Houses

I get off the bus at the corner of Redwood and walk down it, by lines of the same little boxes on the hillside that Malvina Reynolds sang about. There is indeed a green one and a pink one, but I’m looking for the brown one four doors in, with the gigantic flower painted on the carport, the black iron banister up the steps and the “Hello” doormat that shares the landing with the jade plant. I ring the doorbell and Mrs. Smith answers – “Oh, hi, Maria. Lauren’s in her room.”
In the living room, Amelia is watching the Disney channel on a couch covered by an Indian bedspread. The living room opens onto the kitchen, where Mrs. Smith has gone back to painting light switch plates, but I turn away, because their kitchen is the source of this trouble in a way. Instead I walk down the hallway, past the master bedroom and the converted office where Amelia sleeps, to the second bedroom at the back of the house.
Lauren is lying on her bed with her cat, Ziggy Stardust, next to her, listening to Joshua Tree – “Exit,” to be precise. There is something creepy about Lauren listening to a song about a suicidal man right now, but I just knock on the door frame.
“Hi,” she says, still staring at the ceiling, arms crossed on her chest. “You can come in, it’s okay.”
She doesn’t look at me, but Ziggy uncurls himself and comes over to rub up against my legs. Lauren is wearing a purple teeshirt and blue jeans. Her skin is pale, and the healthiest thing about her is her red hair, spread out around her head. I can see that she’s gained weight since the last time I saw her, and feel guilty at once – it shouldn’t be that noticeable. I shouldn’t look at things like that. I should have noticed when she lost weight in the first place.
We talk awkwardly about everything but us – the news, movies, books, Vanessa’s boyfriend, anything. I haven’t seen her since her sixteenth birthday two weeks ago, right before I went off to visit family in Colorado, right before she landed in hospital with tubes in her arm. We are stepping around this, tap-dancing over the elephant in the room. In the half-hour of inane conversation, it is only mentioned once, during a break in topics, when she says, with eyes averted,
“It wasn’t about fitting into tiny jeans or anything. It was about being clean. I can’t explain it better – I wanted to feel clean. Pure. That’s all.”
I stare at her collarbone, visible where the neck of her shirt has slipped to the left, protruding clearly, and swallow.
“Yeah. It’s okay.” I lie. We continue to skirt. She laughs. A few minutes later, Mrs. Smith knocks on the door – “Sweetie, it’s time to take your pills.”
“Okay, Mom. I’m coming.” She swings her legs off the bed, and I instinctively give her my arm to help her stand. She takes it, and puts more weight than I expected. I help her to the hallway, where she lets go and doesn’t look at me. We walk down the passageway, over the grey carpeting and into the kitchen, where Mrs. Smith is waiting. On a section of the table clear of newspaper, there is a plastic pill bottle and a glass of chocolate milk. Lauren lets her hair swing forward and ducks her head to cover her face as she unscrews the bottle’s lid, taps two out into her hand, and when she puts it down I see the name of an antidepressant. She swallows them and grabs the milk, and I see Mrs. Smith standing by the counter, watching her with eagle eyes. In the living room, Amelia has diverted her attention to stare at her sister, too. And suddenly, I’m furious. Milk for her body and pills for her brain, is that it? Where were you when this started? I want to shout. Why didn’t you stare at her when she started losing weight? What does she need to do to get your attention? This kitchen, I imagine stabbing at the linolium floor with my finger, This is where all the trouble started, and you never even noticed that your own daughter, your own sister, was wasting away in it. But now, oh, now you’ll stare at her, you’ll just watch what she’s become, won’t you!
Lauren sets the empty glass down and turns to me, her eyes still facing the floor.
“Let’s go outside,” she says quietly, and I’m only too happy to leave.

Edit: Fixed some spelling and tense errors.