Then she said, "Skyler, would you be willing to go sit with Monica at the front desk for a few minutes? She has stickers. I know you're too old for stickers. She has good ones."
When the door closed, Dr. Patel turned the screen toward him.
"This is her growth curve," she said. "Weight for age. You see where she's been, since she was a baby. Right along here. Fortieth, forty-fifth percentile. Very steady. Even after June." She touched the screen. "This is last year. This is today."
The line went down. Not a little. It slid down the screen like something falling off a table.
"She's at the twelfth percentile now. She's grown more than an inch and she's lost almost four pounds. In a year. At her age, that's significant. That's not a growth spurt. Has something changed? Is she sick? Is she doing a lot of sports?"
He told her about the boot. About Celeste's explanation. About the grief, the control, the literature.
Dr. Patel took off her reading glasses and let them hang on their chain. "Mr. Dawes," she said, "I've been doing this for thirty-one years. I've seen children who hoard food for emotional reasons. It does happen. It happens in foster kids, adopted kids, kids who've lost a parent. But here's the thing about those children. They hoard food, and they eat it, and they gain weight, or they stay steady. They are not losing four pounds in a year." She looked at him over the top of the screen. "Children who hide food and lose weight are, almost always, hiding food because they are not getting enough of it."
He did not say anything for a long moment.
"I'm required to ask," Dr. Patel said quietly. "And I'm asking you, not accusing you, because I know you, and I knew June. Who does the grocery shopping in your house? Who does the cooking?"
* * *