I liked reading Audrey’s story because never, not once, did she entertain the notion that she had been beaten.
There’s this one thing she said that keeps popping into my head as I swallow down my serotonin reuptake inhibitors and watch that damned blackbird jumping around on my windowsill.
Your mind adapts to what worse is. Suddenly, that thing that seemed so terrifying at first is dwarfed by the next challenge that comes your way. But you adapt again and again and again, until you find yourself fearless.
I never really understood what she meant until it no longer felt necessary to be afraid of swallowing a tiny tablet after I’d crawled through broken glass. Literally.
‘Stop tormenting that poor blackbird.’
My bones leave my body briefly. When I turn around, I find Luke in my doorway, hands in his pockets, pulling his jeans so low they sag off his hips and I can see the elastic waist of his boxers. I swallow back a sudden influx of saliva. A cord headband pushes his hair off his face. His eyes make me think of oceans; his smile belongs in a gallery.
My best friend. My boyfriend.
‘I wasn’t tormenting it. It was tormenting me,’ I say in my own defence, grabbing my bag off the end of the bed.
‘Don’t forget your balls,’ he says with a wink, pointing to the two rainbow rounds on my dresser.
‘Check me out,’ I say, tossing the balls up in the air.
‘Good job,’ he tells me as I juggle. The thing about constantly carrying around circular objects is that you turn into a circus clown. On the plus side, it’s been almost a month since I last broke skin scratching. Dr Reeves and I agreed that biting my nails was still allowed.
For now.
Luke cracks a grin and the temperature of my room rises to Florida-in-July degrees. Then he does this new thing we’ve been working on a lot lately . . . he holds out his hand.
‘Your chariot awaits, my lady.’ I hesitate, stare at his fingers, his palm. He has what a fortune teller might call a long lifeline.
‘Did you . . .’
‘Wash my hands first? Yes.’
He fixes a stare on me that makes me tingle from tip to toe. Acceptance of the strange is his superpower.
Before I have time to think myself out of it, I slap my hand into his. The medicine I’ve started swallowing delays my crazy just long enough for me to complete the action before deciding it’s going to destroy me. Once it’s done, and I can see that it won’t, Dr Reeves says all I have to do is focus on slowing my heart rate. Easier said than done for a woman who’s never been in close proximity to Luke for longer than five seconds. I guess that’s about to change.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind coming with me?’ I ask as we make our way out of my room.
‘Are you kidding? After all the things you’ve said about her, I can’t wait to meet the good doctor.’ He means it. I might have questioned his enthusiasm when I first floated the idea of him coming with me to therapy. But he hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past two weeks. I cosy up to his arm. Because (a) I’m addicted to the winter-spice aftershave he wears and (b) we’ve started down the stairs and I can feel a flutter of anxiety in my chest.
‘You okay?’ he stops and asks when we hit the second-to-last step. Deep breath. I nod; my jaw feels a little loose and I don’t want it to start jerking if I try to speak. Mom appears from the kitchen, giving me her my-little-girl-is-all-grown-up eyes over the top of her Best Mom in the World mug.
‘You can do it,’ she says.
‘You’ve totally got this,’ Luke affirms.
It makes me smile. And with that, we head towards the door.
But not before I take the last step twice.
Acknowledgements
Anne Hoppe, your editing skills are of the highest calibre; you have shaped this book into so much more than it was before, but beyond the technicalities of storytelling, I want to thank you for being such an amazing person. I was worried about this story, about how nonsensical it would seem to someone who hadn’t experienced my mental health at its worst, but you made it so easy to be honest and open. Thank you for loving Norah, and for allowing me to take the lead with her story so we could nail the perspective and share her experiences with anyone out there who may be facing the same struggles.
Barry Cunningham and Rachel Leyshon, I’m so grateful to you guys for seeing the potential in this story. Endless thanks for giving me the chance to be published on home soil. Your support and encouragement has been amazing. I still can’t believe I got to work with you guys. The opportunities you have presented me with over these last few months have been beyond my wildest. I’m indebted to you both.