Green to Red

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. They were so beautiful, my breath caught in my throat, and I had to remind myself, "In and out."

Of course, I knew they would like like this--leaves change color in autumn. That much was a fact, but I was still taken aback.

Even if I knew it logically, I saw the leaves in all their magnificent red and orange glory, and I could have cried.

"Oliver, dear, are you all right?"

I looked at my mother and slowly nodded. I forgave her silently for her sympathetic tone; she was still trying to cope with all of this. For that matter, so was I. "I'm fine. I'm just - I haven't been outside of that place in forever."

"You know it's only been two weeks, don't you?"

"Even so," I said insistently. "Last time I was outside, it was still hot, and it was summer, technically. A lot can change in two weeks, right?"

"Right..." she took a step closer to me and caressed my cheek. "You do seem to be doing better. Are you?"

"Mom!" I swatted her hand away, but she only returned it to replace a stray lock of my hair. I groaned loudly. "I've already said I'm fine, so can you please just take me home now?"

She chuckled half-heartedly and murmured, "If you're sure that is what you want."

I rolled my eyes as we walked toward the car. "That is what I said. What else would we do?"

"We could go see a movie or something," she suggested.

I smiled but shook my head. "Maybe another time, Mom."

"Why not? It could be fun! Just the two of us, watching Hocus Pocus or whatever else is playing"--it did sound like fun, at least until she continued--"and we could go to dinner afterward."

My face fell. "Seriously, Mom, I just want to go home!"

As I opened the passenger-side door, I saw her chewing her lip and felt terrible for snapping. I wasn't ready to apologize quite yet, though.

She played some old music on the drive home. It was Fleetwood Mac's album Rumors, I think. I would never tell her, but I actually kind of enjoyed it. At the very least, it was a pleasant ambiance to staring out the window.

Although everything was basically the same, a lot had changed in the past two weeks. So many trees were starting to change color. Some of them were only fiery at their tops; others had splotches of orange here and there. I couldn't help my longing to see them more closely.

Autumn had always been my favorite season, though I didn't know why. Well, I guess that was a lie--I did know.

As a kid, the crisp air gave me a sense of anticipation so powerful I would run around the yard and giggle. I would rake leaves with my dad just to jump into them when the pile was deemed "big enough." Then, as I went inside with a running nose, I remembered I had pumpkin-carving to look forward to, and Halloween, the best holiday.

As a kid, it was all about how much fun I could have and how much a nuisance I could be, as was natural for a little boy.

Now that I was older--albeit only seventeen, though I felt like I was nearing seventy-three--it sure wasn't about candy anymore. There was something in how, one day, even a simple leaf was different, changed. Suddenly, the air was a bit nippier, it grew acceptable to wear sweaters all the time, and even the plants realized it was time for something new.

Autumn meant football games, and fallen leaves crunching beneath your feet, and dressing up for Halloween, the still-superior holiday. Only now, it was about becoming someone else, not pretending to be your favorite superhero or Disney princess for the day.

Even in high school, I still loved the costumes, horror movies, and even candy. At least, I did until I, like the leaves, suddenly changed from green to red.

My eyes fell to the hospital band I had worn on my wrist for the past two weeks. It had everything from my full name to my birthday and a random collection of numbers like a product on the shelves with value and a serial code.

Mom pulled the car keys from their slot; it drew my attention. "Did you speed or something?"

"No, I went the speed limit," she assured me with a quirked brow.

"It just felt fast."

"Probably because you were deep in thought. You didn't even bother to complain about my 'old people' music."

"Anything is better than what they play at nurses' stations in a hospital ward when they think no one is listening," I promised her. I paused before hesitantly asking, "Has, uh--has Kara been around at all?"

Mom's lips pursed. "No, she hasn't, hun."

"Oh," I said as nonchalantly as possible, "okay."

"I'm sorry, sweetie."

"It's okay, Mom. I-I'm just going to go to my room for a while, try to catch up on my schoolwork."

She gave me a look I was growing increasingly familiar with. There were a million and ten things she wanted to say couldn't figure out how. "Dinner will be ready in probably an hour. You should have time to complete an assignment or two."

My room was more of a mess than I remembered. The biggest problem was the random clothes I had thrown on the floor after I was done wearing them or decided not to wear them at all.

I was no better than a teenage girl.

On my bookshelf, which really only had a few dozen books, I saw my still-shiny trophies from the championship games my football team had won. I wondered if I would be able to play again, despite my illness.

With a sigh, I brought my phone from my pocket and dialed a number. Almost immediately, my best friend answered.

"You're alive!"

"You saw me yesterday," I pointed out as I laughed and launched myself onto my bed. "Whether I want to be or not, I'm still here."

"Careful," James warned me. "Saying stuff like that could get you into trouble."

I already had to talk to a therapist once a week, so I exclaimed, "Not you, too!"

"C'mon, man, you know I'm worried about you. And I'm not the only one."

"Who else would care?" I asked with a scoff, but he probably detected my hopeful desperation.

"Well, the entire team's been asking about you, even Coach." To my silence, he replied, "You did pass out in front of them."

"Believe it or not, I do remember that." I dropped my voice. "What about Kara?"

"Why do you even care, Oli? After what she said about you?"

"She didn't mean it; she was just worried about me."

"So was I, but did you hear me call you a--"

"Don't say it!"

He went quiet for a while before muttering, "I'm sorry, man."

"No, I am. You're right; Kara did call me a-a freak."

"You know she's wrong, don't you?" Something thudded in the background, and some inaudible dialogue ensued. "I've gotta go. My sister had a fight with her boyfriend."

"Go beat him up, dude," I encouraged him supportively before he hung up. As soon as his image disappeared from my screen, I stood, turned, and chucked my phone against a pillow.

I remember that first night in the hospital, how chaotic it was. Doctors and nurses rushed around, sticking me with needles and asking for samples. Of course, this was after being transferred from my high school's pep rally by ambulance. As it turned out, passing out in front of literally the entire student body and faculty alike warranted a ride in the "wee-woo" wagons.

The first moment I was alone, I checked my phone to find 200+ messages from James and snaps from various other friends. Only one from Kara, though: "What the hell happened?"

Before I got around to answering her, however, I received a text telling me not to check Instagram for a while. So, of course, I had to. When I did, I wanted to die right then and there.

One of the Media Tech students had been filming the rally via Instagram Live. She made sure a particular focus was given to the football players as we took turns spouting some inspirational crap. I had already done my part, and our quarterback was saying something about the school's support. I was having a hard time paying attention.

I knew something was wrong when I suddenly felt like I was experiencing the world from inside a bubble. It was like I was in slow motion, but everything else was spinning rapidly. I could hardly stand. Then, it all went black.

I learned by watching it myself that the entire situation was caught live. In the background, people gasped and called for help. At first, Kara ran to me but came back after the paramedics took me away with my mom freaking out in the ambulance. She, though ashen, murmured to one of her friends, "I don't know what that freak expected; he's barely alive as it is..."

The person who recorded it realized she was still streaming and immediately shut it off, but not before it circulated. I haven't heard from Kara since.

I lifted my shirt up and stared at the body before me in the mirror. Its ribs were visible and abdomen seriously sunken in. All that was left was skin and bone.

I knew I was sick a long time ago. Even before the fainting, ambulance, inpatient hospitalization, and humiliating nasogastric feeding tube, the dark circles that had developed under my eyes told me as much. Even though I looked "better" now, more healthy, I still wasn't who I used to be before all of this.

As I said, I knew I was sick, but I still didn't know how to stop. I doubt I ever will.

"Dinner's ready!" Mom called.

I flushed the toilet even though I'd only been in the bathroom for the mirror. I didn't want my mother to worry about me after spending so much money on my inpatient care.

"I'll be a minute!" I called back.

I turned on the faucet to drown out my heaving gasps and rattling sobs. After a moment, I splashed some cold water on my face and walked to the kitchen.

I even managed to sound sincere when I asked her what was for dinner.