“You aren’t being. I’m going to go out, I just need it to be in my own time rather than for something particular. There is more pressure that way.”
“That’s what your aunt said,” he frowned, “I’m sorry for not realising that.”
“Ez, you don’t need to apologise for anything. Booking a table for dinner was a nice thing to do and under normal circumstances it would have been the perfect thing to do to celebrate my birthday.”
“Well. There is always next year?” he smiled, “and I have got your cake.” He pointed to the sideboard in the kitchen and there sat a home made Victoria sponge cake.
“That looks delicious.”
“I asked her to make it because nothing I could put together would look like that or be remotely edible.”
“I would have eaten it if you made it.”
“You’re sweet,” he said fondly and kissed me softly on the lips. “You get back to painting, I would like to frame that and have it on the wall when it is finished.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The view from our home. I love it.”
SEASONS
A year is a beautiful thing. So much can come and go and the seasons roll through without a care to what is happening. I loved how the summer faded into a vibrant autumn, which in turn transformed into a particularly frosty winter. Spring is the time for new life, so it seemed appropriate that was when dad wrote to say that Joe was expecting a baby. Shortly after that Daniel also announced that him and Carrie were expecting their first child and I felt like I should have some big news too, but all I had was that I had found myself a job. It was nothing like I had expected when I thought about what I would be doing last year. I was hoping to be in London, mingling with the art world and creating beautiful work. Instead I had got a job waiting tables at the local cafe. I really loved it though. To start with I was a trembling mess, feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders as I collected orders for coffee and lunch but as time went on I found that I was feeling more and more like my old self. I was happy to see new faces in the cafe, eager tourists arriving for the summer months, wanting to explore every aspect of the town. I even grew to know the regulars, and a part of me really liked seeing the new students who had joined the college come in to sketch in their spare time. My French had come along leaps and bounds too - to the point where Ezra and I would casually converse in the language, which I think he appreciated. It of course served me well in the cafe, and I no longer felt like I was on the outside of conversations. On the outside, I was thriving. Finally blooming again having been in hibernation for so long. I had learned to hide the truth of what was going on in my head very well. I still wrote letters to Henry, not as much as I used to, but sometimes I couldn’t stop the words pouring out and I had to get them on a piece of paper. My art folder had eventually become to full to keep stashing them there so I had starting taking them to work and disposing them at the end of the day with the rest of the rubbish. I felt that in some way I was betraying Ezra. I never told him about the crippling panic attacks that still came out of nowhere and rendered me useless for hours after. Luckily, my boss was sympathetic and was now the only one who knew about the panic attacks, neither us could say what triggered them though. I used to think it was any American accent I heard that came from a young male, then I thought it could be anyone who looked a little like Henry. It could have been a mixture of a lot of things.
Ezra was the perfect human he had always been. We had grown accustomed to our life together very quickly after I had started to get better and every day I thanked him for staying by my side through it all. He still sometimes asked if I wanted to talk about what happened, but I always said no, bringing up the past never helped. I had tried to explain to him that Buddhist theory about the arrows but he didn’t seem to understand what I was trying to get at. Which was good because he would never understand about that second arrow that I was still allowing to penetrate me every single day. I woke up some nights and looked at Ezra sleeping soundly beside me, only to look over the edge of the bed and see Henry standing at the bottom of the ladder looking up at me. I would stare back down at him, silently willing him to go away and let me be with Ezra in peace. He never moved a muscle, just stared up at me with vacant eyes and an eerie smile. I put it down to nightmares until I would see him at work, sitting at a table, or on my walk home riding a bike through the square. I couldn’t admit that they were hallucinations because people would think I was crazy. Or they might stop me taking my medication that I now needed more than food some days.
I knew that I hadn’t slipped into a bipolar episode, because the world was still turning around me and I didn’t have those intense feelings that came with them. What I was feeling was just normal to me now, a new normal that I had grown to live with. They say that people can get used to anything if you live with it long enough and I guess my mental state was no different. I didn’t care for art anymore, not in the way I had done. I threw away all of my Schiele prints one afternoon when I found that they no longer resonated with me. It was not a case of simply growing out of it either. For as long as I can remember art was my passion. It had been taken from me. Henry pulled it out of my hands and never gave it back. I hoped that I might one day wake up and the love would be there again, I would go out and draw everything I could and study all of the artists that I could fit into my head. My mind felt so full though, so full of other haunting things and I knew that if I tried to cram anything else in there it would all become far too much.
I was working when everything that I had been hiding and working hard to improve in my life all came crashing down at once. I was serving a table and I heard the name Henry muttered amongst a group of customers and that was it. Hearing his name out loud unleashed something and it took over me, bringing the tray of drinks I was carrying clattering to the ground. I don’t remember much after that, and in a way I am glad that my mind had decided to erase that for me. I remember waking up in the hospital, everything seeming dim and cold, and I noticed that the lights had been deliberately softened as out of the window to the room the corridors seemed bright. Ezra sat beside me and his head perked up when he realised that I was awake and he let out a relieved sob then started to cry. I reached for his hand but he pulled it away from me and leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, blinking tears away from his eyes.
“How did it come to this?” he asked but I don’t think he was actually directing the question to me. I wanted to ask the same question, I didn’t know that I was spiraling until I literally couldn’t stand anymore.
“How long have I been in here?” I asked, knowing that was what people were meant to ask when they had lost a space of time.
“Only a few hours. Your boss called me and said you had been taken away in an ambulance,” Ezra explained, “you had a panic attack.”
“Is that something that is really worth getting an ambulance for though?”
“I don’t know but I’m glad he did.” He stopped looking at the ceiling and turned his attention to me. “He said you were screaming about Henry.”
“Henry,” I repeated the name even though the syllables on my lips made me feel nauseous.
“Yes. And you told the doctor that you had seen Henry in our apartment, following you around places. The doctor says you are hallucinating.”
“Right,” I said and could hear the anger in my tone but I couldn’t get rid of it.
“Apparently, they can be a side effect of the medication you used to be on. But I said that you weren’t on that stuff anymore. But you are. Aren’t you?”
“Why are you asking me that when you already know the answer?” I asked and I could no longer read the expression on his face.
“I didn’t believe them when they said the amount of drugs that were in your system. I said it must be some mistake. But I think part of me knew you were still taking them.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything Ezra?”
“Because you told me that you weren’t
. I didn’t want to believe that you would lie to me about something like this. Or that you would even lie to me at all.” I could hear the hurt and betrayal in his voice and I wished that neither of us was in this position.
“I didn’t mean to lie to you.”
“But you did. And now you are in hospital. They want to keep you in here did you know that? They want to put you in a psychiatric unit.”
“Well, they can’t keep me here,” I said, not wanting to be away from home in a place like that. “I want to be home with you.”
“I don’t think that coming home against their advice is wise,” he said and I could see that it was killing him to talk to me like that. “Stay here for a couple of days, let them sort out your medication. Then come back. And we really can get you better.”
“So you’re not going to leave me then?”
“Charlie,” he snapped and his sudden change in tone startled me. “I meant it when I said I love you and I will be there for you no matter what. I am not going to walk out on you.” His voice was angry but the words he spoke were not and I knew how conflicted he must have felt.
“I’m sorry.” I was half expecting him to tell me not to apologise like he usually did when I said sorry but he didn’t. He really did deserve an apology this time.
“You told me that Henry was a friend of yours.”
“He was.”
“Was he the one who attacked you?”
“Yes.”
“Look. Just stay in here a couple of days and let them help you. For me.”
“Okay.” It really was the last thing I wanted to do but I couldn’t upset Ezra more than I already had. A couple of days in hospital could fix everything and I would end up going home better than ever. I had to have some hope that there was a light at the end of this seemingly never ending tunnel, and maybe I had finally come across a way to find it.
I was plagued with calls from my dad while I completed my stay and it didn’t matter how much I told him that I needed some space to get myself back together again, he wouldn’t listen. I had asked Ezra not to visit me for two days so I could distance myself from everything and really focus on what I was being told and then be able to apply it to my life when I got home. He seemed reluctant to leave me in there but eventually agreed. It was two days. In the grand scheme of things it was nothing and I would be back with him before we both knew it. The doctors wanted to get me off of the diazepam, something that I was adamantly against, but they insisted that I had been on them for far too long as it is. I knew that everyone around me was doing their best to help me, but I felt like they were actually all against me in some way. By deciding to wean me off of my medication they were taking away something that I knew was the only thing that got me from one day to the next. I was scared that Ezra wouldn’t cope if I became a recluse again and that my family would grow tired of my problems. I felt like such a burden that I couldn’t see how anything could work out for the best.
It was Daniel who called and suggested that I go into some rehab centre that was back in England. I had laughed at him, I was not a drug addict and I was not in any danger to myself, or others for that matter. I felt insulted that he even thought that way and it was hard to control my anger with him.
“Do you think that I am some kind of druggie?” I asked, sounding as angry as I felt.
“Not in the way you are implying. But you have been taking medication secretly.” His voice sounded distant on the phone and I hoped that the connection would cut out so I didn’t have to speak with him anymore.
“It is prescribed medication!” I snapped at him and I heard his sigh despite the poor reception.
“The doctors say the amount in your blood stream exceeded a prescribed amount.”
“Oh, the doctors said that did they?” I rolled my eyes as I spoke.
“Yes, they did. Look, you are my little brother I don’t want to see you destroying yourself. I need you to be healthy, you’re going to be an uncle soon.” His voice had suddenly taken a sad tone but I wasn’t in the mood for it.
“I am healthy Daniel,” I protested, “it’s not like I am going to hurt myself is it? You think that I would do that?”
“Not intentionally.” The words hung in the air between us, crossing boarders and seas and I hated that a part of him really thought I could do that to myself.
“I’m not Daniel.”
“I don’t want to get a phone call saying that you have killed yourself Charlie.”
“Wow,” I laughed, “everyone seems to think that they know what is going on with me. But none of you do.”
“That’s because you won’t talk to us! We want to know. We all want you to tell us what is going on.”
“Just shut up!” I shouted and it caught the attention of the nurse who had been lingering in the hallway outside my room and she peered inside. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t need to talk to any of you.” I hung up the phone that
was connected beside my bed and looked back at the nurse.
“You really don’t want to be getting yourself upset,” she frowned and I closed my eyes to take a breath before responding.
“I am not getting myself upset. Other people are upsetting me.”
“You are going to have mood swings, with the medication being lowered, but you will start to feel better.” Those words. ‘You will start to feel better’ had been said to be numerous times since I had been in the hospital and I felt like they were expecting me to get it tattooed when I left as some sort of motivational reminder to see each day. What was better now? I could think back to the year before, when Ez first started working for us, and even before that. I guess that was me being better. I felt like I had aged a decade in the last year and not in a good way, I felt a bitterness that would not leave and in a way I had grown so accustomed to it I didn’t want it to go anymore. Rehab seemed excessive. I had this vision in my mind of what it would be like. Walking around singing positive songs and talking about how we were getting on without the drugs or alcohol or whatever someone else was addicted to. I knew that was probably not the reality of it but it hardly sparked any urges for me to go. In England as well. What was he thinking? Traveling was at the very bottom of things I wanted to do and I needed to be home, Ezra wouldn’t cope without me. At least, I didn’t think he could.
I had heard about interventions before, had seen them in films and on the TV and even read some books that featured them. I imagined them to be big things, full of friends and family who held your hand as they told you that thing’s needed to chance. My intervention was just Ezra, in our apartment, the day I was let home from the hospital. I knew that we were going to have some kind of serious talk, because it was needed, but I didn’t imagine it to go the way it did.
“I’m glad you are home,” he smiled at me and sat me down on the sofa. “You’ve had a few cards from the people you work with, and your aunt dropped round some food for us. Andre brought you a plant too,” he said and gestured to a small green plant that sat on my desk.
“That’s really sweet of him,” I smiled, “you have to help me keep it alive though, I don’t have a good track record with plants.”
“I will look after it for you,” Ezra said and then gave me a sad smile. “Especially while you are in England.”
“In England?” I asked in confusion, “what do you mean?”
“Your dad, he spoke to me and your aunt, about this rehab and-”
“Woah,” I said and stood up. “I hope you are not about to suggest that I go there Ezra.”
“I am,” he nodded and watched as I started to pace back and forth. “I think you need to be somewhere where you can really have the time you need to recover. You never had the right time to deal with that attack, we all moved forward and assumed you were keeping up.”
“But I am keeping up.” I could hear my voice starting to wobble and I hated that I felt like I was about to cry.
“You know you are not.”
“So, what, you want
me to go to England? You want me to move out?”
“Charlie that is not what I am saying at all,” he said sadly, “I want you to get better.”
“Away from you.”
“Only because there is nothing suitable near here and it would be good for you to be somewhere that your family can easily access.”
“And you will stay here?”
“I have to Charlie. I can’t just go to England. We have the apartment and my job.” Ezra looked frustrated as we spoke and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was upset with me or just overwhelmed with the whole situation.
“So your job and this apartment is more important than me?”
“No! But I need to maintain our life here for when you come back. When you are better.” I felt the tears prickling at the edges of my eyes as I looked at him and he stood up and pulled me into his arms, close to his chest. He held the back of my head with one hand and kept the other around my waist as I let my tears fall and made small sobbing sounds as he held me.
“Don’t make me go,” I begged and I could hear his heart pounding and I was scared of what he was going to say next.
“I can’t be with you if that means you staying here and not getting better.” It sounded like his voice was shaking as he spoke to me and it broke my heart hearing him like that.
“What are you saying?” I whispered.
“If you don’t want to go there because you want to stay with me then I can’t be in this relationship with you. I know that is manipulative of me, but I can’t see someone I love continue to hurt themselves like you have just because you want to be with me.”
“I don’t want to go there because I don’t think I need to go there.” I didn’t want to admit that Ezra really was part of the reason as well.
“But, you do.” He looked at me and he had tears in his eyes as well.
“Please don’t cry,” I said softly, “please.”
“This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Roots Before Branches Page 14