Detox Mansion ch. 5

Lita had been spending so many days with Winston that he was creeping into their dreams. They were typical, at first. Winston coming over for family dinner, or going to a new part of the city together to explore. But Lita woke up at the start of a new week of therapy from a heartwrenchngly romantic dream.

It was fading from them now as they got ready for the day, but a few images lingered, resistant to leave. On one of their night rides home Lita collapsed into Winston’s arms, not wanting to leave. They collapsed into each other, kissing frantically with pent-up desire. It was, Lita thought while grimacing in the mirror, an incredibly cheesy and embarrasing dream and they’d do best to forget it.

Today all three generations of Zamora went to the mall, to a store that sold practical, inexpensive basics made in Japan. The mothers wanted Lita to get new clothing for college or, failing that, a “real” job. Clothes shopping was a trigger for Lita, and they desperately wished that Winston could be there, cracking jokes in his dry humor or even just standing by Lita’s side, a solid and affirming presence. Lita’s mother and grandmother didn’t understand the pain of clothes shopping. There was the matter of size; if something was too small Lita would feel horrible and then Lita would have to size up but how did it compare to past clothing? That is, if Lita could even find anything they liked.

Lita’s grandmother was especially pushy, insisting that Lita try on a number of overly feminine blouses and pencil skirts. They reached a compromise with a simple, grey drawstring skirt made out of a soft, sweatshirt-like material that complimented Lita’s figure, and a pair of button-down shirts from the mens’ section covered in bright designs. It was an outfit that Lita felt good in, cobining elements of masculine and feminine in a way that worked with Lita’s identity. The mirrors in the dressing room showed Lita from every angle and the lighting was harsh. Lita tried not to look while they changed. They knew this dressing room had a tendency to bring every ripple of celulite, every stretch mark and every scar into sharp detail. There had been a time in the past when Lita spent an eternity at these dressing rooms, mentally flogging themself with self-hate.

The lessons from therapy focused on getting through moments, focusing on discarding behaviors that no longer would serve Lita in their recovery. CBT challenged ingrained thoughts, DBT worked to create new habits of mental health. So Lita gritted their teeth, squeezed their eyes shut, and slipped back into their jean shorts and tee shirt.

Once Lita was in the clear, holding a brown paper bag with their new clothes, another trigger was fast approaching. It was Paige, Lita’s estranged friend from high school.

Alone, Lita could easily avoid Paige, but with her mom and grandmother, they waved Paige and her mom down.

“Oh…hi Lita.” Paige said distantly. She was tanned and wearing an oversized maroon Boston College sweatshirt over white shorts. While the mothers chatted, the teens eyed each other at a careful distance.

“When do you leave for college?” Lita asked.

“I move into my dorm on the last week of August but it’s not that far. It’s just Newton.” Paige shrugged.

Lita brightened. “Maybe we could hang out soon?”

Paige eyed Lita with caution. “I’ll have to check my schedule. Once August starts, I’ll be super busy with cross country practice.”

Lita was crestfallen. They wanted so, so badly to be in a cross country team again. And they’d barely run all summer, preferring to go on walks, which according to Ed, didn’t count as “exercise enough”.

“What about you?” Paige asked. “What have YOU done all summer?” The question was well-intentioned but felt like a police interrogation.

“I—I’m in re-rehab.” Lita stammered. Might as well be honest with their former best friend.

Paige and her mother gasped simultaneously.

“No, no, Lita it’s not rehab.” Lita’s mother chided. “She’s in a program for young women with eating disorders.” Paige’s mother nodded, giving Lita a once-over.

“I would have never guessed.” She added without a trace of emotion. They parted ways.

Lita figured that was the typical response; “would have never guessed.” Lita’s disorder couldn’t neatly fit into the anorexic box or the bulimic box. It wasn’t option A or B. It was complicated, messy, and confounding to people who didn’t understand. And the most dangerous part was that because diet culture was so normal and Lita wasn’t literally starving, the disorder could blend seamlessly into the background.

For therapy, Lita wore their new outfit and received lots of compliments. Lita was looking forward to seeing Winston, but the excitement was dulled by the embarrasing dream. They had previously discussed arriving in Conford early so that they could walk around the town before therapy. Lita was tongue-tied and clammy, walking with Winston in the late July sun. They stopped at a cafe and a used bookstore, then went further out to a trail filled with landmarks of American colonial history.

“You’ve been quiet.” Winston noticed.

“I’ve been lost in thought.” Lita admitted. “I faced some triggers today, though, ran into an ex-friend AND went clothes shopping.”

Winston complimented their outfit and strength at surviving the ordeals.

“I’m worried about when this will all end.” Lita continued. “Because it’s going to eventually. Next week is my last week in the program then I’m down to once-a-week group check ins and seeing a private nutritionist.”

Winston no longer kept cigarettes on him, but instinctively reached for his pants pocket, and flinched.

“I’m stuck.” he admitted. “It’s been two years and I still haven’t moved on from the program. My entire life has been on pause and thinking about going back to it terrifies me.”

“It’s like,” Lita held up their hands making a cradle motion to illustrate a point, “in Group we’re in this safe little cocoon of therapy language and support but eventually we have to face the Real World which is full of triggers and potential relapses.”

“You have to chase after your dream.” Winston smiled at Lita, but with sad eyes. “When you finish the program, apply for school and move out to L.A.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” Lita said with a quavering voice. “I don’t think I’d ever be good enough.”

The forested trail gave way to a wide open field with waist-high, golden grass. It was breathtaking.

“What if you just went for like a week, to scope it out? And if you hate it there, you don’t have to go.” Winston suggested.

Gears were turning in Lita’s mind.

“Let’s go to L.A. together.” Lita turned to face Winston.

Winston gave out a startled, “huh?” but ended up agreeing with Lita. They would have Winston come over to dinner to get to know him better.

“I’ve been telling my mom and grandma about you all this time.” Lita explained, as they returned to the car. “They basically think you’re my guardian angel, or a saint.”

Winston threw his head back and groaned, but returned to smiling.

On the last day of IOP, Lita was placed with a nutritionist for further care, and was assured that they could come to weekly alumni group therapy meetings for as long as they needed to. There was also a ritual; a small glass pebble was passed around the tables and each member imbued it with a hope for Lita or a compliment.

“I hope you love L.A.!”

“I wish all the best for you in college or whatever you end up doing.”

“I always liked seeing you draw and write so much during Group, I’m sure you’re a talented storyteller.”

Lita held these words and the green glass pebble close to their heart.

On their way out of the reception hall, they passed by a basket filled with cheap silicone bracelets, the kind companies bought massive amounts on to promote these businesses. These bracelets, however, had the words stamped “I love my body”. Lita took two. Because even if there were days where it was hard for Lita to believe the statement, it was there so plainly on the bracelet that Lita could internalize the thought and make it real.