Look at You Now by Liz Pryor Page A

Graham said you’re not eating. You understand you must eat?”
    â€œI get it, Mom, but the food is not just bad, it’s there’s-no-way-I-can-eat-it bad. So do you think when you come this weekend you could bring me a hot plate and some food? And there are no towels. I need bath towels. And I don’t have a clock or a watch so can you bring those things?”
    â€œOh, well yes, of course, honey. Listen, ends up I’m not going to be able to make it this weekend. I have several house showings that just came in for my new listing. Remember that big house on Sheridan Road? I am so sorry, honey, but I need to try to sell it. I will come up the following week, I promise.”
    I knew she had to work, but I could feel a black wall of terror rising as she spoke. She wasn’t coming. . . .
    â€œMom, you said . . .”
    â€œI know I did. But I am just getting this business going, I must stay here. Now promise me you will eat, Liz.”
    â€œOkay, I have to go, Mom.”
    â€œBye, sweetie.”
    I took a deep breath and dialed the next number: the only other person who knew the truth and could maybe help.
    â€¢ • • •
    â€œHi, Kate, it’s Liz. Is my dad there?”
    â€œHi, Liz. No, he’s on his way home. How is it?”
    â€œIt’s . . . it’s bad.”
    â€œI’m sorry, it must be really hard. Do you want me to have your dad call you?”
    â€œI don’t know, I guess.”
    â€œWell, do you need anything? Anything at all?”
    I paused, fighting the tears, and then said, “No, that’s okay.” And then I changed my mind. “Actually . . . I do. Could you tell my dad I need a hotplate and some bath towels and a clock, and . . . I guess some food for the hotplate.”
    â€œSure, and what about some clothes? Do you have stuff that fits you?”
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œHow about I get some stuff that’ll fit you and the other things and I’ll overnight them to you? Would that work?”
    â€œYeah, thank you, Kate.”
    â€œAnd when your dad gets in I’ll have him give you a call. He has a number for you at a phone booth there, is that right?”
    â€œYes, that’s right. Thanks again, Kate.”
    â€œAnytime. And don’t forget to look for your stuff tomorrow afternoon wherever it is you get mail there; I’ll get the address from your dad.” Wow, Farrah Fawcett was such an incredibly nice person, which made everything so confusing.
    As I hung up the phone I noticed a girl hanging around in the hall, watching. If I weren’t in the facility, I would have thought she was homeless. I figured she needed to use the phone, so I quickly opened the door.
    â€œSorry, did you want to use the phone?”
    â€œNo, I’m just bored. I’m Tilly.” She was the skinniest pregnant girl ever, like an-olive-on-two-toothpicks skinny. Not tall, not short, just regular. Her hair was shortish, straight, and floppy. She had a long nose and pale skin and was wearing what looked like an art smock, with grimy blue jeans and sneakers that were way too big for her.
    â€œI’m Liz,” I said.
    â€œYeah, I know.”
    After an awkward silence I said, “Well . . . see ya.” I made my way down the hall and back toward my room. The other girls were all in the lounge, as usual; the TV wasn’t on, but I could hear the chatter. Then from down the hall there was a shout. “See ya around, Liz!” Tilly was waving so I waved back. She reminded me of a Raggedy Ann doll.
    I sat down on the bed and thought about my mom. Maybe she had to work, but maybe also she didn’t want to see me. Maybe it would be too hard for her. I was a nightmare for her on top of her already broken life. Maybe she would never come, and I would be there alone forever. I remembered something my grandfather used to say when I’d tell him my mom had