Disclaimer- I don't own Castle, Andrew Marlowe does. Please don't sue me for writing this story! Just having fun playing in the Castle Sandbox! Errors corrected! Thank you for your patience!
The inpatient program I enrolled in was more like a college campus than a hospital. The dorm building was relatively small and we were all expected to eat in the cafeteria. The whole facility was on lockdown because they had found a packet of laxatives during a room raid, according to my new roommate. Which meant that we had to ask the staff to unlock our bathroom doors before we got to use them and nobody got to leave the campus, or have phone or internet. That was humiliating. During the admission process, my things were promptly taken away from me and I was forced to watch as the staff picked apart my suitcases and bookbag. My iPad was quickly taken out of my backpack, along with my sugar-free candies I'd chew on between classes, my laptop, my books, a few of my Christmas presents, and my iPhone. I got angry about them taking away my iPhone, but they told me I'd get it back at designated times throughout the week to use it. They promised me that my new, leather-bound journal that Kate given me for Christmas would be put to good use here. It was like being imprisoned when they took me through a physical exam.
I was worried that I'd be bored out of my mind if I didn't at least have books to read. The staff promised me that I would have books- not fiction, but nutrition and psychology/self-help books if I needed to read, classes, group therapy, meal therapy, and individual therapy would fill up my day. Therapy, therapy, therapy. There was no time for me to do the reading I was supposed to be doing in the classes I would have been in. We were not allowed television or internet at all.
By the third day, I was going crazy. "How do I get out?" I whined to my individual counselor. "I hate it here."
"That's up to you, Alexis," she said.
That actually astounded me. Dad wasn't just going to stick me in here for a month and make me suffer for the rest of the semester? "But… why? Can't I just gain weight and leave?"
She shook her head. "You're the typical anorexic, I don't know if you know that," she told me. "You're smart, you're hard-working, and you're a perfectionist. You feel that a lot is expected of you and you hold yourself to high standards. That's what anorexia is. Anorexia is a long-term illness, it's a thought problem. Your eating and exercise habits and weight are only a symptom."
"I thought so."
"A lot of people do this," she said. "Anorexia is more of a negative perfection thought disease than just an eating problem."
"I'm a very happy person. I got into a great school, I made straight A's my first semester, and I'm going to run the New York City Marathon again in November."
"Those are things you've achieved. Were they things you wanted?"
"Of course I did! Doesn't everybody?"
Some of the girls were kind of fun, a lot more like me than I thought. I ended up hanging out on the smoke deck a lot, even though I didn't smoke. The girls on the smoke deck were the most fun to gossip with. We were prohibited from talking numbers; example, medical exam results, tests, weights, BMIs, calories, etc. But on the smoke deck, it all came out. From what the older girls told me, the ones in their mid-twenties, I was on the "starter" calorie plan. They were trying to get me comfortable with eating a thousand calories and not caring. Then, they'd increase it to twelve hundred and so on and so on until I was eating a regular diet. "Because they want you to be a stupid, fat, brainless cow," Jacinda from London informed me. I quickly earned the nick-name 'Red', one I had never had before.
"You know this place is a notorious re-feeding center," Carly from New Jersey said. "Don't worry, you'll be able to starve back down to your original weight when you get out, Red. Just be patient."
This was more like a rehab for famous and wealthy people's eating disordered daughters. We all had one roommate and a bathroom exclusive to our rooms. There was the best chef money could buy to make our meals and the most expensive therapist employed, and, honestly, I could tell there was rampant cheating on diets. Carly was right; this was a re-feeding center, nothing more. I could fake recovery here, nobody would know, then I could go back to losing the weight I gained here. Nobody ever got kicked out for breaking the rules, so girls broke them all the time. There were girls who didn't come to group and others who didn't go to meals if they didn't want to. I didn't have to go to meals, but in order to advance to where I could go visit my Dad or have people come visit me, I needed a higher level and meals participation helped. A lot of the girls were stupid Paris Hilton wannabes with little chihuahuas and hair extensions. I tended to avoid them.
I got letters from Tara occasionally, but that was about it. She wrote me that she'd come visit once I was allowed, but a few weeks after the third letter arrived, they stopped. My friends from high school couldn't care less that I was in rehab, they had moved on with their lives. My friends from college, I realized, weren't that close, and they didn't visit, either. I guess the sight of me was too depressing and out of sight, out of mind.
I was beginning to feel like I'd never get out when a care package arrived for me at the end of my first month. It was a rehab survival kit from my Grams, Dad, Kate, and the detectives in the bullpen. It included a few containers of EOS lip balm, my favorite shampoo and conditioner from Aveda, a few pairs of chunky wool socks, some lavender oil with a roller ball applicator, a set of white fairy lights, and a DVD. I couldn't play the DVD since I didn't have access to a player or computer. My therapist allowed me to watch it with her in her office.
It was a DVD of individual people telling jokes, singing songs (badly), and Ryan even did a magic trick with no camera cuts. A group of detectives lead by Esposito sang You Lost that Lovin' Feeling (very off-key and very badly) but it made me smile.
Jenny and Detective Ryan made a shot message for me from their kitchen, where Jenny was scraping cookies she had just made off the cookie sheet. "I was going to make these for you, they're like, my favorite cookie, Paula Dean's Lace Cookies. My mom used to make cookies for me when I was away at summer camp and college, and I always loved getting them. But then I realized that I can't send these to an eating disorder clinic, that's just sick," she said.
The camera turned around and I was looking up Ryan's nose. "Let me do my best Paula Dean impression. Come on, Jenny, ask the question!"
"No!" Jenny shouted in the background.
"Do it!"
"No way, it's really stupid."
"Come on, for Alexis!"
She sighed loudly. "Is butter a carb?" she asked in monotone.
"Butter is everything you ignorant bitch!" he cried in a southern accent. He laughed at himself, and I laughed, too. It was pretty bad. Jenny moaned in frustration, he had obviously done this impression too many times for her for it to be funny. He and my dad always cracked the worst jokes when they got together. He started eating one of the cookies on camera. "Hey, these are pretty good."
"I'll make them for her when she gets home," Jenny said.
"Okay, we're promising cookies. You have to get better so you can come home. We love you. Bye."
There was a box with instructions from Grams not to open until I watched the included DVD. At the end, there was Grams sitting in her living room with the rehab survival box.
"Hello, Alexis. I hope you're feeling better when you get this. I remembered this from when I was teaching acting classes, and I think it will cheer you up a bit, even though I modified it a bit for your situation. I'm making this box for you in hopes that you know that I love you and you'll come out of there better than you were before. Go ahead and open the box, now." I paused the DVD and opened the box. There were a lot of junky things in there. I turned the DVD back on and Grandma sprang back to life. "To start with, I'm including this, an Aspirin." She held up an aspirin that was obviously plastic. "When all else fails, take two and take a time out." I rolled the Aspirin between my fingers. That was actually really wise in this situation. "The next item on the list- oh damnit, what did I do with it- oh yes, this," she held up a band-aide. "A band-aid. For when things get a little tough, a band-aid so you can keep going and let it heal. And I'm including this, some crayons," she stuck a box of Crayolas in the box and I fished them out. "You make every day bright and colorful for me. And I love you for that. I hope you can make your days in Connecticut bright, too. And here," she put in a package of ear plugs. "For when life gets too noisy and you need a break. You can also use these if your roommate snores." I laughed aloud. "I had a hell of a time finding this," she held up a tiny lifesaver raft. I pulled it out and discovered it was a fridge magnet. "We all need a lifesaver sometimes. I found these, too." She held up a plastic baggie with a couple of marbles in it. "These are for when you feel like you're about to lose your marbles. Have these for a replacement." She dropped them into the box. "This one- these paper clips- are for when you need help holding it together. I'm always here if you need me. And this here," she held up a piece of a puzzle. "You are such a valuable part of my life. My life's not complete without you." I felt myself tearing up at that. She stretched out a rubber band before tossing it in. "This is the last thing I'm putting in here, to remind you to be flexible. Sometimes, when you feel like things aren't going your way, you need to let it go. A very wise man once said that life is what happens when things don't go according to plan. I know you're withdrawn from school right now, but it's not the end of the world. You can go back next fall. I know you will. And you're going to have a strong, healthy, beautiful body that can do so much. You're from the Rodgers stock, you're a Rodgers through-and-through. You've got my red hair, but don't tell your mother that," she winked at the camera with a smirk. It made me smile. "Rodgers women are tough, we can make things work even in the most difficult of situations. We can take a bad thing and turn it to our advantage. I love you, kid. You're part of me, the best part. And I know you can do this for yourself. Stay strong and don't ever quit. I'm looking forward to you coming home. I love you."
The camera went blank, and I realized I had tears running down my cheeks. Leave it to my grandma to make me cry.
The last people on the official video were my Dad and Kate, sitting on the couch in his living room.
"Hey, Alexis," he said. "We just wanted to let you know that we're planning our wedding and we just want you to know that it's not really complete without you. If you don't get out of rehab in time, we're postponing it."
"Yeah. I don't mind putting it off," Kate said.
"But, we wanted to tell you about some of our plans," he went on. "Kate's already planning some really cool and special things. You might want to see."
Kate picked up her iPad. "Okay, you turned me onto Pinterest and I'm basically using it to plan my wedding, like most women do." She poked around on it for a moment. "Okay, here's the bridesmaid dresses. I'm going to have you, Laney, and Jenny in these." She held up the iPad to show me the picture of the model in the dress. "I like you in this. I'm getting it in teal." Teal. I tried to avoid that color because it made me look like the Little Mermaid with my red hair. But, I'd wear it as a bridesmaid if I had to. "There's not going to be any shoes, because we're having it on the beach at your dad's Hampton's house. Laney and Jenny and your grandma and I just picked out my dress today. I'd show you what I've ordered, but I want Rick to be surprised." She laughed nervously. "I hope you'll be out by the time I get my last fitting done. But in the mean time, these are the centerpieces for the reception," she held up the iPad and showed me the elegant orchid and stargazer lilies with conch shells, tea lights, pearls, starfish, and sand dollars. "I hope you like them."
"I think we need sand with them, too," Dad said.
"No. No sand. I promise. And this," she said, flipping around her iPad screen. "Is the wedding invitation I wanted to send out," she held it up, and I could vaguely see the RSVP with a line for a request for a favorite song to play at the reception, "but I knew that if I did that, the guys in the precinct would find it hysterical to write down LMFAO or 2Live Crew or something."
Dad laughed. "I wanted I'm Sexy and I Know It to be our first dance song, but she didn't agree," he added.
She threw him a look, but then then smiled uncontrollably. "You're so funny, Castle. I thought about it, and said no. We're picking a good Ben Folds song, the Luckiest. You'll like it. The one he performed with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra live. We're going to have a nice, civilized choreographed ballroom dance to it."
"She's dragging me to ballroom dancing classes, too," he added.
"Yes, I am. I'm not going to look like a fool at my own wedding."
"Bridezilla."
She snorted. "Yeah. Sure. We're going to have a dance floor at the reception, too," she said. "And a DJ. We decided that an orchestra or band at a beach wedding wasn't a great idea. One of the beat cops at the precinct is a wedding DJ at his second job, too. He was DJ at Ryan and Jenny's wedding, and I really liked what he did. And here's the cake." She held up her iPad and I saw a four-tier cake that looked like it had a net thrown over it and had shells and starfish. "I think I'm taking this beach wedding theme too far."
"Yeah, probably. But it won't be complete without you," Dad said.
"Speaking of which, I thought for the father-daughter dance, we'd have it to Tiny Dancer. My dad loves that song, and it's a good one, and we thought we'd have you and your dad dance, too."
"That's sweet," I said aloud.
"Well, I guess that's it for now. We can't wait to see you when you get your first visit."
"Yeah. Take care," Dad said. "We love you."
"Yeah, we love you," Kate repeated.
The camera faded out. "'Bye!" they both shouted.
The next thing on the DVD was the white letters "OUTTAKE (I couldn't help myself) Laney's words of wisdom" The camera faded in on Dr. Parish, who was in the morgue. She looked annoyed and was taking notes. "Hey, Laney, I'm making a DVD for Alexis," my dad said from the background. The camera was shaking, he was obviously following her around the lab. "You got any jokes, any words of wisdom, any songs you want to sing?"
"Hell no. I'm not saying a thing. I could kick her ass. No wait," she turned to the camera. "Girl, you better eat something. Ain't nobody like a girl without curves."
Dad burst out laughing, although Dr. Parish's face was dead serious. I laughed, too.
"Don't you laugh at me! And get that thing out of my face!"
The screen faded out with my father laughing.
"I'm serious!" Dr. Parish shouted. "I will put you in a world of hurt if you don't start eating!… Oh lord, child."
It was funny, I had to admit it. Dad got it out of his system and snuck it on to the DVD. I'm sure Dr. Parish wouldn't find it that funny, but honestly, it was. The DVD screen went back to saying Samsung. My therapist ejected it from the DVD player.
"How does this make you feel?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Happy?"
"Because these people all love you and want you to get better?"
I nodded.
"I can tell your father loves you very much. And his friends do, too."
"Why aren't my friends writing me anymore? Sending me stuff like this?"
"Don't take it personally. They're busy with their own lives. They moved out of state, went to different schools from you. Sometimes, it's natural to make friends because you're in an environment with them that you have to see them everyday. When you split up to go to college, it's not to bad thing. You were forced to go to high school because of the law, and you had to make friends to navigate your way. You're still growing up. College is part of branching out and growing up. You'll probably see your high school friends later in life, have a good reunion with them, and promise to keep in better touch. But, you're still growing up. There's nothing wrong with changing the groups of friends that you have."
"I don't like that word," I said.
"What word?"
"Change. I was so secure in high school. It was Dad and me, and my grandma, then my friends, and his friends. That's all changed."
"How did it change?" she asked.
"Kate moved in, for one. I thought I was going to move out and become my own person in college, but…"
"But what?"
"So much of who I am is related to my father. Everyone knows me for my dad."
"Our parents are usually a big part of who we believe we are for a very, very long time. He's part of your identity?"
I nodded.
"You've got a lot to live up to. A famous, talented father, a broadway actress for a grandmother, and your mother is an actress, yes?"
I nodded. "She's never around. I think the last time I saw her was at my high school graduation."
"When was the last time she called?"
"Christmas Day."
"Are you happy with your relationship with her?"
I thought about it. "No, not really. I wish she loved me enough that I was on her mind so often that she'd call me more."
"It's hard when a parent rejects you, isn't it?"
I nodded. "I never thought about it that way. I know she loves me, but I'm not the first thing on her mind. I keep on thinking that my dad is starting to feel that way because now, there's Kate in his life. He's going to marry her. He didn't even ask me if I'd be okay with it. He didn't even tell me until fall break, but he saved it for an announcement with all his friends at a party. I should have been happy, but I wasn't. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's wrong to not be happy for them."
"What you feel is what you feel. That doesn't make it wrong."
"How can it not be wrong?" I asked. "Normal kids are happy for their parents when they give them the news that they're going to remarry. Especially when it's someone they like."
"But he waited to tell you. He put you in the same group as his friends. Did you not like that?"
I tugged my hoodie tighter around me. "I didn't like it at all," I admitted, feeling uneasy.
"But you didn't tell either of them that?"
I shook my head. "No. It would be really selfish of me."
"It's not selfish when it really bothers you."
"I wish I didn't feel like this."
"I know you don't," she said. She checked her clock. "I tell you what, since our session's about to end, why don't you write a letter to your father about how much that event really hurt you? And how you wish it were different?"
"I'm not a writer. That's my dad."
"Nobody's going to see it. You don't have to send it to him. I suggest you really journal during your time here. Writing your thoughts down will help you when you re-read them and analyze them. You might even see connections. Why don't you take some time for that today?"
I nodded. I had a perfect journal waiting in my room. "Okay. I'll give it a try."
I sat down at my desk, deciding I'd write the most hateful, accusatory thing I could to my dad over the way he announced his engagement to Kate. I sat down and dutifully wrote the journal entry like I would a formal letter, addressing it to Richard Castle at the top of the page and putting the date on it.
Dear Dad,
I'm writing this letter to you because I'm seriously pissed off at you for being an asshole and not telling me about your engagement to Kate before the party where you announced it to all your friends. I'm your daughter. It's not okay to surprise me with news that my whole family infrastructure is going to change just like that. I thought your relationship with Kate was going to come and go once you got bored of her, like all your other girlfriends over the years, especially like Gina Cowell. You really did Gina wrong. You owed it to me to tell me first before all of them. I should have been the first to know, before all your friends from the precinct, the Medical Examiner's office, or the writers you play poker with. I'm your daughter. You changed my whole home life when you brought Kate in to live at our house, and you've changed it dramatically by asking her to marry you. I didn't say anything to you because I didn't want to appear ungrateful or rude, but this is how I feel. And a part of me is really mad at you for it. I can't wait to see you fuck up this relationship with Kate like you always do.
Grow up.
Alexis
Short and to the point. I was so angry writing it, my pen tore through the paper a few times, especially while underlining, I was pressing so hard. I was crying and breathing hard from the rage coursing through my system. I stopped to breath, and re-read what I wrote. Yeah, this was how I felt. I felt the tension in my shoulders and back start to ease out. My heartrate began to slow, and I realized this had been a good thing to do to let Dad know how angry he made me. The knowledge that nobody else but me would ever see this was comforting. I had it on paper now. I felt like part of me could let it go, now.
I washed my face in the sink and brushed my teeth. I felt so much better, like I had taken control back.
Maybe I had a love for writing I had never allowed myself because I thought it was my father's thing, not mine. Maybe there was an artistic, creative side to me after all. Maybe I could handle things by writing about them. Yeah. I think I would be okay.