Tears collected in my eyes for, like, the millionth time that day.
“I’m going to sound like a fortune cookie, but you’ve got to love you before worrying about anyone else loving you.”
Dad and I looked at each other over Rose’s unruly mop of hair.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it time and time again,” I said. “You are TOO WISE for someone so young.”
She shrugged and wiggled her eyebrows. “I know, I’m basically Gandhi.”
“Well, that’s taking it a bit far.”
We both giggled until Rose’s face fell. I put my hand on hers and she didn’t even flinch at the rough touch of my bandages.
“How are you?” I asked softly. “Mum says you’ve gone through hell…I could kill them.”
“We’re looking into changing schools,” she said.
“It’s that bad?”
“It’s that bad.”
And there was nothing I could do but hug her, as only sisters can hug. Each of us clasping the other as tightly as possible, hoping that love, somehow, would seep through our embrace and cure each other’s pain.
It was a surprise to both of us when Dad joined in.
Good thought
I am so loved and so lucky…
The nurses came in and said visiting hours were over. Dad picked up his briefcase, put some extra chocolate on my chair and smiled goodbye. Rose stayed behind a moment.
“Your friends,” she said. “Amber and Lottie. Mum and Dad rang them when you went missing. They want to know how you are.”
“You didn’t tell them, did you?” I tried not to sound accusatory.
She shook her head. “No, but you should.”
I couldn’t, could I? They would think I was so stupid. That I’d just done it because of Guy or something, like some melancholic lovesick saddo teenager. Guy… Funny how quickly love can turn to anger.
“I don’t know, Rose, they wouldn’t understand,” I said, picturing telling them and them not being able to handle it.
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
“Is this because of Jane?”
“What about Jane?” I asked, though I sort of knew.
Rose rolled her eyes. “I do share a house with you, I have seen what she did to you. She was your rock, and then she dropped you like a rotten fish at Christmas dinner.”
“Is that even a saying?”
“I dunno. But it’s what happened. I saw her let go of you, when you weren’t quite ready to be let go of.”
I scratched my eye and looked around my tiny room, wondering for the billionth time how I’d got here. “It’s because I was so annoying. She couldn’t put up with me any more. She’d had her fill of my crazy.”
“Or…” Rose said. “She’s got ridiculous self-esteem issues and clings onto whoever worships her the most.”
I went quiet and digested what she’d said. Sometimes there’s a nail that needs to be hit on the head but you don’t have the tools to do it yourself. Right there, right then, my terrifyingly-wise little sister’s words banged the what-the-hell-happened-between-Jane-and-me nail right into the wood. It finally made sense. The hurt, the rejection…they weren’t just my issues, but Jane’s too.
I gave her one last massive hug. “What are you going to be like as an old woman, if you’re this wise already?” I asked. “Are you The Oracle from The Matrix?”
“There is no spoon,” she laughed.
“I bloody love you.” I hugged her tighter. “And I bloody love that you know that line! You are truly my sister. No matter what happens, I’ll be there for you…even more so when they let me out.”
“I love you too.” A nurse came up behind her and gently put a hand on her back, in a caring but please-go-now way. “I still think you should tell your friends…”
“Maybe.”
Forty-six
Sarah’s visit
Sarah came the day they took my bandages off. I’d already had a two-hour therapy session to help me come to terms with the state of my hands. But when she found me in my room, I was still staring at them like they were the Ring of Mordor.
“How are they?” she asked, without a “hello”, perching on the edge of my bed and putting her file down.
I turned them over at the wrist and watched her try not to wince.
“You know those baboons with the really gross arses?” I answered, thinking maybe if I made it a joke, it would hurt less. “I have a baboon’s arse where a palm should be.” And I cried harder than ever – because Sarah was there and she could take it better than the others.
“They’ll heal,” she cooed, letting me cry myself out. “The doctor said they’ll get better. You were lucky your family washed it off so quickly.”
I looked at her through my blurry tear vision. “I can’t believe you just called me lucky. And I can’t believe you sectioned me.”
She cocked her head. “Well, that’s not quite accurate, is it, Evelyn? You agreed to come here of your own accord… You’re only sectioned if you refuse help. You came here willingly.”
“Otherwise I’d get sectioned.”
“Well…”
“How did it come to this?” I interrupted with a hollow wail, that I could tell made even a seasoned therapist feel uncomfortable. She sat and listened, and made sympathetic faces while I, once again, relived the last month or so. The battle of the bands, the fight with my parents, Guy’s bedroom…
“I became a mess so quickly.” I tried to explain my sadness. The pain in me that wouldn’t dull, no matter how many paintings the art therapist made me paint. “It was, like, so quick, Sarah. I was doing okay, I was getting better, and then – BAM – I lose my life again, I lose my mind again. That means that, even if I get better now—”
“Which you will,” she interrupted confidently.
“Even IF I get better now, what’s the point? I’m always a week away from potentially losing it again. On the cliff edge of normal. Then what? Then what do I do?”
“You remember how far you’ve come, you get the help you need, and you continue fighting.”
“I’m so tired of fighting,” I cried. “It’s exhausting – trying to be like everybody else.”
“Do you not think everybody else finds it exhausting too, trying to be them?”
“No,” I said sullenly, crossing my arms and wincing as my newly exposed hands scraped the wool of my jumper.
Sarah was quiet for a moment, then she said. “What does normal look like to you, Evie?”
“Just being like everyone else,” I answered without thinking.
“And what does this great ‘everyone else’ do? Tell me specifically, what do they do?”
“Well…they…umm…they don’t get sectioned.”
Sarah actually rolled her eyes. “You’ve not been sectioned. You came here willingly.”
“Yeah, but they don’t end up here.”
“Maybe not…but when they go through bad patches – which everyone does – they end up in other bad places…down the pub…in a casino…in a stranger’s bed…in a bad relationship. If they know what’s good for them, they may end up in a yoga class…or running in a park.”
“What’s your point?”
“Everyone’s on the cliff edge of normal. Everyone finds life an utter nightmare sometimes, and there’s no ‘normal’ way of dealing with it.” Sarah sighed. “There is no normal, Evelyn. There’s only what’s normal to you. You’re chasing a ghost.”
I thought about it. “If there is no normal then, if we’re all just massive freaks in our own special ways – why am I here? Why am I on medication? Why do I see you every week?”
Sarah put her tongue in the side of her cheek. “Because, Evelyn, your behaviour isn’t making you happy. If you were cleaning the house ten trillion times a day but thought ‘well, that’s just me’ and whistled while you did it, well, it’s not so much of a problem, is it? But you’re miserable. You’re wasting hours each day living in fear, trying to control everything around you. Trying, ultimately, to control who you are. You’ve got to stop hating yourself, Evie.”