Chords that Bind Ch. 17

Clara nodded her head and left the consulting offices.

Abe fumed in the waiting area as Clara spoke with the doctor. The cheery Christmas music playing in the background irritated him. Clara hobbled out, visibly distressed. She couldn't get the words out she was sobbing so hard. Despite his anger, Abe wrapped her in a hug. Griswold stood in the doorway of his office, quietly indicating that he wanted a word.

"I won't be a moment, Sweetness. Stay right here."

"No. Please don't."

"Sshhh. Sit. I'll be right back."

Griswold ushered Abe back into his office. "Mr. Kendrick—"

"Abe, is fine Doctor."

"In that case, I'm Alan. At the risk of violating doctor/patient confidentiality, I'm going to tell you what your wife is coping with." He took a pause. "Mrs. Kendrick appears to be in the early to mid-stages of an eating disorder."

Abe feared this, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. "How bad is it?"

"It could be worse. She's lost weight, but not enough to classify it officially as exercise bulimia. It's taking a toll on her because of the stress she puts on her body. It's natural it would manifest itself first in her feet, since she's a ballerina."

"So what do I do? How do I help her?"

"I gave her some information. She needs to eat, obviously. She needs to let her body recover and heal herself. I'm putting her on a diet that I give footballers. She needs to rebuild her muscles and put some weight back on, otherwise she's going to do damage her joints. I also gave her a card for a therapist who specializes in eating disorders. It's not my area. I can help her with the physical things, diet, supplements, and physical therapy—that is, if you want. You could find someone who specializes in dancers. There are a few I could refer her to—"

"No. I don't want her with a dance specialist. They probably deal with this all the time and think this is normal." Abe sounded bitter.

Griswold sighed. "Abe, you need to be supportive. Your anger won't help her."

Abe exhaled in a rush. "I know. I just don't know what else to do."

"It will take the full support of a team of people to help her. Like I said, medically I know what she needs, but her psychological health is another matter. How long is she sitting out of practice?"

"About two months."

"Well, that should help. She should be able to put weight on easily if she's not exercising. Here's a copy of the meal plan," he said handing Abe the sheets of paper. "I'll talk with Kessler and see when I can start some light physical therapy."

"She said the ballet company has a physical therapist."

"Hmm. Well, maybe I can speak to their person and see what makes the most sense. Most professional football clubs have their own medical staff too. It can be helpful to have more eyes on an athlete's recovery. Especially with Clara."

"Thanks, Alan."

"Not at all. I was surprised Kessler referred her to me, but I'm sure we can get her on the road to recovery."

"One more question... You don't treat any of the players from Arsenal, do you?"

Alan laughed. "Not right now. But I have in the past. You're a fan I take it?"

"You could say that. I'd best be off."

***

James was wrapping up a final few parcels for Cecilia when Abe stepped into his office. He looked grave.

"D'you have a second?"

James set the package aside. "Have a seat, mate. What's troubling you?"

"It's Clara. We've been to see the specialist."

"And?"

"It's everything I was afraid of. She's been skipping meals. She's been purging."

"Abe. I'm so sorry. What happens now?"

"The doctor gave her a diet regimen. She's going to see a therapist tomorrow. We managed to get the last appointment before Christmas Eve."

"How's she taking it?"

"Clara is not currently speaking to me."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" James felt for his friends. This was always a nightmare of a possibility. "How are you taking it?"

"I just don't understand it. How did I miss it? She lost weight. I should have seen it sooner. James, I failed her. Why did she think she needed to do this?"

"I don't think it works like that Abe. You've always been enormously supportive. Some things are outside your control."

"I'm so mad at her. It's like I don't know her anymore."

James didn't know how to reply.

"Well, we know what the problem is. She's getting the help she needs. Right?"

"I suppose. But if she doesn't eat properly, there's nothing anyone else can do to help her."

"Where is she?"

"Upstairs I think. I wouldn't be surprised if she cried herself to sleep."

***

Upstairs, Clara was crying silently as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She leaned on her crutches for support. Why was her body sabotaging her now? For years it did just about everything she'd asked of it. But now her feet decided to go on strike. She looked down at her thin legs, then at her arms, which were struggling to support her weight with the aid of crutches. She should really sit down, but she couldn't take her eyes from the way her joints protruded ever so slightly.

Hillary Strand, one of the senior principle dancers was the first to notice the changes and compliment her. Her partners also commented on how easy she was to lift and handle. Then she got passed over for the part she wanted.

She wanted her body's transformation to be complete by the time the directors were considering casting for The Four Temperaments. Now, it seemed she'd be unlikely to dance in that production at all.

Clara heard a knock on the door, but didn't move to answer. She kept staring at her ribcage and hipbones, wearing nothing but her underarmour sports bra and matching boyshorts. Just as she'd hit her target weight, her feet had to quit on her.

The knocks came louder. "Clara? It's me. Won't you let me in?"

Cecilia opened the door anyway, peeking inside.

"Go away," Clara whispered. She was shivering in front of the mirror.

"Clara?" When confronted by Clara's gaunt appearance, Cecilia swallowed a gasp. She hadn't been spending as much time at the ballet or with Clara since returning to London with James. Her friend looked thinner than she remembered. There were obvious bruises on her hips from being lifted over and over.

Instead of commenting, Cecilia found a long-sleeved shirt and some comfy sweats, offering them to her friend. "Here, you must be cold. Let me help."

Clara started crying again as Cecilia helped her get dressed. She was grateful Cecilia didn't ask more questions as her friend wrapped an arm under her shoulders and helped her to limp over to the bed. Clara cried and cried, letting Cecilia hold her as her mind recited the list of foods Dr. Griswold wanted her to eat.

How was she supposed to eat bacon and eggs? Did he really think she'd be able to dance if she ate rice, pasta, and meat? At some point Abe took the list of foods from her, but it was all Clara could think about now. She knew someone was going to make her eat, and she was too tired to fight. Maybe she could get away with just eating a spinach salad?

"Clara, what can I do? Do you need Abe?"

"NO!"

The forceful response startled Cecilia. "Okay, okay. I won't get him. Do you need me to go?"

Clara felt bad. "No. You can stay. I just can't face Abe right now."

"Okay. Well, I'm here."

Clara was so tired. "He just doesn't understand."

"Doesn't understand what?"

"You do. You've been to rehearsals and worked out with the other girls."

"I don't get it. What do you mean?"

"You see them. How they looked at me. They all thought I wasn't right for a soloist. I'm not tall enough. But at least I could be thin enough."

"Clara?"

"Oh, come on Cecilia. Abe didn't tell you yet? You were asking me about food the other day!"

Cecilia didn't say anything, but pulled back, trying to take in Clara's words and anger.

"The doctors think I have some sort of eating disorder! They fucking talk to each other behind my back with Abe. I'm sure you already knew!"

Clara hated the way Cecilia was looking at her. "I nearly fucking got to my target weight and now everyone's going to be pushing food on me. I can already tell."

"Clara, you're beautiful, you don't have to worry about that. Everyone at the company loves you."

"You're so sure, aren't you?! Then why is Alicia taking over my part right now? Everyone's just waiting to get me out of the way!"

"Clara, no one wants to get rid of you. Alicia was your understudy. That's just how it works. You know this."

Cecilia tried to hug Clara, but the dancer weakly pushed her away. "Stop it. You all sound the same. You and Abe and the fucking doctors."

"Abe is worried. So am I. They just want you to get better."

"The only thing wrong with me is my feet! I'm fine."

"Okay, okay." Cecilia wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. "Can I get you anything?" She wanted to leave this venomous version of Clara.

"NO."

"Alright. I'm going."

Cecilia left and saw Abe travelling up the stairs with a tray of food. "Abe," she whispered. "Is it true?"

He nodded. "Did she tell you?"

"Kind of. She said everyone else thinks she's got a problem. How can I help?"

Abe steeled himself. "I'm not sure right now. I'll let you know. I have to take this in to her," he said indicating the tray.

Cecilia nodded and continued downstairs.

Abe let himself into their bedroom. Before he set the tray down, Clara said, "I don't have a problem. You don't need to keep fattening me up like a pig for slaughter."

"If you don't have a problem, then you'll have no problem eating the bangers and mash."

Bangers and mash. Clara wasn't sure if she could think of something less healthy. She wanted to object. Maybe she could only eat a little and get Abe off her back.

Clara lifted the fork with monumental effort. It smelled like weight gain. There was grease dripping off her fork. There was likely cream and butter in the mash. And white potatoes. Carbs and fat. Just what she needed. Her stomach felt like a gaping maw, but her brain told her that her discomfort was worth it.

Abe said nothing as he watched Clara eye the tiny bite of food on her fork. All he knew is that she had to eat. Beyond that, he wasn't sure what to say or do.

Clara took a bite. She swallowed. She looked at Abe as if to say, "See? I told you."

"I'm glad you have your appetite back," Abe said, ignoring her attitude and hoping to encourage her to eat more.

Clara rolled her eyes. Abe resisted the urge to correct her. As long as she was eating, he could deal with her attitude.

The food was so heavy. Clara thought she could feel herself being weighed down. Another bite. Then another. Four bites was all she felt she could manage. She already wanted to be ill. She hadn't been able to dance or work out for two days. She felt antsy. If only her husband would leave her alone long enough for her to toss the food without him noticing.

Clara fantasized about getting a lead part and being part of the promotional campaigns for the next production. She wanted to be thin enough that the photographers wouldn't have to retouch the photos. She'd be gorgeous. She just needed to keep everyone from watching her eat.

Abe saw Clara staring off into space. She was so far away from him. For now, all Abe could do was be a constant presence.

***

"So Clara, can you tell me what brings you and your husband here today?" This therapist, Inez Olsen, was in the same building as the doctor Cecilia had visited, but she was a specialist in eating disorders.

"I was referred here by Dr. Kessler and Dr. Griswold," Clara felt like she was trapped in a broken record.

"I see you've had a recent injury."

"Yes. But I should be able to return to class soon after the New Year."

Abe snorted next to her. "Not that soon."

The doctor chided Abe. "You'd be surprised how quickly a dancer can will herself to recover."

Clara liked that Dr. Inez defended her. She cast a triumphant look at her husband.

"But it'll take the right combination of things to get there."

Abe nodded and said nothing.

"So you opted to come as a couple. Is that right?"

Clara set her jaw and looked away.

"Yes. I thought it would be good for me to be here and support Clara," Abe answered for them both.

"But what does Clara think?" the doctor quietly challenged.

"I don't want him here," Clara said none-too-kindly.

Dr. Olsen looked to Abe. "Perhaps today will be a solo session and we can explore a couple's session another time Mr. Kendrick?"

Abe wasn't pleased at being dismissed. Clara had all but kicked him out. Again.

"Please, Mr. Kendrick, will you wait outside?"

Wordlessly, Abe left the room.

When they were alone, the doctor turned to Clara. "Now then. Do you feel better able to talk about why your other doctors sent you here?"

"Not really. I don't want to be here either."

"Now Mrs. Kendrick, you must know that you have people worried. What better way to allay their fears than by embracing the process? If you really don't need it, then it won't hurt you."

"Fine. What do you want to know so that we can be done?"

"Dr. Griswold diagnosed you with an unspecified eating disorder. Can you tell me when and how you started trying to manage your diet by yourself?"

Something, perhaps it was appreciation for making Abe give her some space, let Clara feel like it was okay to tell the doctor. She was certain Dr. Olsen wouldn't tell on her.

"I got promoted at the ballet and it was all going really well..."

***

An hour later, Dr. Olsen opened the door to her consulting rooms and helped Clara out to see Abe. He'd been stewing since the doctor asked him to leave. How was he supposed to help his wife if he didn't know what was going on in her head and she wouldn't tell him?

They'd never kept secrets from each other before. Abe always knew what Clara was thinking. It was a shot to his ego that he'd missed something this crucial. What did it say about his fitness as her husband and dominant?

"A word, Mr. Kendrick?"

Ah. Maybe the doctor would just tell him now. Clara turned white. Abe made to follow the therapist into her consulting rooms, but she didn't invite him in.

"Mr. Kendrick, I think it's best if Clara sees me one-on-one for awhile. I think in time, it may be a good idea to see you both together, but for now, Clara will see me alone."

"Alright, but can you tell me what's going on with her?"

"I cannot Mr. Kendrick. That would violate doctor-patient confidentiality, as I'm sure you must be aware."

Abe ground his teeth at the lecture.

"If you'll forgive me, I might also recommend giving your wife some space."

Abe wanted to punch something. Instead he nodded as the doctor continued giving him clinical advice.

The doctor continued. "However, maybe it may be helpful if you came to see me one-on-one as well."

Abe raised his eyebrows.

"Come see me the day after Boxing Day."

Abe nodded, saddened that it had come to this so quickly. Separate therapy sessions? Was his marriage doomed?

***

Pulling into the drive in front of the townhouse, Abe was struck by how cheery and festive their home looked. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. It seemed so promising when Cecilia and James returned from the States. He never would have imagined this turn of events.

Clara hobbled out of the car without saying a word. She and Abe hadn't spoken since the doctor asked Abe to leave her consulting rooms. Abe wasn't sure how long he sat in the driver's seat of the car. Eventually he got out and went inside.

Cecilia was entering the den with a brightly wrapped gift in hand. She blushed and hid it behind her back when she saw Abe. "Oh! I wondered where you were. Clara's upstairs." Cecilia scurried over to the Christmas tree and slipped the present underneath its boughs.

"You weren't supposed to see that..."

"It's alright, there wasn't much for me to see."

"There's some leftover dinner. Did you eat yet?"

"No. Did Clara?"

"I think James brought up a tray for her."

Abe relaxed just a hair. "Thanks, that sounds great."

In the kitchen, Abe reheated the evening's leftovers while Cecilia poured two pints of Old Speckled Hen. She really was settling into the rhythms of their family. Abe took a sip and sighed.

"I know this is probably a dumb question, but are you alright Abe?"

He gave her a faint smile. Not too long ago it had been Cecilia who needed someone to confide in, and it had been Clara that she turned to. "No. But it's not a dumb question."

"Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Clara's therapist doesn't seem to think so. She kicked me out of the session."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah. I can't even be there for my wife."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Well, her doctor told me to give her space. But then how will I know if she's eating or if—"

"Clara mentioned that everyone was giving her the third degree about eating. Maybe that only makes it worse?"

"I don't know." Abe hung his head. The beer wasn't as comforting as it was meant to be.

"Clara isn't in imminent danger. If she's seeing the doctors and resting her feet, that's a good step, right?"

"I suppose so. Cecilia, I can't protect her from herself. What if she doesn't get better?"

"She will. But it won't happen overnight. Remember when I was hurt?"

"Yes, but you didn't do that to yourself."

"No, but it was really tempting to be self-destructive. Those first few days I wanted to die. It took time for me to come 'round. And the whole time you and Clara just stayed constant and patient."

Abe was surprised at her admission. But then, maybe he shouldn't have been.

"Well, yes... I see your point."

"Clara is just starting to get help. You can't rush it."

"It's so hard, Cecilia."

Cecilia gave Abe a hug. "Well, James and I are here for you, too."

"Thanks Cecilia. I feel bad putting this on you. It seems like you've just turned another corner in your own recovery..."

"I know. But I'm happy to be able to be here for Clara and you. It tells me I'm getting better and that I'm moving on. Should we consider making different plans for Christmas?"

"No. That was the only helpful thing Clara's doctor said to me: 'Don't act as if everything's different. Celebrate like you normally would and let Clara participate as much or as little as she feels comfortable.'"

"Well, I think that's how you should approach this, then. I'm no expert, but it seems reasonable."

"I suppose so."

Cecilia gave Abraham a hug and left him to his thoughts.

***

Christmas Eve dawned bright and cold. James rolled over to hug Cecilia close, but was greeted by a lump of sheets and pillows. Somewhat dismayed, but nonetheless, unwilling to get out of bed, James sat up and thought about the coming holiday. There was only one thing he wanted this Christmas. He hoped it wasn't asking for too much.

As he was contemplating this, Cecilia came in, with a tray of coffee and croissants. "Merry Christmas Eve!" she said cheerfully. James waited long enough for her to set the tray down before grabbing her wrist and pulling her back into bed with him.

"Omph!" Cecilia laughed and squealed as James tickled her. He was prepared for the violent reaction of her flailing limbs as he she struggled to wiggle out of his grasp. James shamelessly used his superior strength and weight to hold her down as she shouted and laughed.

"Stop! NO! Let. Me. Go!" she gasped between breaths.

Cecilia twisted to no avail, struggling to avoid James's wicked fingers.

"Alright! I surrender! Stop!"

James stopped but didn't let her go. A mischievous smile crossed his boyish face. "And what will you give me if I decide to let you go?"

Cecilia had an answer at the ready: "Your breakfast. Your tea is getting cold."