Heavy: A Contemporary Romance (23 page)

“You are, Ruby
. He’s a good person and has had a tough life and it’s not his fault he made the mistake of… befriending… me. In a couple of hours, I’m making a video that I’m going to put on the Internet. In it, I’m going to talk about my disorder and the steps I took to rectify the situation. I would love some help in the drafting of my statement. I don’t want it to turn out to be a hate piece against my parents, or to come off sounding like a spoiled little rich girl who had a rough childhood. It’s a disease directly related to self-esteem and self-worth, and can affect anyone regardless of their social standing in life.”

“
Handled correctly, you could have the clip up on the ABAS website today, Cali. In fact, depending on how this is accepted and if it’s done right, you’d be the perfect face for the Society. Think of how much support could be garnered with California Huntington attached in such a personal way. My daughter suffered from anorexia. She passed away from it when she was nineteen, three years ago.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Ruby
. I understand now why Bernie suggested I contact you.”

“I
t’s making a lot of sense to me, too. This will only work if you maintain a clean image. Saying you’re a bulimic then seeing you crawling drunk out a club at four in the morning with Lake Rivers is not going to keep a positive slant on things.”

“Those days are behind me, Ruby
. I have more people in my life now who have high expectations of me and I can’t let them down.”

“You’re talking about this tattoo artist you’re involved with?”

“Him, his son, and his father. They welcomed me into their family and were the exact support group I needed. I’m severing all ties for now so I can get out ahead of this thing. If I can’t stop the media from hounding them, I need to at least put a positive spin on it.”

“Don’t worry, Cali, I’m exact
ly the right person who can help you with all this.”

Two hours later, via Skye and email exchanges, Ruby and I had drafted a copy of the statement I was going to record over at Harry’s
. The way the woman had talked about all the positive work my coming forward could do with regard to girls out there suffering from the same disorder, it seemed like I finally had the purpose I’d been searching for.

For the first time since saying goodbye to Thatch, I felt hope
.

Thatch

“You want cheese on your Turkey burger?” I asked Thaddeus as he
watched me from his seat at the kitchen table.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded
. “Daddy, can I ask you something?”

Okay, here it comes.

“Yes, little man, ask away.”

“
Why do you pretend not to like Cali?”

Okay, I thought he was going to ask if she was coming back…
not that.

“Why do you think that, Thad?”

I placed his plate of food in front of him and sat down next to him at the table.

“Sometimes you act angry around her and then sometimes you…”
He paused here and looked at me thoughtfully, as if choosing his next words carefully.

“Sometimes I what, Thaddeus?”
I asked as I cut his burger in half for him.

“Sometimes you go and look at her picture for a long time,” he answered softly, like he was preparing for me to get angry with him.

“You’ve seen the painting in my studio?”

Thaddeus nodded as he took a big bite of his turkey burger.

“Has Pop-Pop seen the painting, too?”

He nodded again, ketchup and melted cheese squirting down the front of his T-shirt.

“Looks like we need to get you a bib, Thad,” my father said as he entered the room. I wondered how much of the conversation he’d heard.

Thaddeus giggled
. “I don’t need a bib, Pop-Pop.” He picked his paper napkin off the table and stuck it to his chest, using the ketchup as an adhesive.

My dad rolled his eyes at him before he turned to me
. “Just so you know, she’s seen the painting, too.”

I guess that
answered the question of how much he heard before entering the kitchen.

“
I need you to go watch this,” he added, holding out his cell phone that was cued to a video on YouTube. “I’ll make sure Thad eats.”

“What’s on the video, Pop
s? Not more scenes of me leaving the gym I hope.”

“Will you just go into the living room and watch it, son?”
He almost pushed me from the room.

I thought I’d seen just about everything they put out there today about California and me
. Other than Shady Steve, who had been fired from the gym this afternoon, no one had come forward to confirm Cali had been helping us out as a receptionist. The tattoo community is pretty tight-knit, but I wasn’t so naïve as to think that would last forever.

Earlier today
, Lake had shown up outside Reston’s claiming she was looking for her sister. She stayed and chatted with reporters for at least an hour after that. She knew beforehand Cali wasn’t going to be there and the tabloid reporters lapped up all the crap she spoon-fed them. Crap about California’s drug and alcohol addiction, how she was concerned her sister had gone on a bender so soon after rehab – and the list went on and on.

I went into the living room, got comfortable on the couch
, and pushed play on my dad’s phone, fully expecting to see more of Lake’s interview from earlier today.

My breath caught in my throat when
, instead of Lake, California’s face was the first thing that came up once the video started playing.

Hello, I’m California Huntington, and most of you will know me as the miscreant daugh
ter of Brock Huntington. You’ll have read tabloid reports of my drug and alcohol addiction and about the fact that I recently completed a three-month stay at the Blaire Institute and Recovery Center. You’ll have seen clips on
TMZ
and other gossip websites of me stumbling out of clubs and late-night parties, not to mention all the scandals surrounding me in the last year or so.

I’m not going to deny I have abused drugs and alcohol in the past
. This last year has been rough and very out-of-character for me, but none of you will know this, as none of you really know me. Your perception of me is what is portrayed in the media, and the rough patch I went through was nothing more than what most teens go through – only mine was displayed for the whole world to see. The drugs and alcohol abuse was just a side effect from trying to live with, and hide my real problem. It’s this problem, or disease, that I want to come clean about now.

I am bulimic
. I have been since I was fifteen years old. In the beginning, I was convinced I had it under control. I ate healthily and regularly, and only purged the bad foods and empty calories. Then, a year ago, things got worse. The purging three times a week turned to five or six times a week, and it became entire meals and not just the junk food. It got so bad for a while that I would sneak downstairs to the kitchen in the middle of the night after starving myself for a few days, and eat the entire contents of the fridge before getting rid of it immediately. The shame and humiliation I felt afterwards could only be numbed by drugs and alcohol. I also used them to get through the starvation periods, too.

I’m very fortunate to have had the funds to seek the professional help I needed before my disorder became
life threatening. I realize not everyone suffering from this disease is as fortunate. I want to do something about that, if I can.

The rest of what she said became a blur as I thought about all the
telltale signs I’d missed. She talked about how many people were suffering from the disorder and how she wanted to open up a website to discuss it further. A link was provided at the end of the video and the video itself was already at over one hundred thousand views in the hour or so it had been up.

I remained on the couch completely stunned for several minutes after
it had stopped playing.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” My dad said from the doorway to the room.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” I asked.

“Oh, I think she planned on it
. Then, there just wasn’t the time once this whole Twitter thing blew up. In the end, I guess she felt it wouldn’t change your mind any, Thatch. You saw her as a drug addict like everyone else did, and her admitting to an eating disorder really wasn’t going to change anything, was it?”

“I guess not
. You had no right to show her my painting though. Or Thaddeus either.”

“I didn’t even know Thad had seen it until he told me
. I
will
take responsibility for showing it to Heavy though.”

“Your nickname for her has something to do with her bulimia, doesn’t it?”

My dad chuckled. “Sort of, yeah. It’s a word that has always had negative connotations for her in the past. I went about changing that. Now it’s associated with a term of endearment and not a negative slur.”

I got up from the couch and stood looking at my father.

“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” I asked him.

“It’s never too late to correct a mistake, son,” my dad answered with a wink
.

“She’s not coming back any time soon, is she?”

“Not unless you go get her.”

“Pops, I don’t even know where she is,” I sighed.

“Well, it’s a good job I do then, isn’t it?”

***

After my father convinced me to go chasing after California like some sap at the end of a romance movie, I went to look for my son to explain to him I’d be gone for a few days.

Okay, so my dad really didn’t have to convince me too much
. I
was
that guy and I was going to go find her. I just wanted her to know she was welcome to come back to Vegas and shouldn’t feel like she wasn’t wanted here, or that she had to stay away just for our privacy’s sake. I could’ve called her, but I wanted to look into her eyes and gauge her response in person. I think subconsciously, I was prepared to haul her ass back to Vegas whether she wanted to or not.

I suspected Thaddeus might be in the bathroom cleaning
himself up after dinner. I opened the door and my heart jumped into my chest.

My son was standing on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror with a large pair of scissors in his hand
. Huge chunks of blond curls were scattered in, and around, the sink.

“Thaddeus
! What are you doing?”

The boy jumped at the sound of my panicked voice and the scissors fell to the tiled floor with a loud clang.

I scooped him up into my arms as he began to cry hysterically.

“It’s okay, little man, I didn’t mean to scare you
.
You
scared
me
. You know you aren’t supposed to play with scissors. They’re sharp and you can cut yourself.”

“I…know…Daddy,” he sobbed
. “I’m sowy.”

I carried him into his room and sat down on his bed, holding him on my lap.

“Why were you cutting your hair, little man? I’m not mad at you, baby. I would’ve helped you if you wanted to cut it.”

I ran my hand across his head
. There were huge chunks missing from the top and one of the sides.

Thaddeus took some breaths and eventually calmed down enough to reply to my question.

“I thought maybe you didn’t like Cali because you couldn’t
fo’get mommy. I thought maybe if I didn’t look like mommy so much, you’d like Cali more.” Then, Thaddeus started crying again.

My heart completely disintegrated in
side my chest.

“Oh, Thaddeus,” I sighed, hugging him tightly to
me. “I do like Cali. I like her very much. I was just coming to tell you I was about to go look for her and see if she wanted to come back to Vegas with me.”

Thaddeus stopped his sobbing and looked up at me with tear-stained cheeks.

“You mean like come back and be your girlfwend?”

“
Yeah, I guess,” I smiled at him.

“Can I come with you, Daddy?” He asked in a small voice.

“No.”

Thaddeus’ little face fell
. “Okay, Daddy,” he said in a heavy voice.

“What I meant was, no, not until we fix your hair, little man
. We can’t have Cali seeing you like this, can we?”

His face lit up with a big grin
. “No, we can’t! Otherwise, she might not come back with us!” he exclaimed.

“That’s right,” I replied, kissing the top of his head.

“Why don’t you go fix his hair while I throw some things into an overnight bag for the pair of you?” my dad asked from the doorway.

“Thanks, Pops,” I smiled, carrying my son back toward the bathroom.