Author's Note: Thanks to my wonderful beta, NaijaChiqa. And to all of the reviewers, without you I wouldn't be inspired to write. And my other story will be updated Monday. Sorry for the wait.
Famous99- The reason I chose this disjointed way of storytelling is because I wanted to show 1. When and where and why the voice originated, and 2. I wanted to show parts of earlier in the year to show the difference between then and now. I dont know if that made sense. It just...seemed to be the right way to write this story.
December 1, 2001
"Marissa, wake up." Julie shook her daughter. "You've got a meeting with Dr. Munster in an hour."
Marissa opened her eyes and squinted as her mother drew open the curtains, allowing bright bursts of sunshine to pervade the room.
"But it's Saturday," she whined, burrowing under the covers. Julie took hold of the duvet and pulled it away from Marissa's body.
"Get up, now. Your father isn't going to pay this psychiatrist $300 an hour for you to curl up in your bed. I'll take you to L.A. tomorrow if you can be dressed and downstairs in half an hour."
As she left the room, Julie heard Marissa yawn and the sound of feet hitting the floor. A little bribery never hurt anyone, she thought.
Marissa opened her closet and pulled out pink terrycloth lounge pants and a black Juicy hoodie. She grabbed a black camisole and yanked it over her head. A pair of black Juicy flip flops with the words "Smells Like Couture…" printed on them completed the outfit. She ran a brush through her hair, which had just begun to creep past her shoulders.
Twenty-three minutes later, she walked down the stairs.
"Good. I've got time to make you a real breakfast. What do you want?" Julie checked her diamond and 18 karat yellow gold Baume et Mercier watch. She had decided that to get Marissa to eat, she might have to actually cook. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make, for her daughter's health, she supposed.
"I'm really not that hungry. It's so early, Mom."
Julie opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. She shook it vigorously and poured it into a glass. "Well, drink this. It will wake you up."
She slid the glass across the island counter and Marissa stopped it.
"Let me grab my purse then, and we can go." She sighed and left the kitchen. Marissa brought the glass of juice to the sink and poured it down the drain, and then put it back on the counter. A moment later her mother reappeared, tan Fendi bag in hand. "Found it." She eyed the glass, and noticed it was all but emptied. Traces of pulp clung to the sides and there was a just bit of juice in it. "Are you finished?"
Marissa placed her glass in the sink, not missing her mother's approving glance. She'd tricked her. She'd really fooled her mother! Usually Julie was a bit more interrogative, but today, she'd accepted what she saw for truth.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Marissa Cooper," the secretary called, "Dr. Munster will see you now." Marissa closed the magazine she'd been reading and stood up. She walked past the secretary's desk, the low oaken top showing the pale-skinned woman with fiery red hair and vibrant jade eyes.
She opened the door to Dr. Munster's private office. He looked up from a book on his desk.
"Hello, Marissa, I'm Dr. Munster."
"I know," Marissa muttered under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Have a seat, then. You can call me Jerry." He pointed to a black leather couch. Marissa stared at it. "Or, if you'd feel more comfortable, you can sit in a chair." Marissa walked over to the chair in front of his desk. With a perfect view of the clock, she'd be able to count down the seconds until she got out of this place.
"So, Marissa, Dr. Jones tells me that she's concerned about your weight."
Silence.
"She faxed me your records. It says here that you lost eight pounds since your last checkup, but you grew an inch. And then – two weeks after that, you dropped four more pounds."
Silence. Marissa bit the insides of her cheeks to refrain from speaking out. She had nothing to say to this shrink, he didn't need to know what she thought about everything. She knew, wasn't that enough? And besides, his questions were hardly worth wasting breath over.
"Well, Marissa. I'm going to tell you what. Dr. Jones believes that you have anorexia nervosa. Anorexia nervosa is a serious disease, and refusal to maintain a healthy body weigh is potentially life threatening."
"I know all of that," Marissa snapped.
Jerry leaned back in his chair. He'd gotten a rise out of her. That was a good sign, anything was better than nothing at all.
"Are you concerned with your weight, Marissa?"
She shrugged.
Jerry glanced at his watch. Twenty-six minutes had gone by and he was getting nowhere. Still, she wasn't the most challenging patient he'd dealt with and from his experience, resistance was key.
Marissa didn't utter a word for three minutes.
"Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?"
Marissa looked up at the clock on the wall; thirty-one minutes to go.
"Do you play any sports? Soccer? Tennis?"
She nodded. "Tennis, sometimes."
"And you're in the ninth grade?"
"Yeah. At Harbor."
"And how is it? Do you like it?"
She shrugged. "I guess it's alright."
"Just alright? Why? What do you like about Harbor, and what don't you like?"
She shrugged again. She was getting pretty annoyed with the persistent questions. Sure, her father paid loads of money for this session, but…anyone could see that it was just a waste. Why did she have to talk to this quack? It was obvious that she didn't even need to go to a psychiatrist, really.
"What about your friends? Do you have many friends?"
"I guess."
"Tell me about them."
"There's nothing to tell! I've got Summer and Holly mainly, and Luke." She glared angrily, annoyed that he was making her slip-up and speak. She was disappointed by the advantage she'd just given him.
"I see. Do you have any other friends?" Jerry looked down and scribbled on his pad in shorthand.
Marissa nodded, but kept her mouth clamped shut. She'd said too much already. If she wasn't careful, she knew she'd find herself saying something wrong.
"I know I've already told you, but Dr. Jones, and your parents, are worried about the weight you've lost." Jerry paused, unsuccessfully trying to catch Marissa's eye. "Do you think you've lost too much weight?"
Marissa shrugged. Nineteen minutes to go. And then, she wasn't ever coming back. Why did he insist on asking so many prying questions? And how was this supposed to help her?
It isn't. They should know that it's time to give up. But you won't give up on yourself, now, will you?
"Do you know what's going to happen if you continue to lose weight? You're going to be sent to the hospital, Marissa. I think it would save everyone a whole lot of trouble if you just stopped this nonsense. It seems to me that you're dieting to an extremity. You're perfectly thin and healthy right now. You could stand to gain a few pounds."
You're healthy. You don't really want to be his version of healthy, do you? Because it's not good enough. Don't listen to him.
Marissa crossed her slender legs and clasped her hands together – she had to be the epitome of grace and manners. It was just what her mother had always hoped for. Wasn't that good enough?
Jerry committed more notes to paper. Unresponsive, he wrote. Sullen. Watches clock intently. Seems on edge at all times.
"What are you writing?" Marissa asked. She wondered how he could write so much when he'd heard so little.
"I've been observing you, Marissa. And I need some notes for your record, for next time."
There won't be a next time, Marissa thought, but said, "Oh."
Jerry looked at his watch. "Well, our time is up for today, Marissa."
Quickly Marissa stood, her face brightening considerably.
"Thank you," she remembered to say, before hurrying out of the room.
Jerry sighed and buzzed his secretary. "Send Mrs. Cooper in."
"Yes, Jerry."
He had gotten practically nowhere with Marissa, but then again, he didn't usually treat anorectics. He was only seeing Marissa as a personal favor to Dr. Jones. But Jerry liked to see his patients improve. And from what he could see, Marissa needed his help – if she was willing to accept it.
The door opened and a beautiful, slender redheaded woman walked in. Her eyes were wide with worry and irritation.
"I'm Julie Cooper, Marissa's mother." She walked up to Jerry's desk and shook his hand. Then she sat down on the couch Marissa had refused to sit on.
"Jerry Munster."
"Well?" Julie asked almost immediately.
"Marissa was unresponsive and I couldn't get through to her. But this was only the first session. Although I haven't really dealt with anorexic patients before, I know one thing; patience is key. I'd like to schedule a meeting with you and your husband, Mrs. Cooper, to discuss Marissa, her habits, and the like."
"I'll have to speak with my husband to see when he's available," Julie said.
Jerry opened his date book. "I'll pencil you in for Tuesday at three-thirty."
"Afternoons aren't good for Jimmy. I'll have to find out exactly when, but evenings or lunch times are best."
"Three-thirty it is. Janice, she's my secretary, she'll give you a call the night before, just as a reminder. Good day, Mrs. Cooper." Jerry scribbled the appointment into his planner.
"Thank you, Dr. Munster." Julie sighed. This one was quite rude. But Dr. Jones had recommended him with the utmost praise and assurance, so she'd have to give him a try.
Once they were back in the car, Marissa declared, "I'm not going back there. You can't make me."
"Dr. Munster seemed perfectly nice," Julie fibbed. "What was wrong with him?"
"He was mean, Mom. And what a lack of respect. He kept asking me these inane questions that were totally irrelevant. And he practically put words in my mouth, Mom. He was horrible!"
"Oh, sweetheart." Julie reached for her hand and was pleasantly surprised that Marissa did not withdraw from her touch.
"And that's not all! He told me…he said I was a load of trouble for everyone. He did!" Marissa whimpered.
"Did he really?" Julie's anger was beginning to surface. How dare this complete stranger tell her daughter that she was troublesome! Sure, Marissa was worrying her, but she was not a load of trouble whatsoever.
"Daddy's wasting his money. Dr. Munster – sorry, Jerry – doesn't know a thing. I don't see how he's going to help me."
"We'll talk to your father tonight, okay sweetie? Don't get upset. Do you want to stop for a smoothie?"
Marissa looked disbelievingly at her mother. "No," she replied, crossing her arms.
Julie sighed. The peace and getting-along had been nice while it lasted. She stole a glance at Marissa and saw that the tiniest of tears had gathered at the corner of her left eye.
Don't cry.
I'm not, Marissa thought stubbornly. I'm strong.
Not really. But refusing food is your only strength. Don't show emotion – it reveals far too much.
I'll be indifferent from now on, she promised herself. I have to be.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Jimmy – you should've seen her earlier. She was practically in hysterics." Marissa stood in the hallway by the stairs, hidden from her parents' view in the living room by a potted palm.
"Dr. Jones recommended Munster. How bad could he be?"
"You know she's going to have a tantrum if we send her back."
"Well, let me tell you this, Julie. Marissa is going to see a psychiatrist, whether it's Dr. Munster or some other one. Call Dr. Jones and set up a meeting with an alternate doctor. And this time – we're meeting with the doctor beforehand. Somehow – I just don't trust Marissa's word entirely."
"Fine."
Marissa heard footsteps approaching and ran up the stairs and into her bedroom. She shut the door and flopped down on her bed. She picked up a book from her night table and flipped it open to a random page. Wiggling around on the bed as if to look settled, she'd barely begun to read a page when a knock came at her door.
"Marissa?"
"Come in, Mom."
She opened the door. "Oh – you're reading. I just need a minute."
Marissa sighed, rolling her eyes, as if Julie was taking up so much of her time, and put her book face down on the duvet.
"Your father and I have decided that you won't be seeing Dr. Munster anymore." Seeing the delighted look on Marissa's face, she continued, "Now that doesn't mean you're not going to see anyone, because you are. I'm calling Dr. Jones and she'll refer me to someone else."
Marissa pouted, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "But I'm fine, Mom. Really." She managed a big smile.
Julie smiled back, and said, quite sweetly, "No, you aren't. And that's not for us to decide, either way. Once a professional tells me that you're perfectly okay, then I can believe it."
She glanced at Marissa's arms under the black zip-up; they had become rather bony. She let her eyes roam to her lower body and noticed that her pants couldn't hide how thin her legs were.
Once she'd left, Marissa took off her pants and jacket. She pulled her camisole up so her stomach was exposed. Looking into the mirror, she reached for her hipbones and rubbed them three times. She cupped her rib cage in her hands and moved upwards, groaning at the point where her ribs disappeared beneath the flesh of her breasts.
Not good enough.
I know, though Marissa, I'm working on it.
You're not as determined as you should be.
Marissa put her pants back on, depressed by her slow progress. She unrolled her tank top and lay down on the floor, with feet lodged beneath her bed. Arms crossed on her chest, she pulled up to her knees with her abdominal muscles and back down again. Up, hold, down, repeat.
When she could feel the heat seeping out of her skin like steam through the cracks of an oven, she did ten more. A little exertion never hurt anyone, and besides, this was supposed to hurt. Marissa reasoned that without a little pain and suffering, she'd never be as beautiful as she wanted to be.
That's a start.
And a start it was. Animated by her inner praise, Marissa urged her body up for forty more sit-ups. And when she really could do no more for the moment, she sprawled out on her plush carpet, panting with happiness.
Downstairs, Julie Cooper had been on hold with Dr. Jones's office for ten minutes. Justine had promptly switched her over to the elevator music as soon as she'd stated her name.
The music shut off with a click! and Dr. Jones's voice filled Julie's ear. "Hello, Mrs. Cooper."
"Dr. Jones, finally. I've been waiting for twenty minutes. Jimmy and I have decided that Dr. Munster is not the right match for Marissa."
"I see." Just hours earlier Dr. Jones had received a call from him, thanking her for the opportunity to treat Marissa and excitedly outlining his plans for her treatment. However, it was all in the Coopers' hands. "Would you like another referral?"
"That would be perfect, Dr. Jones. Thank you so much." Julie patiently waited while Dr. Jones put her on hold.
"Mrs. Cooper, are you still there?"
"Yes," Julie replied. She grabbed a piece of paper and one of Kaitlyn's crayons that she found lying on the coffee table.
"His name is Gregory Shore." Dr. Jones gave her his number, "See how he works out. I just want you to know that if Marissa continues to lose weight she'll have to be hospitalized, just a warning."
"Thank you, Dr. Jones. I'll let you know how she's doing after we make an appointment, as soon as possible."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jimmy and Julie had been sitting in the waiting room since Marissa went to see him twenty minutes earlier.
"I still don't see why Greg had to meet with Marissa first." Julie sniffed. "I expressly said that I wanted for us to meet with him first."
"He's the psychiatrist, honey, not you," Jimmy soothed, "He's got his methods and we have to let him stick with them – otherwise he may not be successful in working with Marissa."
"I know, but still…" Julie took a magazine from the stack and opened to an article titled, "Is Your Child Getting the Proper Nutrition He or She Needs?" It was just her luck to be reading that article. Promptly she shut the magazine and reached for another one.
"Julie, this isn't your fault." Jimmy took the discarded magazine and set it on the empty chair next to him.
"I never said it was," she snapped. "Leave me alone – I'm reading."
Dr. Shore's office was in total silence. Marissa searched the wall for a clock but all s he could see was a variety of framed diplomas.
Dr. Shore, sitting in a stuffed black recliner, leaned forward and continued to watch her. He hadn't taken his eyes off of her since she'd sat down, refusing to speak.
The only words that had been spoken were 'hello', and when Marissa didn't reply, he knew he had to wait it out. From his experience, he knew that at some point – he didn't know when – she'd crack. And to be honest, Greg enjoyed making his resistant patients crack – that was when he normally achieved the most positive of results. He'd dealt with anorexia a few times, and knew that the girls – and one boy he'd treated – were first defensive, but almost always softened up.
Marissa stole a glance at Dr. Shore; she'd been told his name was Gregory. His keen chestnut brown eyes had been trained on her, only stopping to blink. And he hadn't spoken, other than a quick hello when she'd entered the office. So maybe this was better than rapid-fire questions a la Dr. Munster, but she was more than slightly surprised at the psychiatrist's quietness.
And what did it mean? Dr. Shore wasn't taking notes on her behavior, and the lack of "doctoring" made Marissa uncomfortable. She couldn't read his face, either.
Annoyed, she finally broke the silence.
"Are you going to just sit there?"
Greg studied her fair face dotted with subtle clusters of freckles before responding. Her mouth was twisted into an angry frown but her eyes were scared, uneasy.
"Are you?"
Marissa glared at Greg. Who did he think he was to ask her that. She wasn't the one getting paid to fix her problems…whatever they were.
Don't let them fool you. You don't have any problems.
"My parents are paying hundreds of dollars so you can fix me," she spat..
"Fix you?" Unnerved, Greg leaned forward in his chair, paper and pen cast to the cobalt blue carpeted floor.
"I mean – what's wrong with me…you're supposed to tell me and then help me."
"I don't know what's wrong with you, yet," Greg replied in all honesty.
Surprised by his answer, Marissa couldn't help but believe him. She didn't have to like Greg but seeing as she'd already gone through one psychiatrist, she was probably stuck with him. And in that case, she might as well find out what his intentions were. "Are you going to help me?"
She knew that she didn't have a problem, but as long as her parents and doctors were going to insist that she did, she might as well find out what this shrink planned to do.
Greg watched as her expression became less hostile, and knew that she had let her guard down, if only for the moment. "If I can, Marissa."
Another honest answer, in Marissa's opinion. "What do you mean, 'if you can'?"
Sighing, Greg bent forwards to readjust his tasseled loafer, which had begun to slip off. It was going to take a long time to get through to her. "I can't help you unless you're willing to let me."
Seeing the confused, slightly cross look on her face, Greg glanced at his watch and continued, "You know what? We're done for today. Thanks for coming by."
Why did he make it sound like she'd done him a favor by meeting with him? Maybe, Marissa reasoned, Greg Shore wasn't half bad.
Careful. Don't be blinded by false sincerity.
"Will you send your parents in? I'd like to have a word with them."
Marissa nodded and walked to the door. As she opened it, she heard herself say, "See you next week."