November, 1986

Lindsay looked in the bathroom mirror as she dabbed makeup remover onto the black circles of mascara under her red puffy eyes. Not an attractive look.

Well, it looks like we've got the old Lindsay back. She clenched her teeth at the memory. What did she have to do to make her stop?! She'd thought it was over, her mother hadn't said anything like that since the hospital visit in August, but now that she was gaining back the weight it was going to start all over again. Her eyes filled with tears of anger and self-pity and shame, because she couldn't help it, she was embarrassed that she'd taken such a big slice of pie, and how pathetic was that? She swallowed and wiped her eyes. She didn't want to cry anymore, she'd spent the last half hour doing that. She just wanted to sleep.

She pulled a hand towel from the rack, ran water over it, and pressed it to her face. As she spread her Sea Breeze lotion around her face she thought about how she'd felt at dinner earlier. It was stressful eating with the whole family, knowing they'd all be watching to see how much she ate, but she'd tried not to think about it and got a little of everything. It was just one meal, it wasn't going to make her gain weight, and she wasn't supposed to worry about that anyway. She'd even felt a little proud of herself.

Well, it looks like we've got the old Lindsay back. She'd just frozen, trying to come up with something say with everyone watching her, all while trying to wrestle with the shock that her mother would still say something like that after everything that had happened. It was ridiculous, she thought as she undressed, that she could still feel surprised after her mother had proven time and time again that she didn't give a shit about her daughter. Why did she keep expecting anything else?

She looked at her body in the mirror and suddenly she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She pulled on her nightgown and sat on the floor and cried. It was so different from how it had been three months ago. Even then she hadn't been completely happy, but it was better than this. She thought about her stomach, bloated from all the food she'd eaten. What had she been thinking? She felt so sick, she just wanted it out of her, to undo all of it. Before she could change her mind she crawled over to the toilet and shoved her finger into her throat.

She looked at the vomit swirling around in the toilet, her body shaking. She quickly flushed it and leaned back against the wall, disgusted with herself but so wonderfully empty at the same time.

She froze as she heard footsteps outside the door. Had someone heard? She stood up and frantically brushed her teeth. She looked in the mirror. She'd washed off all the makeup but it was still obvious that she'd been crying, her eyes were all red. But it was dark in the hallway, if anyone was out there they wouldn't be able to see. She took a deep breath and opened the door, praying that no one would be there.

Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw Michael. No, no, not him.

"Lindsay," he said, and she knew that he'd heard.

"Hey," she said, trying to keep her voice casual. She walked quickly to her room, looking away so he wouldn't see her eyes. He followed her into her room.

"I heard that," he said.

"Heard what?"

"I heard you throwing up in there."

"Oh yeah, I guess I just got sick or something," she said, sitting on her bed.

"Come on, I know what happened."

"I was just sick, I told you."

"We need to talk about this! If you're relapsing—"

"I'm not relapsing," she interrupted.

"Then what was that?"

She cast around desperately for something to say, but she knew it was no use, there was nothing she could say that would make him believe her. She closed her eyes.

"Please don't tell anyone," she said quietly.

"Of course I won't," he said, sitting next to her on the bed.

"I mean it," she said. "Not Mom, or Dad, or Carolyn…"

Michael hesitated. "Carolyn should probably know about this."

"Don't!" she said frantically.

"I won't tell her, I just think you probably should," he said quickly. "She'll understand, it's her job."

"No," she said firmly. "There's no need to, it won't happen again."

He hesitated. "Alright," he said uncertainly. They sat in silence for a moment.

"I've never done that before," she said.

"Okay."

"Do you believe me?"

"Yeah, I believe you."

"Okay."

Without warning a lump rose in her throat and her eyes burned and then she couldn't keep from crying anymore. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking.

"It's okay, you don't need to apologize," he said, but that just made her cry more. He hesitated, then hugged her. She hugged him back and sobbed, her whole body shaking. She didn't care anymore, it felt so good to cry in front of him and to feel his arms around her and his hand in her hair.

"Don't worry, relapse is really common, it doesn't matter," he said.

"This wasn't a relapse, I've never done that. It's worse than before."

"No, it's not, look at all the progress you've made."

She laughed bitterly through her tears. "What progress?" she said, pulling away from him. "I feel worse than I ever have, it's never been so bad." She didn't know if that was true, but she wanted to say it. "I just feel so miserable all the time, it just doesn't go away."

"It will, you'll get better."

"I don't think I will," she choked. She'd been thinking it for months, that she would never get out of this nightmare, but it was so much more terrifying when she said it aloud.

"You will, don't worry."

"How do you know?" she shot back. She wanted to punch him, he looked so sure of himself.

"I've read all these stories about people who thought they wouldn't get better and they did," he said desperately.

"Well, that's just great," she said sarcastically.

"You seem better than you were two months ago, you seem happier," he said desperately. She gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, not right now, but you have been, you've seemed much better lately. Look, this was just a one-time thing, it doesn't matter. It was just because Mom said that. I'll talk to her and I'll tell Carolyn about it and she'll talk to her, too. Not about this, I'll just tell her what she said," he said quickly when her eyes widened. "Only if you want to me to, though."

She hesitated. "No, I'd rather you didn't," she said.

"Okay, that's fine," he said. "Just, if there's anything I can do, just tell me."

She nodded. She knew he would do anything she asked, but it was hard to feel grateful when he was so infuriatingly certain that he could fix everything.

"Do you want me to go?" he said uncertainly.

She opened her mouth to say yes, but then closed it. Being alone would be even worse.

"No, you can stay," she said. They sat in silence for a moment. She hesitated, then leaned against him. She was glad he didn't seem surprised or embarrassed as he wrapped his arm around her. She was so tired of that. Everyone else was asleep now and the only noise was the sound of the ocean coming in through the open window.

"I thought I was getting better," she said, her voice hollow.

"You are," he said. "Relapse is a part of recovery.

She laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. "You sound like a brochure," she said. "Where'd you get that?"

He laughed. "It was in that book the doctor gave Mom and Dad."

Lindsay smiled to herself. "I bet you read that whole book cover to cover." He didn't respond. She looked up and saw that he was trying not to laugh. "Oh my god, you actually did."

"I also highlighted it."

"No, you didn't."

"Yeah, I actually did," he laughed.

"Oh my god," she groaned, putting her head back on his chest. "That is just…that is such a Michael thing to do."

He laughed. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know, it just seems like something you would do. It's a good thing."

They sat in silence for a moment. She could feel his heart beating under her cheek.

"Thank you," she said. "For everything you've been doing. It's, um, it's really nice to know that someone cares about me."

"We all care about you," he said. She laughed humorlessly. "Really," he insisted. "They're just not very good at showing it."

"Oh, I think Mom's done a pretty good job at showing how she feels about me."

"Yeah, well, Mom's insane. You know that."

She laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"She still loves you though, of course she does."

"Yeah," she said, though she wasn't sure she believed him. Her eyes filled with tears again as the full force of how much she needed him crashed over her.

"I love you," she said. She didn't look up at him, feeling a little embarrassed, but she was glad she'd said it.

"I love you, too," he laughed, sounding a little surprised, but she knew that he meant it. Not just because she was his sister and he felt like he should, he really loved her. She was shallow and lazy and selfish but for some reason he loved her anyway.

She wondered vaguely what time it was. He would probably leave soon, they couldn't just sit here all night. The realization filled her with a cold dread. She couldn't bear the thought of being alone again. She looked up at him.

"Michael?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Can you sleep here tonight?"

As soon as she'd said it she wished she hadn't. His eyes widened.

"I mean, you don't have to, if you don't want to," she said quickly, sitting up.

"Uh, no, it's fine."

"I just don't want to be alone, I guess, that's all," she stammered, her face turning red.

"Yeah, of course," he said. He smiled reassuringly.

"Okay," she said, still regretting asking him, but what could she do now? "Um, do you want to go to sleep now?" she said awkwardly.

"Uh, sure."

"Okay." She paused, not sure how to do this without looking like an idiot. She swung her legs onto the bed, climbed under the blankets and lay down. He hesitated, looking extremely embarrassed, then climbed under the blankets and lay down next to her. She scooted as close to the edge of the twin bed as she could, but their arms were still touching. "Sorry, there isn't much room," she muttered.

"It's fine," he laughed embarrassedly. She smiled weakly and propped herself up on her elbow and turned off the lamp. She lay back down next to him, extremely aware of the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra under her white cotton nightgown. She turned her head and looked at him on the pillow next to her. She could vaguely make out his familiar face in the light that came in from the streetlights outside her window.

"Good night," she said quietly. He smiled.

"Good night," he whispered.

She shivered and smiled shyly back at him. They stared at each other for a moment in the darkness, faces inches apart, neither of them daring to breathe. She knew he felt it, too, the connection running between them.

She turned away and looked up at the ceiling, her heart beating fast. This was a bad idea, this was definitely crossing a line. She rolled onto her side so that her back was to him and closed her eyes. She realized her body was tensed and slowly let herself relax. It was okay, they were only sleeping, there wasn't anything weird about it.

She listened to the sound of him breathing beside her. As awkward as it was, she was glad he was there. It was nice, to feel the warmth of his body next to hers, to know that he would still be there when she woke up in the morning, to know that she wasn't alone, that she was loved and needed and wanted. It felt like she was falling.

She opened her eyes. Don't, she told herself. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes again, though she doubted she would be able to fall asleep anytime soon, not with her heart pounding like this and the thoughts that were spinning through her head.