Room Empty

by Sarah Mussi

  There have been other tragic events at Daisy Bank. They won’t struggle to fill her place. But it may mean they’ll keep their fees competitive. I don’t think that’s why Carmen did it, obviously, but that would have pleased her. It’s funny how we think so often of pleasing the dead. When Carmen was alive nobody tried to please her. She was always the one being agreeable. Her buddy was a total jerk.

  Though to be fair, the staff at the centre are always pleasant. They talk to you in grave, kindly voices as if you’ve been naughty but are forgiven. When you complain about the way life dealt you a shit hand, they always have a soothing answer.

  When you tell them that the care system doesn’t care and should be renamed, they say, ‘But they arranged for you to come here, and that was a very caring thing to do, wasn’t it?’

  And that shuts you up, because if you say ‘no’ then it means this place is shit, and if you say ‘yes’ then it means you were mistaken about how uncared for you felt.

  And that is a very pleasant little dilemma.

  For someone who is an Alien.

  That evening we meet in Carmen’s room. It’s quite empty. All her stuff is gone. But it still smells of her. That’s strange: how your smell doesn’t die with you.

  Fletcher is late. He bangs into the room and he’s sweating.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘It’s Lee.’

  That’s Lee Darren Grant. Fletcher’s recovering junkie roommate, who is not trying to recover.

  I don’t say anything.

  ‘He wants me to cover for him again at supper.’

  ‘And will you?’

  He shrugs. ‘No choice.’

  ‘Everyone has a choice. That’s what all this is about.’

  ‘Yeah. Like you’ve ever lived on the streets.’

  ‘But we aren’t on the streets.’

  ‘Once you’ve lived there, it’s not so clear-cut.’

  ‘Well, that’s your choice.’

  He sits down on the bed. His punch-throwing shoulders slump. I must try to be kinder.

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘But you should shut up.’

  Perhaps I should not try to be kinder.

  ‘Because you talk about choice, but that’s all rhetoric. You’re buying into their rhetoric.’

  ‘You should shut up yourself. You’re not helping Lee by covering for him. If he doesn’t want to get better, he shouldn’t be here. He’s using up a place that could be sponsoring someone else.’

  ‘It’s always so goddamn black and white with you, isn’t it?’

  Actually, I should shut up. I can see he’s upset, and I’m feeling faint. And I know he needs a real sparring partner. But I can’t. I want to bait him. I imagine breaking off a tiny crust of quiche and rolling its crumbliness between my fingers. There’s something about an argument that makes me come alive. The Alien stirs, opens a score of eyes, sends out long antennae.

  ‘We’re really lucky to be here, to have a state-funded place at a lovely centre like this.’ I know just how to wind him up.

  He stiffens. ‘Lucky?’

  ‘Yes, lucky! For every state-funded kid here, there are a thousand out there that didn’t make it.’

  I put on a subtle, saccharin voice. I work in the words ‘state funded’ as often as possible. It tells him he is nothing. He is nobody. He has a failed family. He’s poor. He’s an addict. He’s broken. He must take handouts. He must do what they say. If he doesn’t, they will sling him out. And he’ll have to go back to being scum. He must say, ‘My name is Fletcher. I am an addict. I am a broken creature who will never recover.’ Over and over. To the very establishment that broke him. He must be grateful to them, grateful that they are willing to offer him a repair job.

  You see, I haven’t forgiven him for calling me ‘ugly’.

  ‘Oh, Dani,’ he says.

  He’s a shell now, fragile as a dried sea urchin. His shoulders implode. Good.

  ‘Carmen is dead,’ he says. His eyes pass through me, pass through the walls of Daisy Bank Rehab and out over Berkshire. ‘She was the only one who made sense.’ His voice hollows out. ‘I need help. I’m not getting better. I’m barely staying clean. I’m scared. I need you to be there for me.’

  And I melt. The Alien dissolves into a mess of gooey green sludge. All its eyes blink out. Its antennae snap.

  And I pull the plug.

  ‘OK,’ I whisper. Because that is the thing about being real. It has a power beyond anything in the universe and all Aliens shun it.

  ‘You’ll help me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘To beat this thing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All the way?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Whatever I do – even if it’s shit?’

  ‘Yes.’

  And I will. I will. That’s all. I will, and he will be my own Fletcher. And I will be there for him, even unto death.

  Fletcher sighs like at last, after seventeen years, he can breathe. I reach out my hand. He takes it. He kisses the back of my fingers. He kisses them like he’s a knight in shining armour pledging his life. I know what he’s saying. His kiss tells me that he will be there for me too. All the way. Through the dragon fires of hell.

  A shiver runs up my arm. ‘But if I’m going to do that, I’ll need to recover a bit,’ I say. ‘I’m not really very strong. Not up to War of the Worlds yet.’ I display my non-existent biceps. I’m so hungry. ‘I lied about the four ounces, you know.’

  ‘Then you must recover,’ he says.

  ‘OK.’

  No one drowns.

  He smiles.

  It’s too bright in here. Suddenly. In Carmen’s room. Some junkie feeling, like her spirit is smiling. I don’t know how to survive in a solar system without Aliens. It feels too real. I’ve grown used to the cold of Outer Space. I’m not ready yet. Not ready for any kind of life form.

  ‘This is way too much reality.’

  I need fakery for just a teeny bit longer.

  Fletcher feels it too. He laughs, straightens up.

  ‘You’re goddamn right,’ he says.

  Step Two

  Restore Us to Sanity

  8

  You are not allowed to think I am in love with Fletcher. Once you have got the Thinness in your life, you don’t need love any more. I’m not sure what real love is anyway. I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered it.

  Unlike conditional love.

  That is the kind of love you can trust.

  It has a glorious elegance all of its own.

  Just three easy-to-follow stages.

  Stage One: I’ve got something you want; I’m prepared to swap it for your attention.

  Really simple concept.

  Warning: it can be tricky sometimes. For beginners. You have to decide: is that one smile, that word of encouragement, that feeling that somebody is on your side actually worth it?

  Stage Two: don’t fool yourself you have found the real thing.

  The real thing doesn’t exist.

  Despite all the efforts of the Disney World Reality Channel to convince us otherwise. You know the one.

  ‘Some Day My Prince Will Come.’

  ‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me.’

  ‘Once Upon a Dream.’

  ‘You’ll Be in My Heart.’

  ‘True Love’s Kiss.’

  ‘Part of Your World.’

  Stage Three: a deal is a deal, and you can expect to get paid on it, if you deliver.

  I gave Fletcher my word that I would be there for him. So at Circle Time, I send my Alien back to Outer Space and zap Fletcher with an ultrasonic beam. He direct-messages me back: a small smile. His smile says: I am glad you remembered we have a deal.

  Everyone is at Circle Time. There are thirteen of us plus the counsellor. There’s one empty chair.

  ‘The empty chair is there so that you can imagine Carmen sitting in it,’ says Judith, like we are not addicts, just thick.

  Everybody obligingly looks at the empty chair.
I can’t imagine Carmen sitting there. That’s not because I can’t imagine her. I can see her ripped tights and dangling legs very clearly. It’s because there is absolutely no need to imagine her there; she’s supposed to have left, so she wouldn’t be in Circle Time. The fact that she chose to hang herself with an old scarf is irrelevant – she still wouldn’t have been there.

  ‘I want you all to take a moment to say goodbye to her in your own way,’ says Judith.

  Somewhere in Outer Space I can hear the Alien howling with laughter.

  ‘We said goodbye to Carmen yesterday, at the funeral,’ says Iggy. He’s being pointedly obtuse. I like his logic. He’s probably going to crack a joke working in the words ‘dead right’.

  And Carmen didn’t say goodbye to us. Carmen didn’t think we were worth saying goodbye to, so how does that compute?

  ‘That is true,’ says Judith in her I-am-a-counsellor-who-must-speak-in-a-very-smooth-and-mellow-rich-tone-in-case-you-have-guessed-I-am-better-than-you voice. ‘But she was our special friend, so we must say goodbye to her in our special forum. Our Circle Time.’

  Everybody looks at her blankly.

  ‘Shall I say goodbye for us?’ asks Judith.

  She’s noticed her closure ceremony is not going to plan. Sometimes I wish she would just say that. I wish she would say, ‘This is sheer bollocks. I thought it was a good idea but it isn’t and I’m winging it, so what shall we do instead?’

  But when you’re a Daisy Bank Rehab counsellor you can’t do that.

  I want to know what the point of recovering is if it turns you into a hypocrite?

  If Carmen was here, sitting in that chair, she would say something just right, something that would fill the gap and make everyone relax without being too phoney.

  The Alien farts.

  I realize I’m doing Toxic Thinking.

  I’m wishing Carmen were here to help us.

  It’s a kind of thinking that only an addict can do really well. Imagining that the very person who caused the problem is the same one who can solve it. It’s all part of your addiction.

  The fart was called Long And Strong.

  If you think like that, you’re in deep shit.

  You’re like a worm caught on a hook, wriggling around, hoping that the person who stuck the barb into you will remove it.

  I know – mad.

  Plus Carmen was a classic people-pleaser and everyone knows that codependency is a slimy, cowardly thing despite all the good press it gets.

  ‘When you’ve imagined Carmen sitting on the chair, you can decide what you would like to say to her so that we can let her go,’ says Judith.

  The Alien has a whole bouquet of farts.

  Long And Strong.

  Silent But Violent.

  Loud And Proud.

  He’s trying to get my attention.

  I know what’s coming next. We’ll have to go around the circle and everybody will have to say something fatuous and embarrassing to an empty chair.

  He also has one called Hell Of A Smell, which is guaranteed to asphyxiate.

  ‘When you’re ready, we can start,’ says Judith.

  This is probably going to take for ever. I decide to get my turn over and done with, so that I can zone out until we do something less dreadful.

  ‘My name is Dani. I am anorexic,’ I say.

  Everyone murmurs, ‘Hi, Dani.’

  ‘OK, Carmen,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry you had to kill yourself. I’m sorry you didn’t love any of us enough to stick around. I’m sorry you thought killing yourself was a nice way to say goodbye to us. I suppose you wanted to show us, however hard we try, there is no hope. I’m pretty angry about that. I tried to be your friend. I thought you cared. I thought you actually liked me. Obviously you didn’t. That makes you exceptionally hateful and an emotional liar. Worse – because you took advantage of me. It makes you someone I could never have been true friends with. And that makes me very sad. At least, I’m trying to realize that it makes me very sad. What I actually feel is very, very angry. So you can rot in hell for all I care. Because that was a very mean thing to do.’

  ‘Thank you, Dani,’ everyone murmurs.

  That is the best I can do. Now I can zone out and add up jumping jacks and deduct calories. At least I’ve been honest. Unlike Judith. Today I have decided to be as real as possible, otherwise the Alien will get his way and win me over with well-timed farts. I have a deal with Fletcher. I’ve felt the power of connection. Today I am not happy to play with the Alien in Outer Space.

  The circle goes quiet.

  Who will be the next to speak?

  The tension is quite exciting. I don’t zone out straight away.

  It’s like a game – if you don’t get in quickly, somebody else may say what you want to, and then you’ll look like an idiot if you just say the same thing. You’re supposed to be reflecting deeply upon your feelings – that’s if you have any feelings – and apparently you can’t have the same feelings as somebody else.

  However, experts now say that addiction is linked to Narcissistic Personality Disorder. That means addicts probably have no feelings they’re able to acknowledge anyway. Everybody knows narcs think they’re totally perfect. So that’s really funny because it means all of Judith’s theories about expressing repressed and difficult feelings are doomed. But I don’t mention this to her. Therapists always have to feel they know better than you even though they don’t. We have to be kind to them because they need to feel like they’re doing a good job.

  9

  Of course it’s Lee who breaks the silence. It would be. Only someone like Lee could make a comment that makes him the laughing stock of the entire circle and lets everybody else relax at the same time.

  ‘Rest in peace, bruv, Carmen,’ he says. ‘Peace an’ love an’ rock an’ roll foreva in da higher place. You will be missed. And always in our hearts. Oh yeah.’

  Lee is an encyclopedia of insincere stock phrases.

  He looks around the circle and grins at anyone whose eye he can catch. You’re not supposed to look around the circle. You’re not supposed to engage in crosstalk. Crosstalk is when you communicate directly with others in Circle Time. That’s talking, farting or eye language. Judith says it impedes flow, makes us self-aware, stops us from genuine reflection.

  No crosstalk is one of the first and most basic rules of Circle Time.

  We are ecstatic Lee is engaging in it. That’s because my comment has made everyone feel uncomfortable. And that is what Tony calls a double bind.

  A double bind is an emotionally distressing dilemma in which you can receive two or more conflicting messages, and one message negates the other.

  You could say life is a good example of a double bind.

  Here we’re told to say whatever comes into our minds, to access our deep feelings, to give them voice. Tony says that is what heals.

  But the subtext to that is you should not give voice to anything that makes others feel uncomfortable.

  I can’t be sure of that.

  Because subtext is always unspoken.

  The Alien has dressed up like a Victorian explorer and is holding up a placard which reads: I AM OFF TO THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON. COMING?

  But that’s the nature of a double bind. It relies on subtext.

  I think that’s why Judith lets Lee get away with crosstalk. That’s why nobody minds his scripted, banal comments. Everyone loves a loser.

  The tension becomes unbearable. Who will be the next sucker to break it?

  As long as Lee carries on losing, we can all feel we’re winning.

  It’s Jennifer.

  ‘My name is Jennifer. I am an addict.’ I should have guessed she’d crack first. Jennifer has a lopsided haircut that constantly startles me.

  ‘Hi, Jennifer,’ everyone murmurs.

  ‘We will miss you, Carmen.’

  The group exhales.

  ‘That’s all,’ says Jennifer. There’s a catch in her throat. Like she’s carrie
d away with her own sentiment.

  ‘Thank you, Jennifer,’ everyone choruses.

  She’s such a big fraudster. She’s just better at it than Lee. I don’t think she will miss Carmen at all. She never sat down by Carmen at lunchtime, even if she wasn’t point-scoring. She never seemed too bothered about hanging out with Carmen when she was alive. I don’t think she would have said that if Carmen had just gone home to her family alive and well.

  I want to break all the rules and turn on her and say, ‘You’re a vile, repulsive, bogus, sham dollop of shit. You’re just thinking about your own death – that’s why you’re getting all teary.’ A sudden rage swells inside me, thick, choking, like smoke from a fire when damp leaves are thrown on it.

  I mentally throw a lot more damp leaves on it.

  Carmen was nothing to me.

  I didn’t even know her, did I? I must fight mood swings and impulsivity. If she had cared about me, she would not have hanged herself.

  Nobody else wants to say anything. So we all just sit there and waste time. Everyone is trying to look like they are deeply meditating on the nature of life and death and being hung from the backstairs with an old scarf.

  Judith saves the day. ‘I’m going to pass round a card with aphorisms on it,’ she says. ‘Please choose an aphorism to read out.’

  Judith picks up the card and reads out her best choice. ‘Gratitude is an attitude, not a platitude.’

  She passes the card to Carla.

  ‘Self-esteem is not thinking of yourself more, but thinking more by yourself,’ Carla says very prettily. She passes the card on.

  ‘Man proposes, the Higher Power disposes,’ reads out Iggy.

  It’s Jennifer’s turn.

  Underneath all those leaves, a furnace is roaring. I could beam the Alien down from the Dark Side. He could flatulate all over her with deadly digestive gases from Jupiter. We could rake off the leaves and build her a funeral pyre.

  ‘Don’t think about acting, act on thinking,’ Jennifer says.

  I catch Fletcher’s eye. His crosstalk is not cross. It’s full of conditional love. The fire dies down until it’s just a warm glow.