Bone of My Bones. Cynthia Gaw
helping professionals—showed these three very young women that the world was a much more deeply sinister place than they had realized. And being a woman took on a new and unwanted meaning, a meaning they had been trying their whole lives to deny.
Chapter 9
For my days are consumed like smoke,
And my bones are burned like a hearth.
My heart is stricken and withered like grass,
So that I forget to eat my bread.
Because of the sound of my groaning
My bones cling to my skin.
I am like a pelican of the wilderness;
I am like an owl of the desert.
I lie awake,
And am like a sparrow alone on the housetop.
—Psalm 102:3–7
Sunday morning Megan didn’t wake, because she had never really gone to sleep. But she became more self-aware by hearing herself emit a sound about half-way between a groan and a cry. She heard Holly sit up in her bottom bunk. The groan-cry formed itself into, “Oh Holly, I wish I didn’t have to go down to that darn hospital again this morning. But I know I should; the tear is still bleeding a bit.”
Holly asked, “Janet said she’d stay with you; do you want me to come along?” She immediately wished she hadn’t said it. If Megan asked her to come, what would she do? She couldn’t bear to go to the place of humiliation again.
“I doubt if you want to go down there any more than I do,” said Megan.
“I didn’t say I want to go, but I do want you to be supported,” replied Holly.
“It’s OK,” came out with a deep exhale, “I’ll just go with Janet. But please pray for me. I really don’t have the strength for this.”
Just then they heard the door close and Lauren call out, “Breakfast time.” She set a brown paper Baguette Boy bag on the coffee table and pulled out four of their favorite bagel sandwiches, “Green Eggs and Ham.” The eggs were only green because pesto sauce was spread on the bagel, normally a tantalizing meal. But nothing would be normal anymore. And none of the three victims felt like eating.
They all wondered how Lauren knew they would not leave Gorman 924, even to go across the street to Privette for breakfast. “Thanks, Lauren,” came in a genuinely thankful but unenthusiastic chorus.
Holly immediately sat down, unwrapped the treat, and bit into the breakfast sandwich. It really was delicious. It brought a small, if shallow, sense of comfort. It was nutritious; and more importantly, it was she who decided that it would penetrate her body. Megan couldn’t take a single bite, so Holly ate hers as well as her own. Like Megan, Jill refused anything penetrating her from the outside. All three women were desperate to exert control over their bodies, healthy or not.
The day progressed with tears and regretful talk until Megan returned with Janet from the hospital. Janet stayed for some therapeutic conversation for a while, but it was the three victims that had long trusted one another who helped themselves on the road to healing. They knew each other well and had been open with one another for years. They had endured a common calamity, and they were able to honestly voice intense emotions.
They did not feel the same, but there were common threads which bound them together like cables. They suffered, but they were not suffering alone as so many others had to do. They had each other, and they all three had a vital relationship with a God who they did not believe would abandon them now. All three had been taught from childhood that one could not expect to escape misery in a fallen world or to always understand why God allowed tragedies. They all depended on Providence and accepted that suffering could be redemptive and sanctifying.
At about three o’clock in the afternoon, Megan said, “I’ve never been attracted to alcohol as a stress relief; but right now; if there was a bottle of whiskey (which I detest) on the table, I’d drink it, hoping to offload this crushing feeling of shame. That is not how I want to get through this. I need you two to tell me if I’m self-destructive. I don’t think I’ll be able to see it—I’m in a fog.”
Holly added, “I’m more likely to try and eat my way through this. I gained fifteen pounds when I broke up with Aaron, and that shame was nothing to this.”
Jill said, “I could easily become anorexic. All I want to do right now is go for a run. If I could really hammer for three hours or so, I think I might sleep tonight.”
But they prayed together instead. Megan didn’t drink, and Holly only ate the third sandwich leftover from breakfast. Jill went for a run, but promised to do only three miles. Megan and Jill still had not eaten, but they agreed to go to Privette in the morning as usual and eat something.
With a rehearsal in the Rosen and research for her theory class in the Troyhill Music Library, Lauren didn’t return to the suite until six thirty Monday evening. She was then updated on some resolutions made by the other three.
There had been no classes on Monday because it was Labor Day. They were all deeply relieved. None of them felt like going to class. But they all decided it would be good for them to go, regardless of whether they could concentrate. They decided that they would fight together for the new normal, whatever that was. They resolved to make one another accountable to attend all their classes. Although Lauren was not tempted to ditch, she would perhaps be in the suite if they had. She promised to challenge them if they were in the suite when they shouldn’t be.
None of them had classes between five and six o’clock p.m., and they decided to swim each weekday afternoon. Even when they had gone to different schools, the three had swum together in the summers on the McInnis team in Concord. It was the one sport they all enjoyed. They knew they should take special care of themselves now and committed to making one another accountable for a swim workout each day. Lauren was seldom available at that time, so she wouldn’t join them. But she agreed to support that resolution.
She also agreed to a new resolution they made to not keep junk food in the common room. Eating between meals in front of Holly would be a temptation to her.
They had already established a quiet time in the suite between six thirty and seven a.m., but it now took on the importance of survival. Megan read through a lectionary, Holly had a Bible reading schedule, and Jill used a devotional guide her mother had given her. Lauren didn’t go in for spiritual disciplines; indeed, she had no religious practice or faith. But she was glad the others followed this routine because it gave her sole use of the bathroom every morning at that time.
Lauren pressed them for one more resolution she thought would be good for them. “You need to tell your parents.”
Jill explained. “We’ve talked about that. You’re right; we need to do it. But we’re not ready. You can make us accountable for that—but not yet.”
Megan explained, “I’m eager to tell my mom; but if I do, she’ll tell my dad and probably Holly and Jill’s moms. They need to tell their own families, and the news will be devastating to all of them. It is just more than we can cope with right now. Tomorrow we’re all going to call our moms when we know they won’t pick up and leave a message that we’ll call on the weekend. Hopefully we’ll tell them then. We all talked to them on Friday, so they won’t be worried. We are sooo dreading it.”
Tuesday evening as all four residents of Gorman 924 were busy at their desks, Holly’s phone rang.
“Hello, Ms. Billingham, this is Detective Steve Konnenberg from the Poplar Police. I met you Saturday morning at Watauga hospital. Is this a good time to call?’
“As good as any,” replied Holly without enthusiasm.
“May two detectives and I come over in an hour or so? One would meet with Megan on the McGinn patio, and one with Jill in a Privette booth. I would bring Janet, and we could talk with you and Lauren in the dorm room.”
“One