Nothing was close to normal these days. I was now best friends with the last person on earth I would think to be friends with. Kathy didn’t seem to exist anymore. In addition, I was getting married in less than two weeks.
The past three months went on like the weeks in March. Every other day I was in and out the hospital for some kind of drug problem or another tantrum.
In April, I spent most of my time in the hospital bed where they pumped my stomach of unknown substances. I had to have a psychologist talk to me every night, and Kathy had people searching my room for drugs every other night. They found nothing, which was even more frustrating. The ending result would be me on the cover of a magazine and the doctors giving Kathy a panel for a rehab clinic, which I never went to.
In May, another doctor diagnosed me with an attention disorder. He said that because of my lack of attention—I would take drugs to get it. He said tons of Hollywood teens did it. That was false in my case, because I hated attention. Of course, everyone blamed me for being an addict—which was crap. I had never taken drugs for no reason and would never do it for attention. As that continued into June, I mostly just planned my wedding and birthday bash with Ana. I had less hospital stays, and no tantrums—everything seemed normal again.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!” Ana came screaming up the stairs singing in a high-pitch voice. She looked different than she had four months ago. Her once long golden hair was now a short bob. And her once slender body now had curves from all the food she was eating.
“Are you serious,” I laughed as Ana brought up a Tinkerbell shaped cake with eighteen candles on it.
“Make a wish,” she sang in a high-pitched voice. “Make a wish, make a wish, make a wish!” She sang happy birthday to me while I blew out all eighteen candles.
“What’d you wish for?”
“Um…a good wedding,” I lied.
“Uh, good,” she laughed, as I am sure she knew I had lied. “But you should wish for more than that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe a good marriage.”
“What is that suppose to mean—”
“Hey,” Paul interrupted when he came into the room. “I got the birthday dresses.” He held up two party dresses. One was a skimpy blue dress covered in sparkles and one was a plain red strapless dress. “Ugh, it took forever to get these.”
“Ooh, I love the blue one,” Ana grabbed the dress from Paul. “It’s so cute.”
“Ew, I’m turning eighteen not twelve,” I pushed the blue dress away. “I really like the red one.”
“It’s so plain though,” Ana mumbled. “It’s very blah, you have like, ten dresses like that in your closet right now.”
“Well…it’s nice.”
“I see you’re turning into a boring mom,” Ana growled. “Or a grandma.”
“Am not!”
“Wear the blue one,” Ana said.
I snatched the blue dress from her and stared at it. “Fine.”
“Damn, you’re such a diva.”
“I have that power,” I winked.
“Well, get ready!” Paul said as he ran out the room to the doorbell.
“Wait, what exactly did you mean by a good marriage, Ana?” I said as I got out of bed.
“Oh nothing…” she said as she skipped out the room ignoring my question.
As they left the room, I took my medication so that my day would be drama free. I instantly felt good about myself.