This wasn’t the first time.
Misty stepped aside to let us into the room, then shut the door behind us with a quiet click. Jenny and I eased Eden down into a sitting position on her tiny twin bed. The minute we moved out from under her arms, though, she flopped back onto the baby-blue comforter with a drunken giggle.
“On your side,” Jenny said, using both hands to roll Eden.
“I’m not gonna puke,” Eden said.
“We’ll see about that.”
Misty picked up an empty wastebasket and put it next to Eden’s bed. It felt like I was watching a routine. Something practiced and choreographed.
“Lee,” Jenny said, “where are you sleeping?”
“Oh. I have a sleeping bag.”
“Do you need a pillow?” Misty asked.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
By the time we got my sleeping bag unrolled, Eden had passed out. Misty excused herself to take a shower, leaving me and Jenny to take off Eden’s shoes and glasses.
“So … how long has this been going on?” I asked.
Jenny sighed and ran a hand through her hot-pink hair. “A while? I didn’t think much about it at first. She’s a freshman. She’s on her own for the first time, and I don’t know. Freshmen party. Except … she doesn’t really party. She just drinks. Too much.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
“I’ve tried. So has Misty. But neither of us really knows what to say. I mean, we can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through. And every time we bring it up or tell her she should see a counselor, she just shuts down. Says she’s got too much to do. And it’s not like it’s affecting her grades or anything. She’s doing fine in class. She gives these presentations every other week. Everyone else thinks she’s doing great. But then every weekend it’s …this.” She gestured to Eden’s unconscious form on the bed. “I was hoping maybe when you were here she’d try to keep it together, but clearly I was wrong.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be unloading this on you.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “I’m glad I know.”
“Misty thinks we should tell her parents, but I’m scared she’d hate me if I did. She works so hard to make her family proud.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m scared for her, Lee. I’m graduating and Misty is transferring to be closer to home. What if something happens to her? I keep having this recurring nightmare that she calls me and asks me to come help her, but I’m already back home in California and I can’t get to her. I just … I don’t know what to do.”
I couldn’t give her an answer. I’d had no idea things were this bad with Eden. Jenny was right. From the outside, she seemed fine. Great, even. The model of what a survivor could and should be. Ashley and I had talked a dozen times about how proud we were of her. How far she’d come since high school, where hardly anyone had even heard the sound of her voice. Between the activism and her webcomic, I’d assumed that moment by the lake three years ago was far behind her.
But maybe she was still screaming. Just in a different way.
“I should go,” Jenny said. “I’ve got a test on Monday, which means I’m going to have to spend the weekend studying. If she wakes up, will you make sure she drinks some water?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Thank you.” Jenny leaned down and kissed Eden’s forehead before turning to leave the room.
I sat on my sleeping bag and pulled out my cell phone. I had a text from Ashley, instructing me to tell Eden hello for her and asking how my visit had been so far. I hadn’t spoken to her since reading her essay, and I’d let her last few texts go unanswered. I wasn’t angry with her. Not exactly. She hadn’t meant to lie. As far as she knew, she’d told the truth about Sarah and the necklace. But I still wasn’t sure how to talk to her about that.
How do you tell someone that something they were so sure of, something that was profound and meaningful to them, wasn’t real?
I wasn’t ready to tell her, but I also knew that if I kept ignoring her texts, she’d get worried. So I typed back a quick reply. Eden says hi back. I didn’t answer her question about how the visit had been so far. I didn’t want to lie, but the truth couldn’t have been conveyed in a text message.
I’d just hit “send” when Eden sat up, turned, and began vomiting into the wastebasket next to her bed. Selfishly I was relieved that we’d rolled out my sleeping bag closer to Misty’s bed, out of range of the splash zone. I dropped my phone and jumped up, walking over to Eden and pulling her hair back while her body expelled as much vodka from her system as it could.
A few minutes later, she finished and wiped her hand across her mouth. Slowly she lay back down on the bed. I went to the minifridge in the corner and found an unopened bottle of water. After unscrewing the cap, I handed it to her. She tried to sip without sitting up but sloshed a bit of water onto her face and shirt, though she didn’t seem bothered.
“Where’s Jenny?” she asked in a croaky voice as she handed the bottle back to me.
“She just left.”
“Is she mad at me?”
