elevator, and up six floors. My legs are a little shaky, but whether that's from nerves or lack of food, I can't say for sure.

I didn't eat anything at all yesterday.

It's getting easier. Practice makes perfect.

I Don't Have To Wait Long A nurse comes to get me, hands Mom some papers to sign. "See you on the other side." I follow the chubby nurse, wondering how a health-care professional could let herself go like that. Doesn't she know it's unhealthy to be overweight?

Oh well. She's nice enough. Put these on.

You can change in there. And you can leave your panties on, if it makes you more comfortable. Under a hospital gown, lacking anything that resembles a back? The panties will definitely remain on. Everything else comes off. The gown is actually designer, by hospital standards. Blue and pink swirls, instead of the usual white. The hairnet and booties are white, however. Nondesigner.

When I come out of the bathroom, Dr.

Kane is waiting. How are you feeling?

Do you have any questions for me?

When I say no, she points to a wheel- chair. Your chariot awaits. We'll take you down to the OR and introduce you to Cheryl, your anesthesiologist.

She'll give you a local at the IV site, so you shouldn't feel the needle, which can be a bit uncomfortable.

I expect an orderly to be my driver.

But Dr. Kane does the steering herself.

Here we are. Get in the chair and I'll be back when you're asleep. See you after.

No table for this operation. It's a state- of-the-art recliner. I climb up into it. Wait.

Unlike The Nurse The anesthesiologist is built like a praying mantis-tall, slender, and strong-armed.

h.e.l.lo, Kendra. I'm Cheryl. She comes over, shakes my hand. I want you to...

She looks at me. Looks at my chart.

I thought you'd be shorter. Weight, one hundred nine pounds. Says here you're five foot ten. That can't be right.

"That's right. I know, I've still got a few pounds to drop. But I'll get there."

Her eyes hold concern. Honey, you do not need to drop an ounce.

She rolls back the baggy sleeves, checks out my arms. Ditto the hem of the gown, running her fingers along my legs.

Then she studies the backs of my hands.

My wrists. The inside curves of my elbows.

She tsks. Hang tight. I'll be right back.

Sweat pops out on my forehead in hot little beads. I don't think I like the direction that just went. It's a long several minutes before Cheryl returns, towing Dr. Kane.

She stomps over to me. Would you please take a look at this? You have to have noticed! Cheryl pulls at the hospital gown.

You're a doctor, for Christ's sake.

Dr. Kane bristles. What are you talking a- But when she sees my shoulders, she gasps.

Suddenly, exposed, I'm freezing.

I start to s.h.i.+ver. My entire body shakes.

Get her a blanket, Cheryl. Kendra, are you eating at all? You are skin and bones.

Shame And Anger Collide inside me, roil together.

"Of course I eat. I need to be thin, though. Xavier says I'm almost there, too. The big contracts are coming."

Cheryl wraps a thermal blanket around my shoulders. Blessed warmth.

Whoever this Xavier fellow is, she says, you'd better quit listening to him.

Dr. Kane b.u.t.ts in. Kendra, I know you want to model. But what's going on here isn't about modeling. You are seriously emaciated. If you keep this up, you're at risk for anemia, arrhythmia, and osteopenia. And have you had a period lately? Unfortunately, we will have to postpone the rhinoplasty....

"No! Why? Look, I promise to eat, okay?" Why are they on me like this?

Honey, there's no way I will administer anesthesia to you, says Cheryl. You must be at a healthy weight or there could be serious consequences....

"Are you saying if some skinny person needed an operation to save his life you wouldn't administer anesthesia until he plumped up first? That's stupid."

She looks at me with gentle eyes.

A rhinoplasty isn't necessary to save your life. But maybe coming in for one today did. I hope so.

Save My Life?

What is she talking about? I'm fine.

Okay, maybe I haven't had a period in a few months. It did scare me for a while, right after Conner and I...

But the pregnancy tests were negative. And anyway, what's so bad about skipping a few monthly bloodlettings? "Look. I'm really okay."

Dr. Kane shakes her head. Get dressed.

Then we can discuss how to proceed.

Cheryl, when she's ready, please bring her back to my office. Kendra, can I get you something? Some cocoa, maybe? It might warm you up.

It's a test. "Sure. Hot chocolate would be great." Three hundred calories great.

Cheryl Escorts Me To Dr. Kane's office, where the good doctor is in deep conversation with Mom.

Wonderful. Come in for a nose job.

Walk out with a confirmed eating disorder.

Sit down, please. Dr. Kane hands me a steaming Styrofoam cup. Enjoy.

Chocolate. G.o.d. I haven't tasted it in months. One sip, I'm totally buzzed.

Mom keeps checking me out. Kendra, Dr. Kane is extremely worried about you.

She is recommending inpatient treatment.

I told her we can handle it at home. Am I right?

Good old Mom. "Of course. I tried to tell her I'm fine." To prove it, I take a long, loud slurp of cocoa. I hope it doesn't make me sick. "Can we go now?"

Sean

Sick To your stomach-gas churning in an empty well. That's how it feels with her gone. Sick in the head, much too much cerebral carnage. Brain cells shredded and nothing you can do to put them back together again. Nothing you can do to stop bleeding anger, and even if you could, you don't want to because anger feels better than the pain of losing someone.

Been Asking Around About Conner. Not sure why I feel the need to know, but seeing him at the movies made me wonder what the h.e.l.l is up with him.

He looked healthy enough, as fit as I've ever seen him, in fact. And considering he was always an ace running back, that's saying a lot.

n.o.body seems to know much for certain, but Bobby Duvall had an opinion.

I think he tried to off himself.