by Saumya Dave
“I totally feel the same way,” Natasha says. “It doesn’t matter how much progress I think I’m making . . . all it takes is one conversation with my mom and I’m back to feeling like crap again. I know she and my dad have dealt with a lot, coming to America and having no money and all. But it’s almost like I have no right to feel bad because what they went through was obviously worse.”
Brooke nods as if she agrees, even though Natasha knows from a previous session that Brooke comes from three generations of WASPs. Then again, maybe every family is messed up in some way.
“What about other members of our family?” Dr. Chan suggests. “Does anyone feel this way with people they’re related to outside their parents?”
Natasha raises her hand. “My sister and brother are great. They really are. But they make me feel crappy, too. My sister is perfect. Literally. And she doesn’t understand that not everyone can get whatever they want. She works hard for what she has, yes, but it’s like she doesn’t know any other way. She puts so much pressure on herself and then does the same for anyone else in her orbit. And my brother tries to get it. But he’s almost the opposite of her. He’s so chill that nobody would ever have an issue with him. He’s at home all summer and I know my parents find it relaxing to have him around . . . but when I was at home for even a couple of weeks, it was a total hassle.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. These two doctors know Suhani. They probably idolize her. She considers taking her words back.
But Drs. Chan and Murphy just nod, almost in sync, as Natasha continues to talk. She wonders if this type of thoughtful nod is something they were taught to do in their training.
“Siblings do define us more than we may realize. And it can be tough to reconcile our role within our families,” Dr. Chan says. “But I wonder, what’s your influence been like on them?”
“Meaning?” Natasha asks.
“You’ve talked about how they’ve affected you and your sense of self. How do you think you’ve impacted your sister and brother?”
“I’m not really sure.” Natasha bites her bottom lip. She doesn’t really ever think she’s affected Suhani or Anuj.
“Does anyone else have something they’d like to add to that? Thoughts on your impact on your family members?” Dr. Murphy looks around the room.
Chris, a sophomore at Emory who was admitted for a manic episode, clears his throat. At first glance he looks like he’s straight out of a cologne commercial: buff and broad-shouldered with a chiseled jaw. If Ifeoma or Payal saw Chris at a bar, they’d definitely think he was super hot. Chris told Natasha earlier that he’ll probably have to take a leave of absence from school since he’s in and out of the hospital so much. During this most recent episode, he tried to cut up his entire left arm with a butcher knife. His wounds are covered with gauze that he tends to pick at during group therapy.
“I feel like my family does the best they can,” he says. “It took me awhile to realize that. But the older I get, the more I see that they’re trying to figure things out, too.”
Geraldine, a woman around Suhani’s age who was diagnosed with schizophrenia two years ago, nods in agreement. Everything from her Barbadian accent to her sparkling eyes to her flawless skin reminds Natasha of Rihanna.
“My entire family was overwhelmed when I first got sick,” Geraldine says. “Some of them have cut off talking to me altogether. But some have stuck around . . . so I guess that’s better than nothing. I think a few of my family members think I’m cursed or what I have is contagious or something.”
Natasha feels a stab of guilt as she imagines how tough that must be for Geraldine. She knows that no matter what, her family would never cut off talking to her. She thinks back to how she got into an explosive fight with Mom at Anuj’s graduation party during Dad’s speech, how she got too wasted at Suhani and Zack’s wedding and threw up on the dance floor at the reception.
Tears pool in her eyes as she remembers the arguments that ensued after each of those events. Despite how angry everyone was, within days, they were hugging her and telling her it was okay. She’s put her family through a lot and they still stick by her.
She pictures Dad, giving Mom and Anuj information on depression and medications. She pictures Suhani and Zack, figuring out what to do next. Maybe they’re all on the phone together. Mom has to be calling and texting Suhani nonstop. They must be so worried about her. She hates that she’s doing this to them.
Her mind drifts to something Dr. Chan brought up yesterday, when they were meeting one-on-one. As much as Natasha thinks Mom and Suhani are tough on her, is it possible that she’s also pretty critical of them? Does she hold them to a higher bar and pick apart their behavior more than she does for Dad or Anuj or even Zack? Does she see more of them in herself than she wants to admit?
The next morning, Natasha is awake before the call for breakfast. She sits up and gazes around the dark room. She’s immediately taken aback by it. Or rather, the absence of it. There’s no weight or haziness in her head.
She brushes her teeth, takes a long shower, and changes into a clean pair of scrubs.
It often boils down to just taking one step at a time, Dr. Chan said the other day. Getting out of bed. Making yourself get dressed. Sometimes you have to act first and the motivation will follow.
The giant clock above the doorway confirms that it’s seven a.m.
“I think I just slept—really slept—for the first time in months,” Natasha tells Alexis, who is reading Dear Girls by Ali Wong.
“That’s a sign you’re getting better!” Alexis grins. Yesterday she told Natasha she will be getting ready to leave soon. “You should tell Dr. Chan. Once they know you’re sleeping better and you say you don’t want to hurt yourself, they’ll start making a plan to let you go.”
“Let me go . . . but where?” Natasha’s excitement slips away and she feels a familiar sense of dread. She’ll go back to Suhani and Zack’s apartment with no plan, no job, no open mic spots. Then again, the confinement of the unit has made her realize how much she misses little things about her life. If she leaves soon, at least she can eat what she wants and use her phone. Be outside.
“Most likely to your parents’ house. That’s always their preferred discharge plan. You know, be around family, where you’re always watched, can get help coming to therapy appointments. Blah blah blah.”
“Ugh, I don’t know if being around my mom is the best idea right after I’m out of a place like this.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Alexis says, “the days after I’m out of the hospital are some of the best ones I have with my family. I know it sounds strange, but it’s true. We all sit together for dinner, watch a movie, talk . . . it’s actually really nice.”
Natasha leans back on the thin pillow and is suddenly overcome with a longing for Mom, her scent of sandalwood and vanilla, the reliable sound of her laugh whenever Natasha puts on an old comedy, including movies like The Hangover, which she appreciates more than any other Indian auntie ever would. There’s a lot that’s fun about Mom.
“Since you’re feeling a little better,” Alexis adds, “maybe now is a good time to think more about your YouTube videos?”
Natasha freezes. “You’ve seen my YouTube videos?”
“Yep. Weeks ago.” When Alexis sees the confusion on Natasha’s face, she adds, “I always check to see if my students are creating content. Anyway, your stuff is pretty good. I think the whole family angle is working.”
“Well, it was inspired by you,” Natasha admits. “My favorite parts of your YouTube sketches were always the ones where you talked about your family.”
Before she can hesitate, she asks, “Did it ever cause issues with you and them?”
“Of course it did.” Alexis laughs. “But they got over it eventually. And now it barely fazes them. I realized most things worth doing are always hard at firs
t. It’s about whether you’re willing to push through that hard part that determines if you’ll really make some good art.”
“So you never regretted it? Putting your family into your work, even when it wasn’t, er, flattering?” Natasha asks, wishing she had a Post-it note so she could write down Alexis’s wisdom, return to it later.
Alexis shakes her head. “Never. I think what I love most about comedy is how it lets me take the hardest parts of my life, share them with people, and make them funny. It almost takes away some of the power from the shit that haunts me. Performing gives you a high, yeah, but it’s a temporary high. After it’s over, you have to deal with yourself. You have to embrace who you really are when you’re alone.”
Natasha pictures Alexis’s words floating above them in a bubble as if they’re in a comic strip. Embrace who you really are when you’re alone. Natasha’s spent so long being ashamed for who she is, she never took the time to reflect on the parts of herself she appreciates.
“Plus,” Alexis adds, “when I make stuff nobody else can make, there’s a good chance it’s going to help someone.”
That thought fills Natasha with a warm hope. If she can even help one person in pain, one person who also feels unworthy and not good enough, she will have succeeded. For years, she assumed she was drawn to comedy because she was funny and it seemed like the right fit. Now she realizes that there’s a greater purpose to it for her. She wants to use her potential to make sure people feel less alone.
“Natasha Joshi!” a nurse’s voice booms from the intercom. “You have visitors!”
“Hm, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Natasha tells Alexis before she shuffles out of her room.
The ward is already in full frenzy. Two new patients, both at least ten years older than her, are brought in in wheelchairs. Nurses are administering morning medications to patients who are organized in a single-file line.
Natasha goes to the dining room, which for two hours a day is also the visitors’ area.
Ifeoma and Payal are at a wooden table in the back corner. It’s odd seeing them just sitting there in their summer dresses and sneakers, surrounded by patients in scrubs.
“Oh my God!” Natasha shrieks. “What are you doing here?”
Payal bursts into tears. “You’re okay! Thank God you’re okay. Anuj called us.”
Ifeoma nods. “We couldn’t wait to see you. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Natasha says, relieved that she means it.
When she’s done filling them in on the past week, Ifeoma grabs her hand and says, “I just wish we could have been there for you.”
“It’s not your fault. I pretty much isolated myself. I’ve learned here that depression can make you do that,” Natasha says as she thinks back to the countless hours she spent on Suhani and Zack’s couch, ignoring texts and phone calls, drinking and staring at the television screen until her vision blurred.
But now she sees she could have trusted her friends. They’ve always been there for her.
“It’s obviously been an intense week, so any chance y’all are up for talking about something other than psych wards?” Natasha asks.
“Are you sure?” Payal says.
“Yes! Please,” Natasha says. “I’ve had nonstop group therapy and individual therapy. I need to hear about the outside world. You know, kind of like how after finals week, I’d read a bunch of celebrity tabloids.”
They catch her up on their lives. Ifeoma and Jordan looked at engagement rings and they’re going to Nigeria next month to meet her extended family. Payal got three more med school interviews.
“Damn, well, aren’t you both just kicking ass?” Natasha says as she beams with pride. Her friends are making their biggest dreams happen.
“Yeah, things are falling into place,” Ifeoma says. “But you’re the one out of all of us really taking the risks.”
“Me? The one sleeping on her sister’s couch? Yup, I’m really thriving.” Natasha smiles, actually enjoying the self-deprecating view of herself.
“No, you don’t understand. We were talking about this on the way here. All of us were so full of hope and promise in college. We had these big goals. I wanted to travel and start an environmental advocacy organization, remember? And Payal was going to live in France for a year. But then we graduated and got disillusioned with the real world and all caught up with prestige. You’re the only one of us who stuck to her true passion instead of what she ‘should’ do.”
“Look, for me, a job is just a job. If it pays my bills and makes me happy enough, I’m good,” Payal says. “But you have something you’re really passionate about. That changes everything.”
Natasha never saw it that way. She always assumed, on some level, her friends saw her as struggling. It occurs to her now that she’s spent years projecting her biggest fears onto the people she loves the most.
“That means a lot,” Natasha says, moved by seeing herself the way they do, as someone bold and capable, someone putting herself out there.
“It’s true,” Payal says. “I bet Suhani feels the same way, even if she hasn’t told you.”
“She has, actually,” Natasha says. “But I’ve never believed her. And in thinking about what I ‘should’ do, I’ve realized that’s where Karan fit in. I thought I was supposed to end up with a guy who checked off all the boxes for my family. And it was way scarier to face the unknown than to be with someone who was good enough.”
Ifeoma and Payal exchange an uneasy look.
“What? What is it?” Natasha presses.
“Do you feel ready for some gossip?” Ifeoma asks.
“Hell yeah, I do,” Natasha says. “The only gossip I know around here is that one of the nurses is having a fling with an intern. It scratches my Grey’s Anatomy itch but I need more!”
Payal hesitates, then asks, “Even if it’s about Karan?”
“What about him?” Natasha asks with a more removed tone than she expected. Maybe this is what moving on means, wondering about an ex with just a low-level curiosity instead of an all-consuming desperation.
When both of her friends stay quiet, Natasha says, “Tell me. I can handle it.”
“We ran into him on the BeltLine and he told us he saw your videos.” Ifeoma says the words so quickly that they all blend together.
“What? How the heck did he see them?” Natasha asks.
“His mom,” the girls say in unison.
“Right. Of course. So, that’s it? He saw the videos and that’s it?”
Payal starts to say, “Maybe we should—”
“He thought they were really good. Yes, even the one where you said he’s boring in bed,” Ifeoma says, cutting Payal off. “And then we started catching up with him and, uh, he and that girl broke up.”
“You’re kidding. Well, that’s . . . interesting,” Natasha says. The perfect girl? The one who was Anita Auntie approved? “Did he tell you why? What else did y’all talk about?”
Natasha realizes she sounds exactly like Mom when she’s on the phone with one of her auntie friends.
Ifeoma takes a deep breath as if to prepare herself for everything she’s about to dish out. Natasha scoots her chair closer to the table, feeling more like herself than she has in a long time.
Twenty-Six
Suhani
So, how are you feeling?” Suhani sits at the edge of Natasha’s bed.
“I think I’m better,” Natasha says.
“I think you are, too.” Suhani smiles.
Natasha’s taken the time to brush her hair for the first time in days. Her face looks more relaxed and rested. And she’s smiling, really smiling, in a way that reaches her eyes.
That’s my sister, Suhani thinks as she’s hit with relief and pride. That’s the spirited and brazen person she’s grown up with.
“What do you think has helped
?”
“I dunno if it’s just one thing,” Natasha says. “I thought it was bullshit when on my first night, the staff kept saying the ‘structure’ of the ward would help me, but now I think they were onto something. Even though it sounded like torture when I got here, having limitations and a schedule and not being able to use my phone have all been helpful. And everything Alexis said was spot-on about the therapy and medication making things a lot better.”
“It usually is a combination of things that are helpful,” Suhani says. “But the most important one is your willingness to try any of them at all. You did all this hard work to feel better. I’m so, so proud of you for that.”
And I will do everything to make sure you never feel that awful again, she silently promises herself.
“Thanks. It was hard. I think on some level, it’ll always be hard.” Natasha swings her legs over the side of the bed. “Is it weird that I was a little reluctant to start medication? Even though you and Dad do this for a living? I love therapy, I always have, but for some reason when the team first told me about the Prozac, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it.”
“That’s not weird at all. A lot of people feel that way,” Suhani says. “It can be scary to take a medication. Were you worried it would affect your creativity?”
Natasha nods. “I thought it would mute me in some way, make it harder for me to do comedy. But hearing Alexis tell me how much it helped her gave me a push.”
“That makes sense,” Suhani says. “The chances are it’ll make you more in control of your emotions and, hopefully, in a better place to create. And remember how Dad and I would always say that if someone’s blood pressure or cholesterol was high, they’d get a pill for those? Same thing here. You’re taking something to ensure you can be the healthiest you possible.”