‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m here.’ I’m still spaced out, but I know that’s also partly the meds.
Josh sighs. ‘Oh, thank God, Neens. Are you … you know, OK?’
‘I guess it depends on your definition of OK,’ I say, trying to be a bit jokey. ‘I’m not psychotic any more, if that’s what you mean.’
‘That’s not what I meant!’
‘No, I know, I know. I’m sorry.’ I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been dying to speak to him, but it’s like I’ve forgotten how. ‘I’m feeling really groggy – from the meds,’ I try to explain. ‘And I had this intense counselling session which wiped me out.’
‘You’ve got a lot going on.’
‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’
‘No, no, don’t be sorry. I … I love you, Neens.’
I manage a smile. It’s so good to hear him say that. ‘I love you too.’
There’s silence. It seems he’s forgotten how to talk to me too. My insides twist. Why did things have to change?
He gives an awkward cough. ‘So you’re … all right?’
‘Sort of … Does everyone at school know about me?’ I hadn’t realized how much that’s been bothering me. I want to know. I don’t want to know. I hold my breath.
‘No one knows anything. They think you’ve got really, really bad flu.’
‘Oh …’ Relief washes over me. ‘Good.’ I don’t want to hide but I’m also not ready to talk about this yet. I guess I need time to get used to everything myself first.
‘Josh,’ I say, feeling a sudden burst of warmth in my chest. He’s my very, very good friend. He’s known me most of my life. He’s seen me in my bra. And held me while I’ve cried. ‘I’ve missed you,’ I tell him, as I imagine hugging him. I can almost feel the warmth of his body.
‘Can I come and see you?’ Josh says. ‘I didn’t know what to do when I couldn’t get hold of you. I thought about coming to your garden or something. Can you sneak out?’
‘No!’ I say, a bit too abruptly. But I’m picturing the impossibly dark circles round Mum and Dad’s eyes. Anxiety flares up in my throat like fire. ‘Please don’t come here, Josh. My parents – my dad …’
He doesn’t say anything. I take a slow, deep breath. I know Josh isn’t going to do anything I don’t want him to – I just need to talk to him.
‘I want to see you,’ I tell him, ‘but let’s meet up somewhere else.’
‘Yeah, OK. I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure you were up to leaving the house …’
The panic subsides and I close my eyes. I imagine being under the willow tree with him, my head resting against his chest, listening to the strength of his heartbeat.
‘I’m still weak,’ I tell him honestly. ‘But maybe in a few days?’
‘Whatever you need, Neens.’
We’re quiet again.
‘Have you been stargazing?’ I ask, suddenly wanting to know everything I’ve missed.
He laughs. ‘Of course! And I’ve been thinking of you …’
I smile. And I think he’s smiling too.
‘Neens?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Was it my fault?’ he says. ‘What happened to you. Did I do that to you?’
‘What?’
‘If I hadn’t pressured you to go out with me … If you hadn’t had to deal with all that lying, all that guilt … And then I practically made you come out that night …’ Josh sounds like he’s crying now. ‘I’m so sorry, Neens.’
My heart is bursting. I wish so much that I could hug him right now. ‘No, Josh,’ I say to him. ‘You didn’t force me into anything! You’re the best thing in my life. How can you think that?’
He’s quiet. Sniffs.
‘Josh?’
‘It’s just … If I wasn’t in your life, things would be a lot simpler for you, wouldn’t they?’ he says.
I breathe in deeply. ‘Maybe. But I don’t want that, OK?’
‘I just want things back to normal,’ he says.
‘And they will be,’ I tell him. ‘Soon.’
But, even as I say it, I know it’s not true. Everything, absolutely everything, has changed.
I message Fi after I speak to Josh, telling her not to visit the house. She turns up anyway, exactly twenty minutes later. We all sit in the living room, politely sipping tea. Dad is staring at his feet; Mum looks teary and tired. But they both try to smile. Fi’s holding a piece of paper, which she keeps glancing at nervously.
‘I need to tell you all something,’ she says, and her voice is quiet and shaky. ‘It’s to do with Akash. And … and I’d really appreciate it if I could just talk. And then I’ll leave you in peace.’
Mum and Dad don’t say anything.
‘It’s OK, Fi,’ I say.
She nods. Keeps her eyes on mine. ‘Akash and I, we had a fight the night it happened.’ She glances at Mum and Dad, and they look at each other. My heart beats hard against my chest.
‘That’s why he left mine and went over to a friend’s house – Jay’s …’ She glances at Mum and Dad.
‘Jay?’ Dad says. ‘Who’s Jay?’
‘He’s … an old friend of Akash’s,’ Fi says, looking back at me.
I nod, encouraging her to go on. I’m feeling a huge surge of love for Fi; she promised me she’d find out what he knows and she has.
She breathes in deeply. ‘Anyway, I’ve been speaking to him and trying to find out more details. He’s finally admitted that he was with Akash when it happened.’
She looks down at her notes. ‘I’m sorry, I … I don’t want to forget anything …’ Her hand’s shaking a bit. She swallows and looks up at me again.
‘I thought … I thought it would be good for us all to get some closure. Especially you, Neens. And I felt so guilty about the fight … Anyway … We all needed to know the truth about whether he –’ her voice is shaking – ‘was pushed. Or maybe even jumped.’ She looks at me with her big, kind eyes. ‘I know you worry about that, Neens.’ She’s staring at me, but I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling, or if I even want to hear what she’s going to say. ‘The report being inconclusive,’ she continues, ‘I found it so confusing and upsetting. I wanted them to investigate further, like we all did. Anyway … Jay – he says they were both messing around, balancing along the wall of the bridge. They’d been drinking a lot. But it was an accident.’ Fi bursts into tears now. ‘He slipped. He didn’t jump.’
Mum and Dad begin to cry now too. And so do I. We all cry for what feels like a very long time.
Fi takes a deep breath and wipes her cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘For everything. Neena … if I just helped her live her life … I could maybe make everything better. But I … I can see now that I wasn’t helping. I’m sorry, Neens.’
I go over to Fi and hug her. ‘But you did help,’ I say through my tears. ‘You’ve been a really good friend.’
‘I don’t know about that, Neens,’ Fi says.
‘You really have,’ I say, hugging her harder.
We all sit in silence for a while, until Fi gets up to leave. I see her out.
‘Wait,’ Mum says, and we turn back round to face Mum and Dad. They’re clutching each other’s hands really tightly.
‘Thank you, Fiona,’ Dad says, and Mum nods too, crying again.
At the front door, I step out with Fi, shutting it behind me so that I can say goodbye to her properly.
‘Thanks for getting that out of Jay. Was it … OK?’ I ask, thinking about that day in his room. I’ve made some bad choices over the past year, and I know that Fi has too, but I really hope that isn’t one of them for her.
She shrugs. ‘Yeah. I don’t think he would’ve told me, but I accidently ran into his mum at his house and I explained the situation. She literally held him by the ear until he told me what happened!’
We both laugh at the image. Fi hugs me tight. When I let go, I look her in the eyes. ‘Akash asked me to go to your party that night,’ I say. ‘If I’d been with him, I
could’ve … stopped him falling.’ My chest feels like a brick is crushing it as I stare at Fi.
She looks at me hard. ‘Jay couldn’t stop him,’ she says firmly. ‘No one could.’
I concentrate on breathing.
‘You know that really, don’t you, Neens?’
‘I … I think so.’
She takes my hand and squeezes it until my chest loosens and I can breathe properly again. ‘You know that really,’ she repeats. I nod. I know she’s right. Just like Laura said. It’s not my fault. I couldn’t have stopped it. It’s not Fi’s fault either.
‘OK?’ Fi asks.
I nod. ‘OK.’
‘Listen, I … I’ve also got a confession. I’m so sorry for flirting with Josh,’ she says. ‘But it never meant anything. And it was always one-sided – I don’t think he even noticed!’
‘What?’ I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘I thought I’d imagined all that?’
She shakes her head. ‘I would never have actually done anything. I promise. But I think my therapist will probably have something to say about it …’
I take a minute to let it all sink in. It’s actually a relief to know I didn’t make it all up. I knew it in my gut, or at least I thought I did.
‘Hang on!’ I say. ‘Therapist?’
Fi sighs. ‘I should’ve been honest with you about that too. I’ve been seeing one ever since Akash died. I guess I haven’t been dealing with it all too well myself … I’m sorry. I really do care about you. I hope you know that. You’re amazing. And brave and strong. If you can forgive me, I’d like to be here for you now. Or at least try …’
I smile at Fi. ‘I’d like that,’ I tell her.
‘What are you doing Friday night?’ she asks.
‘Fi, I’m not, I won’t be …’
‘No, no, no more parties!’ she says. ‘Not for me either! I think I was trying to escape things too … But how about the cinema? We can catch up over dinner first?’
I nod. ‘That sounds really wonderful.’
Fi looks relieved. Then she looks down at the ground. ‘It was really scary seeing you like that, Neens. I thought … I thought I was going to lose you too. Look after yourself, OK? And if you ever want to talk …’ She looks up now. ‘They said you might not remember things?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, feeling just a bit brighter. ‘Who are you again?’
We laugh, and it feels like the old us. But better. Truer.
It’s a week later. Saturday morning. Almost 10 a.m. I’m waiting for another session with Laura, and Mum and Dad have gone to the hospital to see Raj. I sit on my bed, staring at my phone. I’m dying to message Josh, but instead I bury my mobile in the bedside drawer. We haven’t talked much since last week’s conversation and it keeps playing on my mind.
I wonder if Josh was right, a bit? Did the pressure of all the lying contribute to making me ill? With everything else of course.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway interrupts my thoughts. The doorbell rings and I walk out into the hallway to answer it.
‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’ Laura says, shrugging off her leather jacket as she steps through the door. Her black hair is tied up in a bun today and she’s wearing all white – white skinny trousers, white blouse and white sandals. She looks as elegant as a ballerina. Her eyes shimmer.
‘Of course,’ I say, still a bit distracted, thinking about Josh.
The kettle boils while Laura pulls out her notes and places them neatly on the dining table. I make two cups of tea and pass one to her as I sit down opposite.
‘You star!’ she says, pulling the mug towards her and taking a couple of sips. She glances at her notes. ‘How are you feeling today?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I tell her honestly. ‘I feel … worn out.’
Laura nods sympathetically. ‘Counselling can be quite emotionally draining at first; make sure you get plenty of rest.’
I look into my mug. I do want to rest, but I can’t stop thinking about Josh. I just want things back to normal – that’s what Josh said to me last week. But were things ever normal for us? For me?
‘I’d like to talk about when your anxiety started,’ Laura says.
I nod. ‘I mean, I was an anxious kid. But my brother helped keep it at bay, when I was little. And then he left, and I felt anxious all the time.’
Laura tilts her head. ‘And was there anything you were particularly anxious about, leading up to your episode?’
‘I’m not sure …’ I say, fibbing a bit. ‘I’ve been trying to figure it all out. Why does this sort of thing happen?’
Laura breathes in slowly. ‘Well, it can happen for a number of reasons. Stress. Environmental or biological factors. Sometimes drugs … Often the exact cause isn’t clear, and it can be a combination of factors.’
I nod. It makes sense for it to be more than one thing. That’s life, isn’t it? Hits you from all directions at once.
‘Do I … maybe have an anxiety disorder?’ I ask.
‘At the moment, we’re just trying to understand why it might have happened – to stop it happening again. Let’s not put any labels on anything. OK?’
‘Oh God. Will it happen again?’
‘Hopefully not,’ Laura says firmly. ‘It can – it’s important you take your medication and use the help offered. But you’re on the right track, Neena. This could absolutely be a one-off.’ She smiles at me.
‘But it could happen again?’
‘Well, yes. Some people have multiple episodes. They might need medication for life. Every single person’s experience of psychosis is different, just like everyone’s experience of anxiety is different. But just try not to worry, Neena. OK?’
It’s a lot to take in, but I nod.
‘So, we were talking about things you were particularly anxious about in the lead-up to you getting ill …’
I swallow. ‘You asked me the other day if there’s anyone who understands me like Akash did. Well, there’s this guy. Josh. He does. Sometimes I even think he understands me better than I understand myself.’
Laura smiles. ‘That sounds really special.’
‘It is. But I’ve never been allowed a boyfriend so I’ve kept it hidden. And I think it’s having an impact on us. And maybe on me … on my mental health. Or maybe my mental health has had an impact on us. I don’t know, it’s confusing …’
‘That sounds hard. Is that pressure … cultural?’ Laura asks carefully, and writes something down on her notepad.
I nod. ‘I feel guilty a lot of the time. And torn. Like I can’t just be myself without upsetting someone. I want to be in a relationship with him, but I also don’t want to disappoint my parents. But then if I just do what they say all the time, it’s like my feelings don’t matter. I don’t matter.’ I shake my head. I’m not sure I’m making much sense. ‘In many ways, they’re really modern.’ I laugh a bit. I hate that word ‘modern’. It seems old-fashioned in itself. ‘They don’t make me wear salwar kameez at home, like some people I know,’ I try to explain. ‘But they have all these rules – they’ve been really overbearing since Akash. And all these cultural restrictions are just too much for me!’
Laura looks thoughtful. ‘It sounds like there are some real pressures there,’ she says. ‘And we’ll look at how you can address them. But there’s also one other thing to consider.’ She pulls out a ‘Thought Challenging Chart’ from her clipboard. She introduced them to me before she left the other day. ‘Have you ever separated what is actual cultural pressure from your parents, and what is perceived? You might be projecting some of your own fears of letting them down on to them, and you could be viewing their rules as tight cultural boundaries when actually they’re not about that.’
I cross my arms. ‘Hmm … I don’t know.’ It’s always felt pretty clear to me.
Laura pushes the Thought Challenging Chart towards me. ‘You mentioned they became extra strict when Akash died. Could it be just about that? Their need to keep you safe? I
suspect parents from any culture might do the same in response to a tragedy.’
As I look at the chart, I remember the whole incident with them wanting to take me on holiday to Pakistan. How I jumped to conclusions. And I remember Mum saying so many times, and Dad too, that they’re just scared, that’s all. Now it’s like I’m hearing them for the very first time, and I finally understand.
‘Will you give it a go?’ Laura asks. ‘It can really help challenge anxieties.’
‘Yes,’ I say, realizing that I’ve been running to Josh each time I’ve been anxious, relying on him to make me feel better, just like Akash used to. Now, it’s time for me to rely on myself.
‘Great,’ says Laura. ‘Let’s try it now.’ She smiles, but my cheeks are wet.
I’m understanding that Josh has been my safe space. He’s been the only thing that calms me down for a while now. But that’s not healthy. Not in the long term. Not for me but also not for him. For us.
Mum opens my curtains when she comes to give me my medicine the next morning, but I’m already awake. Light streams in, stinging my eyes. She kneels down beside my bed. She’s wearing all black.
I look into her eyes. ‘A whole year …’ I say. She nods and strokes my cheek.
‘What now?’ I ask.
Mum takes a deep breath. ‘Now we celebrate his life. We live, like he would want us to.’ She tries to smile.
I put my arms round Mum and we hold each other tight.
After a while, Mum stands up. ‘We’re in the kitchen; come when you’re ready.’
I nod but I don’t move. After she’s gone, I stare out of the window, at the bright sky and the drifting clouds. The sun slowly brightens. It’s fierce on my face. I turn away from it and climb out of bed.
I want to be with Mum and Dad; I feel suddenly desperate for them.
They both look up at me when I walk into the kitchen. On the table is a cake big enough to feed five families. Three tiers of sponge with thick, frosty icing.
‘What’s this?’ I ask, sitting down.
‘I couldn’t sleep last night,’ Mum says. ‘And he deserved a celebration. We never properly celebrated him. The wake … it was so grim … and you …’ She glances at me. ‘You weren’t even there.’
The Million Pieces of Neena Gill Page 22