I chained my bike to Maggy’s and took a few deep breaths before I pushed the door bell. It took a while before she opened the door and once she finally appeared in the doorway, she looked somewhat skittishly at me. She was wearing a pair of purple jogging trousers and a long T-shirt with an image of Snoopy on it. Her curls were sticking out in every direction. It looked like she had just woken up. Maybe I should have let her sleep in.
‘Can I come in for a cup of coffee?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Her voice sounded surprised above all and I realized that it had been a long time since the last time I had visited her for coffee.
‘Sorry for last night.’ She poured me a cup with shaky hands. ‘I shouldn’t have called you.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s a good reflex, at a time like that.’
‘Maybe it is. But I shouldn’t have woken you up.’
I forced a smile. It was not the first time that we had this conversation. ‘It’s all right. Really.’
She sat down, her face drawn in embarrassment. ‘It’s crazy. I haven’t felt like this in quite a while.’
‘You haven’t?’ It sounded more surprised than I had intended, but she did not seem to take offense.
‘I’m not going to say that it’s all been sunshine and roses the past few months, but the pills I’m taking at the moment do help a little. They take away the sharp edges, if you know what I mean.’
I nodded. I had stopped taking the antidepressants and I could hardly imagine swallowing them for years, but of course I was not depressed, even though Koen claimed every now and then that I was. He did not seem to grasp that there were a lot of stages between child-in-a-theme-park-excited and clinically depressed.
‘Then why suddenly this – this phone call last night?’
Maggy listlessly stirred her coffee, even though she had not even added sugar yet. ‘If I knew why, it probably would not have happened. Sometimes I really just don’t know what to do.’ Her eyes started tearing up. ‘Why can’t I just be truly happy for once, like normal people? Enjoying nice things, no more pessimistic thoughts, no longer listlessly lying down on the couch and not feeling like doing anything, no longer wandering through the house like a sleepwalker, but living – truly living.’ She angrily wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and took a few deep breaths. ‘Sorry.’
‘You don’t have to say sorry.’ I cleared my throat. ‘I know something that might help.’
Maggy looked rather resignedly at me. She probably was just as sick as I was of all the so called solutions that doctors, friends, family and vague acquaintances offer to you throughout the years when you suffer from a chronic condition.
‘They’re two known supplements that you have to combine according to a certain formula.’ I wrote the formula down on a piece of paper and slid it over to her across the table.
‘H'm,’ was all she said.
‘I’ve been taking it for one and a half month and it works perfectly to reduce my complaints.’
She added two lumps of sugar to her coffee. ‘You’re not depressed.’
‘That’s right. But it also helps against symptoms of depression. And they’re natural supplements that you can buy at any pharmacist.’
‘H'm.’ she undertook a futile attempt to tidy her curly hair. ‘I’ve been taking them for one and a half month and they work well for me,’ I repeated, as if I was mainly trying to convince myself. Because she had been trying to avoid my eyes all this time, I focused on the long, low cupboard behind her. On it, there were pictures of her when she was about ten years old, together with her parents. There were also some pictures of us together. Pictures of us as children and a picture frame with a few snapshots of our little trip to Portugal. Those frames had been standing there for years. There were no recent pictures. I occasionally asked her why she had not had a relationship during all these years, but of course I already knew the answer. It was not easy to have a relationship if you felt the urge to jump in the Scheldt every now and then. Every man would think it had to do with him and conclude that she was not happy with him and that it would be best if he ended the relationship. And even if he would not do so, it would be terribly difficult for him to live together with someone who sometimes just did not want to live anymore.
‘I’ll look into it.’ It did not sound very convinced.
‘I’ve walked seven kilometers last week.’
‘Really?’ She pulled at her T-shirt to straighten it.
‘At the heath in Kalmthout.’
‘It’s lovely there!’ She glanced stealthily at the piece of paper.
‘For years, I hadn’t been able to walk for more than half an hour.’
‘That’s right. Even though you really loved doing that in the past. Remember that one time when we went walking in that forest in the North of Limburg and got hopelessly lost because you didn’t want to stick to the hiking trails?’
I remembered. We talked for a while longer about everything except for Maggy’s suicidal thoughts. Smiling, we said our goodbyes, but it would not surprise me if she were sitting on her couch in five minutes, crying. That's just what Maggy is like.
The days after that, I thought about her a lot, but something always kept me from calling her. Three days after her nightly call, I had an appointment with my family doctor. A monthly checkup is what he called it, but I no longer saw the point of it. The only purpose of my monthly appointment with doctor Peeters seemed to serve towards paying off his spectacular house.
‘How are you at the moment?’ he asked, using his usual, annoying, lighthearted voice.
‘Better.’
Clearly, that was not the answer he had been expecting. It took a while before he answered. ‘Good to hear. So the new medicines are working, then. Maybe we should consider increasing the dose just a little bit more.’
‘You mean the antidepressants?’ I left room for a dramatic pause. ‘I’m not taking those anymore.’
Doctor Peeters restlessly shuffled back and forth on his chair. ‘What do you mean, you’re not taking them anymore?’
‘I’m taking rhodiola and phosphatidylserine now.’
‘You’re taking what?’
‘Rhodiola and phosphatidylserine.’
He looked at me, flabbergasted. The past years, he had undoubtedly wondered several times what in God’s name he had to do to help me, but now his desperation reached a visible climax. I was only barely able to hide the fact that I was enjoying it. ‘I take them according to a very specific formula that I received from a man. And do you know where I met that man?’ I looked him straight in the eyes. He stared back speechlessly. ‘In your waiting room.’
He blinked his eyes in disbelief. ‘In my waiting room. When?’
‘When I visited you the time before last time.’
He typed something on his computer. ‘That was May 3rd, right? H'm. And what is the name of this man you’re talking about?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
Doctor Peeters looked at me, displeased. ‘If someone is selling supplements to my patients in my waiting room, I think I have the right to know who this person is. Before too long, everyone might think they can simply start a business here.’
‘He hasn’t sold me anything. He just suggested some supplements. I have ordered them at the pharmacy myself.’
Doctor Peeters removed the stethoscope from around his neck and lay it down on his neatly tidied desk. ‘Then why did he do it?’
‘To help me.’
My family doctor stared at me taken aback. Apparently, someone helping others without expecting money in return was a completely foreign concept to him.
‘And I’m glad that he did. These products really do work. Better than any other pill I’ve ever taken.’ I had nearly said, better than any pill you’ve ever prescribed, but that was probably obvious. That was also how the message came across.
Doctor Peeters focused his attention on his computer screen again. ‘I only see women’s names that afternoon. What was this man’s name?’
For a moment I considered giving a false name, because I did not want to get J.P. into trouble. But maybe this was the only way to trace him again. ‘J.P.’
‘And his last name?’
‘I don’t know it.’ I admitted with some reluctance.
Doctor Peeters looked up from his screen. ‘You take medical advice from a man whose last name you don’t even know?’
‘I also let you advise me and I don’t even know your first name.’ I realized that it was a little childish, but I simply couldn’t hold it back. The past years, I had been bothered by doctor Peeters’ arrogance and that of certain other doctors I came into contact with. They all thought that they knew the truth about everything, that they knew more about my body than I did after examining me for a mere five minutes, but none of them had been able to help me.
Doctor Peeters still stared intently at his computer screen. ‘I don’t see the name J.P. here.’
‘They could also be his initials,’ I tried. ‘John Peeters. Something like that.’
‘H'm, no, nothing.’
‘It was the patient that came right after me.’
Now my family doctor looked straight at me. ‘There was no patient after you.’
‘Of course there was. What else was he doing in the waiting room?’
‘That’s a good question.’ Doctor Peeters rose from his chair. Automatically, I grabbed my handbag and walked towards the door. I realized that I had not paid, but it had been far from a conventional doctor’s visit.
He had already lead the next patient into his office, when he suddenly called out to me: ‘Wim!’
I turned around at the door. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Wim. That’s my first name.’ Doctor Peeters smiled. It was an odd smile and I did not quite know what to make of it.