I stay in bed the next morning until the need to use the toilet drives me out. My tongue is furry and my head clogged. Still, I take one of the new pills, fumble through breakfast and then go down into the garage and set up the pool table.
As I thrust my cue forward, the floor crumples beneath me. The splatter of the balls coincides with an explosion of fear that consumes me. The tremor in my arms crawls up into my back and sinks into my stomach until nausea rises and my head spins with a certainty that I’m going to pass out. My legs grow weak. This is it. This is where I’ve hit the point of no return. And it doesn’t abate to where it’s manageable, just keeps rolling over in waves.
I run into the house and slide open the kitchen door. ‘Can we go to hospital?’
Mum’s ironing on the bench that separates the kitchen from the dining room. Dad’s on his chair, reading the paper. Both look up sharply.
‘Why?’ Mum comes over. ‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter?’
‘This…’ I lift my hands to my head.
‘It’s all right,’ Mum says.
‘Can we go? Please.’
It’s not long before we’re repeating the trip we took last time – Dad driving and dropping us off outside, Mum going up to reception and me doubled over in a chair, my head in my hands. Now, there’s nothing but chaotic thoughts and the certainty that this is the breakdown Dr Dimmock warned me about.
Dad shows up and paces. Mum tells him to wait by me and walks off. Some untouched fleck of my mind wells up with guilt over what I’m putting them through. I feel like a burden. And a failure. Is this what it’ll be like for the rest of my life? Will I always be relying on Mum and Dad – and Steph – to save me?
I’m faulty. I wasn’t built to function in this world.
Steph comes before too long and sits next to me. She puts an arm around me. ‘What’s wrong?’ she says.
‘I feel like I’m falling apart.’
Steph rubs my back. It’s good to have somebody there I can talk to but again, I think about the inconvenience I must be. She must’ve been relaxing on a Sunday. That’s where Mum disappeared to – to call Steph. So, Steph puts everything on hold to come see me.
‘It’ll be okay,’ she says. ‘You’ll be all right.’
I can’t believe that – not anymore. Things have been happening inside me that I haven’t been able to stop. They’ve torn up the way I used to think and things that I used to do unthinkingly – like going to a party or a wedding – have become a war.
My name’s called and I’m led into another of those little rooms. Steph comes with me, while Mum and Dad wait outside. I get a different doctor this time, a big woman with wavy hair tied back but for the fringe that hangs loose, my file in her hand. She introduces herself as Dr Carlisle and puts the file besides me so she can check my vitals – pulse, heartbeat, blood pressure. I tell her what happened but how that’s only the tip of everything that’s been going on. Steph puts her arm back around me. Dr Carlisle picks up my file and flicks through it.
‘My brother’s been coming here a while,’ Steph says. ‘I don’t want to be walking out of here thinking he just has to tolerate this.’
‘Of course not,’ Dr Carlisle says. ‘I don’t want to prescribe anything over what’s already going on. I’m going to give Dr Dimmock a call.’
Dr Carlisle pulls back the curtain to let Mum and Dad in, Mum’s eyes misty.
‘What’s happening?’ Mum says.
‘She’s going to call the doctor he sees,’ Steph says.
‘What do these doctors know?’ Dad says.
Then it’s quiet because nobody knows what there is to be said. I close my eyes. The thoughts are dimmer. It’s tiredness. Or maybe resignation. That always seems the answer: escape in sleep. But I always wake up. That’s reality. And reality is this. This always. This waiting for me. Sleep is better.
Dr Carlisle comes back through the curtain. ‘Dr Dimmock is occupied with another patient at another hospital,’ she says. ‘But we’ve arranged for him to come in tomorrow at nine.’
‘What’s my brother supposed to do until then?’ Steph says.
‘Dr Dimmock said to take two of your sedatives and one of your new prescription.’
‘And if that doesn’t work?’ Steph says.
‘Then come back in here.’ Dr Carlisle looks at me. ‘You’ll be okay. Trust me.’