by Holly Bourne
Oli was determined too.
Oli’s sinking was nothing to do with how determined he was not to sink.
Life’s just a bitch sometimes.
We’ve talked, so much, about what triggered his relapse. Even after everything we’ve been through and learned, we still want to crowbar in a reasonable narrative, a smidgen of logic into why a brain will randomly misbehave. But really, all that happened was one day Oli was fine, then one morning – a month into term – he woke up and found he couldn’t leave the house.
Oli hasn’t left the house since that morning.
He’s dropped out of uni. He’s essentially dropped off the face of any earth that isn’t the walls that enclose him. The therapist has to come to his house for his sessions. Even after two months, he has not left the house.
And I don’t know what to do.
I was always so worried about my own potential to relapse. Of my own tendency to butt-slide down into the centre of Crazy Canyon. It never occurred to me Oli could slide and I wouldn’t.
I was always the one who slid.
On my good days, all I feel is horribly sad. That this has happened to him, that this is impacting us. On my bad days, I feel angry. Angry at him for doing this to me. To us. Angry at him for not being stronger. Angry at the world for not just leaving us the hell alone. Angry that his relapse is ruining my first year of university – making me rush back to check he’s okay when I should be out having fun and enjoying being a fresher. Angry at myself for being such a heartless, selfish bitch for even thinking such a thing. Worried that somehow his relapse is contagious. On my lower days, when I’ve been kept up all night by his frantic messages, I’ll find myself buying into his anxieties, thinking, Oh God, maybe you’re right. Maybe it is unsafe outside, maybe I should copy you. And I have to ring my new adult therapist and talk it through with her until I feel okay again.
More than anything, like Oli said, it just feels unfair.
“You know I love you?” I said. “That I can love you and still go to this party?”
He half-nodded, his eyes narrowing, even though I could see he didn’t want them to. “I just can’t believe I won’t get to be with my girlfriend at midnight.”
It did suck. I know it’s stupid and superficial and New Year’s Eve is a big bunch of baloney, but it did suck.
“It’s not like I’m going to kiss anyone else.”
“You should.” He crossed his arms. “You should go and find someone NORMAL.”
“You know there’s no such thing as normal…”
“And you know that’s bullshit and normal people leave the house,” he replied.
BAD THOUGHT
Maybe if you just TRIED to leave the house?
BAD THOUGHT
For God’s sake, Evie. Do you not remember what it feels like? When did you become such an unfeeling bitch?
“Look, Oli. You’ll get there. You know rushing yourself won’t help.”
He looked up at me with his basilly green eyes. That were so very basilly that sometimes I thought he could cry into tomato sauce and it would taste nicer.
“Why are you so good at this?”
“At what?”
“At not making me feel like a dysfunctional arsehole.”
BAD THOUGHT
Because I don’t say what I actually think…
I held his hand, entwining my fingers through his, squeezing the webbing until it almost hurt. “Because I’ve been there. I get it, remember?”
“I know… You’re doing so well, Evie. I’m so proud. I just wish I wasn’t ruining how well you’re doing…”
“You’re not ruining—”
“I am. I know you’re never going to admit it, but I am.”
He was. Not that I’d ever tell him. About the sag I felt in my tummy when I had to leave a night out early. Or the way I had to keep lying to everyone, because he didn’t want anyone else to know he’d “failed”. His words, not mine.
But I loved him. So that made it okay hopefully. And he was right, I’d never admit it.
My phone buzzed. Lottie.
WHERE IN THE NAME OF BUDDHA’S ARSE ARE YOU? IF YOU DON’T GET HERE SOON I’M GOING TO TURN INTO A PUMPKIN AT MIDNIGHT.
Oli read it over my shoulder. “I guess you should get going,” he said, in a sad way.
My phone buzzed again.
A SEXY PUMPKIN.
We both giggled, him nuzzling his head into my shoulder. I took a deep breath and smelled his smell, letting its familiarity calm me.
“I’ll call you at midnight?” I stood up, still holding his hand.
“You might have trouble getting through.”
“Well, I can try…”
I kissed him once more. He tried to pull me down again, to get me into a deeper kiss, and I knew it was to keep me there longer.
Not that he meant it that way. Well, he did. But it’s not like he was proud of it.
“I really should go. I don’t want Lottie to turn into a sexy pumpkin. Whatever that is anyway…”
“Tell the girls I said hi.”
I pulled my coat around myself. It looked freezing outside – the sky full of stars, no clouds to keep any heat in. I liked the air cold. It felt clean and crisp and germless. I turned for the door, feeling a knife blade of guilt stab me in the guts with every step. But I had to go. I couldn’t not live. Lottie, Amber and I never got any time together any more – Lottie especially. This was the first time she’d visited since she went to London and everyone had been so busy with Christmas we’d not really got to hang out much.
I held the door frame just before leaving and turned.
“I love you, you know that, right?” I said. Because I did. I really did.
Oli gave me his sad smile. The one that I knew meant he’d dissolve the moment I walked out the door – spiralling and blaming himself and hating himself and all other sorts of unpleasantries that come from a brain that is more bully than brain.
What therapy says
But that doesn’t mean you should stay. It’s actually worse for him if you stay…
“I know. I love you too, Evie.”
“Happy New Year, I guess.”
His eyes were so sad. Like all the basil had wilted and died. “Yeah, happy New Year, I guess.”
Lottie has been sick down my fucking wall.
I would kill her dead. But even in her complete drunken state she actually managed to stagger into the back garden, so at least she was only sick down an exterior wall… So I’d only strangle her until she lost consciousness but let her live.
“Lottie?” I’d stepped out into the dark air, looking around for her. She’d disappeared from the party after yelling at anyone who’d listen about how “AMAAAZING” London was.
It was quieter outside, the music only a dull metallic thump-thumping. Luckily the cold was keeping people inside the house, so Penny’s prize olive tree collection wasn’t at risk.
That’s when I heard the vomiting. I turned and saw her leaning against the wall, being sick neatly down it. But still – being sick down my fucking wall.
“Lottie?”
She stopped, almost like my voice commanded it, and looked up like nothing had happened at all.
“AMBER!” She grinned. “Wonderful to see you, just wonderful.”
Christ, how was she this wasted? Lottie never really used to get wasted. Apart from that one night at Oli’s eighteenth.
“You’ve been sick.”
She wiped her mouth. “No I haven’t.”
“Lottie, I just saw you being sick.”
“That is not sick. That’s a…a…just something I ate disagreeing with me.”
“That’s what vomit is. That’s literally what vomit is.”
She stumbled on nothing, catching herself mid-fall and straightening herself up. “Ahh, relax, Amber. Take a pill of the chill. I’ll clean it up, just CALM DOWN, DEAR.” And she started laughing hysterically.
I used to love drunk Lottie. She was
random, charming… But today…tonight…she’d just been sick on my wall. Dad was going to freak.
As if on cue, my phone went. Vibrating madly in my hand – Dad’s number.
“Shit,” I whispered. “Lottie, please clean it up.” I turned and walked as far down the garden as I could so Dad wouldn’t hear the loud music.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, loudly.
“Hey, Amber.” His voice was slightly slurred and cheery. They were an hour ahead in their skiing place. “I just thought I’d say happy New Year before the phones all jam up.”
I smiled in the darkness. “Are you drunk, Dad?”
“I may’ve had a few après-skis, yes.”
“Well, happy New Year!”
“Yes, poppet. What are you and young Kyle up to?” He always did that, called him “young Kyle” – diminishing any seriousness about him. Even though Kyle was twenty-one now.
“Ahh, you know. Just chilling with some films. We might turn on Jools Holland closer to midnight – Kyle loves him.”
Just then a huge crash emanated from the garden shed.
“What was that?” Dad asked.
“Oh, sorry, that’s Kyle.” I made my voice even louder. “He’s just…erm…clattering with the dishes, trying to find the deep one so we can make nachos.”
“Riiight.”
I could feel the thump of the music under the gravel, but there was music blasting down Dad’s line too.
“How’s Penny and Craig?”
“They’re good, they’re good. Craig’s been…well…the exercise is good for him. And Penny’s loving the spa. It’s weird not having you here with us,” Dad started. “I…guess we need to start getting used to it.”
My tummy squidged. “I’m still here for a while. I’ve got to finish my foundation course first.”
“I know, I know.” He gulped. “But, well, this year. It’s going to be the year we lose you…”
My throat caught, and I took a big breath to try and dislodge the lump. “You’re not losing me,” I said for, like, the eighteenth time since I got the news. “I’m only a plane ride away, and there’ll be holidays.”
“Still though, Amber…” A pause; I heard the hesitation in his voice too. “It’s far.”
“It’s a really good art school.”
“I know, and we’re so proud of you, poppet. It’s just…well…anyway, enjoy your film. I just wanted to say happy New Year.”
There was a disturbance in the background. I heard Penny: “Come on, Brian, I need another drink.”
“Happy New Year,” I yelled, wanting to be heard over Penny. Still, after all this time, feeling like I was in a competition with her that I always lost.
“Yes…yes…what drink do you want, gorgeous? Bye, Ambe…” The line went dead. The noise of my party – and some weird tinkling sound – the only things left ringing in my ears.
“Bye,” I said, to no one.
I was leaving.
I was leaving home. I was leaving the country.
And it suddenly hit me just what that meant.
This house, this tiny town, my friends, the Spinster Club – I’d be leaving all of it. My stomach flipped again, my breath getting faster. I’d said yes, I’d made my decision. But the decision still regurgitated on me, like when you eat too much melted Camembert in one go and do cheese burps for two days afterwards.
It had, oddly enough, been my mum’s idea for me to apply for American art school. “The camp is doing well and we wanted to do something for you…” Do something meant pay the extortionate American college fees so I could go to art school over there. I think she expected me to pick a school in California, near her, but then I found out that Rhode Island School of Design is right next to Brown – right next to Kyle. And, even though it makes me the worst feminist in the world, that’s what made me apply. Because – there’s no undramatic way to put this – Kyle is my guts. Kyle is my family. He’s my insides. He is home.
He, oddly enough, initially didn’t like the idea.
“You can’t leave your country to come be with me,” was Kyle’s first reaction.
“Why not? Are you planning to break up with me or something?”
He sighed and pulled my head into his chest, rubbing my hair with his fist like I was a child. “Shut it, you,” he said, in his naff English accent. “You KNOW that’s not it. I just don’t want to be the reason you give up your life. You’ve got to do this for you, not for me, not for us. I love you too much to watch you leave everything just for me.”
“But you say such lovely things, like that!”
It had been summer. I’d gone to stay with him and his “folks” in their tiny mountain town outside Yosemite. His parents and his many, many siblings had made me feel like family instantly. My insides still radiated from the warmth of it. He’d pulled his computer over and started typing.
“What are you doing?”
“Actually researching this art school, so you can start wanting this for you…”
After an hour on the website, I was smitten. Rhode Island School of Design was everything I wanted out of an art school. I could just see myself there – with American friends, learning how to make amazing art. Kyle even got us cheap flights to go over for two days so I could wander around the empty campus and see how I liked it.
I liked it. I loved it even…
That’s when he smiled and said, “And now you have my permission to apply,” and I’d hit him.
I’d been scared I wouldn’t get in, that I didn’t have enough of a portfolio yet after only a month of art college. But I sent off fifteen paintings and filled out all the forms and crossed every part of my body it’s possible to cross. And, two weeks ago, I got an acceptance letter. I couldn’t stop smiling. It was like my cheeks were permanently stretched that way. Mum had screamed down the phone, with what appeared to be genuine joy and delight. Dad had looked forlorn but managed to say, “It’s an incredible opportunity, Amber.” Penny had said, hollowly, “Oh, but, Amber, we’ll miss you so much,” and it was so false-sounding I’m surprised parts of her didn’t crumble in on themselves. I’d told everyone at art college, and they all thought it was cool. I’d even told Whinnie, my friend from camp, who did a victory dance over Skype before yelling “ROAD TRIIIIP!” and booking me in for several weekends in Albuquerque despite it being a year away.
I’d told everyone really – apart from Evie and Lottie. My supposed best friends.
I just couldn’t bring myself to do it somehow. We’d split apart so much already, in a heartbreaking, horrific way that I never could’ve dreamed possible. Even though Evie was still living close, we didn’t see a huge amount of each other. She kept cancelling plans last minute with flimsy excuses. She spent a lot of time with Oli, but never invited him along so we could all hang out. And, Lottie, well…I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on with Lottie.
Speaking of which, I heard a shriek and another clatter. I ran back to the house and found Lottie on the ground, wrestling with my garden hose, which was spraying her everywhere with water.
“Turn it off, turn it off!”
I ran to the tap and spun it until the water stopped. Lottie lay on her back, half her body drenched. Then she started laughing.
“AhahaHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA, THE HOSE IS WET. THE HOSE. THE HOSE.” She held her arms up like a child and I sighed and pulled her upright.
“What are you doing with the hose?”
“I was washing off the sick I definitely didn’t do!”
I looked behind her at the wall where her vom had so recently been. It had gone – though it was probably now just diluted into the puddle under my feet. She looked so brazen and proud of herself and soggy that I couldn’t help but smile… She smiled back, shivering, her eyes not quite focusing. I felt a rush of sudden love for her, even though she was pissed and annoying and kept droning on about London. I realized I…missed her.
“You’re mental, you know that?”
“Who’s mental?
” Evie called, as she appeared at the door. “Who’s ripping off my brand?”
“EVIE!” we both yelled, running over to hug her with a big ooomph.
“Oww, Lottie, why are you so wet?”
“I’m not wet, you’re just dry.” Lottie hugged us harder.
“Ouch, Amber, you’re really working your biceps into this thing,” Evie said.
“Whoops, sorry.” I had got into the hug a bit too much, feeling sad and wonderful at us all being together. “I just felt the love.”
The hug broke off too soon as Lottie’s moistness seeped into my and Evie’s outfits. “How’s it going? Is Oli okay?” I asked, catching Lottie who’d stumbled on thin air.
“Umm.” Evie’s face clammed up. Yikes, what was going on there? “Yeah, it’s all good. I mean, he’s got a cold, so he can’t come tonight but…oh, Lottie, Will is inside.”
“WILL?” Lottie didn’t even say goodbye. She just careered through the patio doors, and got swallowed by the party.
“Aaaand there she goes.” Evie smiled, though her smile wasn’t her real smile. It was her tense teeth-gritted no-I’m-fine-honestly smile. “It’s freezing out here, can we go back into the party?”
I was about to ask what was up but she’d hurried inside.
“Yep, sure,” I said to no one, following her in. “I need to check the place isn’t being trashed anyway.”
Kyle seemed to have kept everything under control. People filled everywhere – cluttering up the stairs, perching on the edges of tables and sofas, clutching plastic cups, yelling to each other to be heard over the music. But no one – bar Lottie and Sylvia – seemed too wasted or troublesome. Lottie was nowhere to be seen anyway, nor Will.
“Hey, where have you guys been?” Kyle tucked me under his arm, kissing my face. “I’m teaching people the wonder of beer pong.”
“Hopefully in a place where there is no carpet?” I asked.
