This is a spin-off of several works I have completed or are currently underway.
This series of short stories will follow a few of my characters through the rehabilitation process until they have their moment of clarity.
Some issues dealt with in thi...
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"Want to hear me count to ten?" Lizzie asked.
My niece was currently seated in my lap as she watched one of her favorite, morning cartoons.
"Of course," I said, with a smile.
She stood up, turning around to face me.
Apparently this was going to be a production.
Lizzie was three, and she'd starting coming home every day with new facts and tidbits that she picked up at daycare.
Last week, she'd asked my brother Ryan, her father, if he knew where babies came from.
He practically bolted out of the room.
Lately, she'd been all about numbers. Ryan said that they'd been hosting some sort of contest at her daycare, whoever could recite the numbers in order, up to 10, got a piece of candy.
Lizzie would do practically anything for candy.
And she proved that now by reciting her numbers, this time up to 12.
I reached over and high-fived her. "Good job, kid."
Ryan came into the room, reaching down and ruffling Lizzie's hair. "Mommy has something special for you in the kitchen."
Lizzie took off running, shouting for her mom.
"So is this it?" I asked, glancing up at him. "Is it time for the talk?"
"As soon as I know that my kids are preoccupied." He glanced over his shoulder before looking back at me. "Lizzie's been picking up on everything lately."
Caden came strolling into the room. "Am I on time for the intervention?"
"Funny," I deadpanned.
The three of us sat in silence for the next few minutes, watching the ending of Lizzie's cartoon show.
And then Ryan reached over and turned the TV off. "We didn't come here to watch Miles From Tomorrowland, so let's talk."
"I'm really interested in how Miles's pet ostrich survives in space," I said.
Caden cracked a smile at that, much to Ryan's annoyance.
"I know you don't want to do this again," Ryan stated.
"Rehab?" I asked.
He nodded in response.
"There's no point," I said, with a sigh. "Bulimia is something you can never understand. Trust me, I live with it and I still don't get it."
"It is something you can understand," Ryan said. "If the treatment center didn't work for you, then we'll find something that will."
"We already have," Caden corrected. "Well, I have."
