That Reminds Me
Page 7
10
An atheist in crowds, talkative, lyrical without conviction, discussions taking on the frayed edges of an intelligent conversation. As I walk home, doubting each step before I make it, I am agnostic. Before I close my eyes to sleep, I am a Christian. When I wake, pulled from the pool still reflecting the penumbra, I am spiritual, I am thankful, but I speak to myself, until I step out again onto shaky ground, cracked pavements, slabs broken in half with my step across their severance.
11
I’m sitting at a circular table next to a bookshelf I’ve tried to find comfort in, opposite my nurse, as she tells me about attachment theory. The old books had pages as brown as autumn leaves, crisp under my thumb, their details now falling from my mind as I dwell on cold visits, being caught while downstairs. The only people left to visit are the work well-wishers – my friends having dropped me out because they struggle to understand that sometimes my behaviour is not my own, disrupting their talk of accountability. This place, with its art-and-design-time drawings on the wall and wake-up calls for medication that leave us lined up in the halls, is purgatory – too sick for ‘home’ but not sick enough for the place where your identity could be swallowed by the moans. I wanted to be anywhere, anywhere away from sharp objects and full access to my pills. There were days when I’d fall asleep on my arm and wake up to see my wrist covered with the marks of a desperate escape, and I’d feel nauseous, struggling to understand my want of an exit. And in those moments, I see that, for now, this has to be the home for me.
12
When they visit, guilt overcomes everything and I’m forced to walk down two flights of stairs to sit with guests who knew of my decline before I shattered on our shared path. I refused one and heard nothing from them again, killing me before I could kill myself. Why does my mum come here, why does she pretend to care when this home is just a continuation of the first one she put me in? She’s used to visiting me. Away. I want her to leave. ‘Why are you looking at me, K?’ I turn over to face the wall, my covers hanging off my bed and my arms as my pillows. My mum covers me up and whispers that I’ll be okay. I should call her when I wake up.
13
My brother is supposed to visit. My mum sits on the only chair in my room and tells me about his new job, that he’ll come when he finds time. He needs to make a good impression. I’m quiet so she gets up and starts cleaning up, stacking my books, asking if all this reading isn’t responsible. Having family in here must be hard for him, my brother, something he needs to conceal from friends, tell them not to show anyone. Is this place helping or hiding me? My body requires a trigger warning, so even on hot days I wear full sleeves. The truth is blood across my wrists refusing to bleed out. Even when I’m fully clothed, my brother can see through me. No wonder he won’t visit. I miss him and I’m sorry this happened to me, only because of how it’s affecting him. I shouldn’t be here. My mum finishes what she thinks is helpful and tells me about my dad’s coughing fits. Both sick at the same time but she, fairly, tells me no one would look after him if it became serious. She sucks her teeth and rises to leave, having been here for hours and not seen me eat. She takes my keys and locks the door. ‘I would,’ I say. ‘I would look after him.’ I pull out a half-full bottle from under my bed and start separating my pills for the week.
Acknowledgements
First I would like to thank my incredible agent, Crystal Mahey-Morgan, the entire OWNIT! team, my friend and editor, Tom Avery, Elizabeth Uviebinené and Sam. I’d also like to thank the entire Adegoke family for always supporting and guiding me. Thank you Musa Okwonga for being a friend and the first person to believe in this book and thanks to everyone else who gave me feedback and editing notes: Kaleke, Candace, Korkor, Eden, Isaac, Alex, Leash, Kayo, Nii, Nels, Symeon and Clarissa. And thanks to my beautiful mother and my inspiring little brother.
Resources
If you or anyone you know self harms or is struggling with suicidal thoughts, please contact the resources below:
CALM: https://www.thecalmzone.net/help/get-help/mental-health/
Mind: https://www.mind.org.uk/
Self Harm UK: https://www.selfharm.co.uk/
Harmless: http://www.harmless.org.uk/
Self Injury Support: https://www.selfinjurysupport.org.uk/
Recover Your Life: http://www.recoveryourlife.com/
Samaritans: https://www.samaritans.org/
Childline: https://www.childline.org.uk/
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
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#Merky Books
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Copyright © Derek Owusu 2019
Illustrations copyright © Relwyn Reffell 2019
Jacket imagery: Photo by Jasmine Moore/EyeEm © Getty Images
Author photography: Josima Senior
Derek Owusu has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
First published by #Merky Books in 2019
www.penguin.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9781529119053