Broken (32 page)

The last song is as difficult to hear as I expected. I try
so
hard to believe the lyrics like he asked me to but I just…
can’t.
Not yet. Will I be okay? I don’t know. But I
want
to be.

Without giving myself time to think, I get up and walk out of my room. I have only left the safety of my room a couple of times and I feel self-conscious, as if everyone is watching me, as I make my way to the staff office.

The door is open and Peter stands from his chair, walking over to me as soon as he spies me coming.

Dragging in a deep breath and holding it there, I mutter, “When Theodore comes inside today…I want to see him.”

**********

One of my nurses is due soon to watch over me while I shave. In front of the mirror, after showering and changing, I rub at the thick stubble coating my face. I look like shit. I’ve lost weight, my hair needs cutting, my skin is pale. I can’t help wondering how Theodore will react to me. I look nothing like the man he fell in love with.

He loves you,
I remind myself. I need to hold onto that, to believe it even when my mind is telling me not to.

When my nurse arrives, I make the effort, for the first time, to read her ID badge that’s pinned to her shirt. “Thank you, Jackie,” I say, taking the disposable razor and shaving foam from her. I’m grateful she lets me go into the bathroom alone, although she asks that I keep the door ajar.

It takes me a while to remove the hair that I’ve allowed to build up over the last few weeks, made more difficult by my thumb that refuses to cooperate, and when I’m done, I barely recognise myself. It’s been years since I’ve been clean-shaven, usually opting to run over my beard with the clippers. Again, I wonder what Theodore will think. Having smooth skin definitely accentuates the gauntness of my cheeks, but I look marginally more acceptable than I did fifteen minutes ago.

Stepping back into my room, I pass the used razor back to Jackie. “Thanks.”

“Looking good,” she says, smiling. “Doors open in ten minutes. You’ll need to wait in the day room for your visitor.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Thanks.”

My courage starts to wane when she leaves, so I read over Theodore’s letter again to remind myself why I’m doing this. I’m doing it because I miss him, because I need him, because I
love
him.

I haven’t been in the day room before and as I soon as I get there I don’t like it. There are several couches dotted around, and a stack of plastic chairs either side of the door. In the corner, there’s a desk with a nurse sitting at it,
watching
us. Someone is
always
watching us.

There’s a woman, younger than me, sitting in one of the large armchairs. She’s clutching a teddy bear which is tatty and worn, and nodding her head like she’s having a conversation with someone who isn’t there. When I sit down, a man who’s so young he might well be a teenager, walks over to me, wearing an eye-patch and fidgeting with the zip on his jacket. “I didn’t do it, you know. They say I did, but I didn’t.”

I offer an awkward smile, not knowing what he’s talking about or how to respond. I feel like I don’t belong here with these people. I’m not insane, just…sad. I’m not judging them, intentionally at least, but they make me feel nervous. I don’t know how to interact with them.

“He’s harmless,” says a woman, a patient I think, as she sits down beside me. She’s probably a few years older than me, smartly dressed with her auburn, flecked with grey, hair tied up into a neat bun. “That’s Jimmy. Schizophrenic. He thinks he’s in here for stealing his neighbour’s wheelie bin.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’m Nancy,” she says, holding out her hand for me to shake. “Depression, borderline personality disorder, and attempted suicide…for the third time. What are you here for?”

Wow. Blunt much?
“Bipolar and attempted suicide. I’m James.”

“It gets easier. Once you’re past the refusing to leave your room stage, you’ll soon get to know everyone. Over there…” She points to the woman with the teddy. “That’s Suzy. She sits in here every day but I’ve never seen her with a visitor. The guy over there, folding paper, that’s Gary. He’s bipolar and OCD. He’s a great guy, funny, but don’t touch his stuff or you’ll see the not-so-funny side of him. Have you got a visitor today?”

“Yes. My partner, Theodore.”

“Like the chipmunk?”

I laugh, the memory of his ‘I want to hate you almost as much as I want to fuck you’ face, still fresh in my mind. “That’s what I said when I met him. Didn’t go down too well.”

“I’m waiting for my husband.”

“You’re married?”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised. Even us crazies can fall in love.”

“Sorry,” I mutter, flustered and feeling like a gigantic dick. “I didn’t mean-”

“I’m just teasing. Honestly? When I’m on a spiral it surprises me, too. Three times I’ve been in here, yet he’s still out there, waiting for me.”

“Don’t you feel…
selfish?
” For some reason I can’t fathom, I feel completely at ease talking so frankly to this stranger. It’s her eyes. There’s something lurking behind them that I can relate to.

“Yes. I still feel that way. But you know, I think people, especially people like us, forget how powerful love can be.”

“How do you keep going? I mean,
three
times…I don’t think I have the strength to come back from this again.”

“Hope, I suppose. I don’t really have an answer for you. Every time I feel the same way. Exhausted. Numb. But somehow, at some point, that hope kicks in. It’s all you can do. Hope you’ll get through it, hope you can be good enough for the people who love you, hope that it’s the last time you’ll ever feel that way.”

“What if hope hadn’t kicked in? Or what if you’d succeeded?”

“A month ago that was all I wanted, for it to end. When I got here for the third bloody time I decided I’d stop trying with the pills, talk my way out of here and take a leap off the motorway bridge instead.”

That’s exactly what I thought, too.

“Now? I’m ready to keep going. Keep
trying
. It’s all I can do.”

“And if you spiral again?”

Nancy shrugs. “I have to believe that I won’t. So do
you
.”

“But you can’t guarantee it.”

“No, but you can’t guarantee you won’t be living the happiest day of your life and get hit by a bus either. We can’t live on what ifs.”

“You know, for someone in the loony bin, you talk a lot of sense. You seem so…so
normal.
”

Nancy laughs, patting my knee. It surprises me that I’m not bothered by the contact. “I doubt you’d have said that if you’d met me a month ago. We
are
normal, James. A little different to most, perhaps, but we’re still people all the same.”

“You’ve been here a
month
?” I can’t decide if the idea of being here that long fills me with fear or relief.

“Well, just under. What level section are you on?”

“Two.”

“That means they can keep you here for up to twenty-eight days. But if you’re a good boy they might let you out early,” she says, winking. “Hasn’t anyone discussed that with you?”

“My therapist might have but, well, sometimes I’m guilty of switching off.”

During an absentminded glance across the room, I spot Theodore hovering in the doorway. I stare at him, my heart hammering in my chest. He’s even more beautiful than my mind’s memory of him. His hair is a little longer, the subtle highlights grown out at the roots.

He walks gingerly over to me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and for a moment I forget how to breathe.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Nancy says, reminding me she even exists.

“Th-thanks,” I stutter, my gaze locked on Theodore. Standing up, my legs feel like jelly, and I consciously tug on the sleeves of my shirt. He seems as afraid to start the conversation as I am, and for a few long seconds, we just…stand.

And then his chest crashes into mine, throwing his arms around my back.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, holding on to his body like I’ll collapse if I don’t.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispers. “Don’t you dare apologise for what you’ve been through.” Pulling back, he cups my cheek, stroking the freshly smooth skin with his thumb. “I’m just so happy to hear your voice. And you smell good. I’m guessing you haven’t smoked since you’ve been here.”

Right until he said that, I haven’t craved for a cigarette. Now, I suddenly miss the taste. “Don’t suppose you’ve brought any with you?”

“No, and I’m not going to either.” He sounds so bossy. I adore it when he tries to act all alpha-male on me. It never works, but I’ll let him have his moment.

“There’s a tool in the drawer under the microwave,” I tell him as we settle into our seats, opposite one another. “For the lights. It’s like a small suction cup.”

“You can show me when you get out of here.”

I nod, attempting to smile, but the muscles in my face aren’t working. “How are things going at work?”

“I haven’t been in so I don’t really know. Max has it covered though. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But…you won’t get paid.” A sigh escapes from my mouth. He shouldn’t lose money because of
me
. “If you need anything, you can use my credit card. You know that, right?”

“My mum’s been helping me out, and I have my royalties. I’m doing fine.”

“I’m glad you’ve had people to support you.” It gets me thinking. “Did, um, my mother visit while I was in hospital?”

Theodore’s expression drops, and I already know the answer. “Um, no. No, she didn’t.”

The knowledge stings, but I’m not mad with her. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to see your child in that position. I let her down.

“Is it hard?” Theodore asks, changing the subject. He doesn’t need to admit it aloud for me to know he doesn’t like my mother. “Being in here?”

“I’ve been on nicer holidays,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes at me. “And…how are you feeling?” His voice is quiet, cautious.

“Are you asking if I still want to kill myself?”

“No! Well…”

“I don’t think so,” is the best I can offer. “I still have a long way to go.”

“But you think being in here is helping?”

“I hope so.”

He looks disappointed, but I can’t lie to him to make him feel better. That’s what landed me in here in the first place.

“What about you? How have
you
been?”

“Terrified.”

Reaching out, I take his hand in mine. The warmth of his skin, the way his fingers fit perfectly in mine, makes all my problems disappear…for now, at least.

“Why wouldn’t you see me?” he asks, his voice low, hesitant.

“Shame. Anger…”

“You were angry with me?”

“I was angry that you saved my life. I was angry that you were still here, that you didn’t move on. I was angry at
myself
for hurting you, for not doing the job properly. I was angry at
everything
.”

“God, James,” he breathes, closing his eyes while he comprehends what I’m saying. “I wish you’d felt like you could tell me these things.”

“I’m working on that.”

“With Peter?”

“Yes.”

“You like him?” He looks surprised.

“Some of the time. He gets me to talk. I’ve no idea how.”

“I do. You won’t let
anyone
be a bigger arsehole than
you
. He’s making you fight for dominance.”

Blowing out a chuckle, I nod. “You might be onto something there.”

For the rest of our time together we talk about casual things – Tess and her girlfriend, his brother and impending fatherhood, the fact the walls in this room are painted vomit-yellow. The conversation is light, easy, and he doesn’t push me for anything more.

At one point his gaze lands on my wrist, and I stop him when he reaches out to touch it. “Not yet,” I whisper, tugging on my sleeve.

He nods faintly, immediately focusing on my face. “Can I come back tomorrow?” he asks after the nurses rings the time-up bell.

Cupping the back of his neck, I press my forehead to his. “I’d like that.”

He’s so close, yet I don’t feel the urge to kiss him. Holding him, inhaling his scent, feeling the warmth of his breath on my face, is all I need. When he finally breaks away I feel like I’ve healed just a tiny bit more.

“And Max? I know he’s desperate to see you.”

Blowing steadily through pursed lips, I try to quell the anxiety taking over my body. “Sure.”

He’s your brother. You can do this.

“Is he…” I cough to clear the lump of nerves that’s appeared in my throat. “Is he mad at me?”