“Me,” Darren said shortly.
“Well, I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it’s never nice to visit the doctor, is it? How can I help, Darren?”
Darren worked his jaw. He still hated this part, and Jayden squeezed his fingers. “He’s depressed,” he supplied gently. “And we want to, you know, do something about it but his last two doctors were…not great.”
“Crap,” Darren translated.
“And you are?”
“Jayden Phillips. I’m his boyfriend.”
“And are you a long-term partner, Jayden?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” The doctor brought up a file on his computer screen. Jayden began to feel a little less wary. The previous doctor hadn’t liked him being in the room for these talks, although Jayden had never worked out whether she’d been homophobic or whether she’d swallowed the handbook on patient confidentiality. She’d cited it often enough. “Darren, do I have your permission to discuss your medical details with Jayden?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Now I do have your medical history here, but I prefer to hear it from the patient in most cases. How long do you think you’ve been depressed?” The doctor flipped open a notebook.
“Since I was ten or twelve. So…ten, twelve years since.”
The doctor began to scribble. “Were you treated as a teenager?”
“No.”
“Are you depressed all the time, or does it come and go?”
Darren shrugged. “I have bad days. Moods. But it’s always there underneath. Like a shadow. Doesn’t mean it’s necessarily dark, but there’s always a shadow.”
The doctor nodded, writing furiously. “And what treatment have you received, if any?”
“M’seeing a counsellor.” Darren hated the counselling, he’d been through three already. He didn’t like the latest one, Elaine, any better, and Jayden kind of knew that it was doomed in the long run. “I don’t like it, though. I don’t think it really helps.”
“And the last doctor had him on pills, but he got worse,” Jayden interjected. “Citalopram.”
“Yes,” the doctor turned back to the file, “I did have a quick read-through. Darren, do you know if either of your parents suffered from mental illness?”
“My grandparents killed themselves.”
Jayden’s hand clenched, along with his gut. He hadn’t known that, and he stared incredulously at Darren. “They what?”
“Granddad Peace,” Darren said. “He hanged himself before I was born. And Grandma Akbar took an overdose when I was about thirteen. She was bipolar, though, I know that, I remember Mother talking about it.”
Jayden squeezed his hand hard.
“And Father is on antidepressants at the moment, but Mother divorced him a couple of years ago, so I don’t know if that’s a long-term thing.”
The doctor hummed thoughtfully. “Dr. Johnson kept extensive notes on the patterns and symptoms you reported, Darren, and I have a few suspicions. Do you feel depressed about any particular aspect of your life right now?”
Darren frowned. “Not really.”
“And do the moods occur independently of a bad day? That is to say, if your day at work was terrible, do you develop a depressive mood?”
“No, he gets bitchy,” Jayden blurted out, and Darren smiled faintly.
“No,” he confirmed.
“Mm. As I thought. I think you’re suffering from a chemical imbalance rather than an environmental problem, probably inherited from one or both of your parents. The good news for you is that while counselling can teach you some excellent coping techniques, ultimately, talking therapy is quite rarely a full cure when the problem is chemical rather than environmental. Talking therapy tends to work better when there is something in the patient’s environment strongly influencing their symptoms.”
“So…you’ll medicate him?” Jayden whispered.
“Unfortunately, I also see here that you have a history of suicidal behaviour,” the doctor continued.
Darren’s jaw tightened. Jayden bit his lip and squeezed Darren’s hand.
“Many antidepressants are unsuitable for patients who have already attempted suicide and I am…reluctant to offer most types of antidepressant to you because of it, I will admit,” Dr. Zielinski explained. Jayden shifted a little closer until his shoulder bumped Darren’s. “The problem with antidepressants is that they make things worse before they make them better. If a patient is already suicidal, the risk of inducing further suicidal behaviour is very strong and that is the last thing we want here. I’m hesitant to use medication, especially given the notes about the last attempt.”
Darren stared at the floor; Jayden let go of his hand to put an arm around his shoulders and kiss his temple.
“I think we’ll begin treating this at a low level and work our way up until we start making a difference.” Dr. Zielinski decided, sitting back. “Jayden, do you live with Darren?”
“Yes.”
“So you know most of what he does on a day-to-day basis?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a balanced diet?”
“Um, yeah, fairly balanced,” Jayden shrugged. “He’s a bit of a dustbin, actually, he’ll eat anything.”
“What about exercise?”
“I box twice a week. And I’m a crime scene examiner. Not exactly an office job.”
“Any excessive habits? Alcohol, drugs, cigarettes, caffeine, that kind of thing? Any addictions?”
“No drugs,” Jayden said immediately, almost bristling at the question. “Or smoking. And…well, I mean, he’s not tee-total, but he doesn’t drink much.”
“How many units per week, on average?”
“Only one or two,” Jayden said. “You know, like, he sometimes has a couple of lagers on Friday night.” Curry night, when Rachel made one of her insanely good curries. “He drinks a lot of coffee, though. Like, he gets through a big jar in a month, easy. On his own.”
“Two,” Darren corrected. “I have one at work too.”
Jayden rolled his eyes and huffed.
“And not to get too personal, but how is your sex life?”
Jayden blinked; Darren seemed unruffled. “Fine,” he replied. “Couple of times a week, usually. Sometimes more.”
“And you aren’t suffering any sexual dysfunction? Low sex drive, erectile problems, premature ejaculation, any of that?”
“No.”
“Any friction?”
“Sorry?” Jayden blurted out, going pink. He felt hot and uncomfortable, and the doctor’s inscrutable expression wasn’t helping. He could…kind of see why he wanted to know, but…really? Did he have to? That was private!
“Is your sex life causing any problems between you? Differing sex drives or tastes, sexual frustration for either of you?”
“No,” Jayden insisted, blinking. Darren smirked, looking amused.
The doctor hummed. “All right. I’m going to prescribe a diet sheet, and I would recommend increasing your boxing to three times a week if possible. Sex and exercise are both excellent for the production of chemicals in the brain that make us happy, and they also build self-confidence and self-respect that is often lacking in patients with depression. Keep up the exercise, cut down on the caffeine—one cup a day, maximum—and I would strongly advise against drinking alcohol. A lager a week is probably fine, but alcohol is a depressant and won’t be helping your brain chemistry in the slightest.”
Jayden instantly decided to ban alcohol entirely, not just in the house.
“Jayden, I want you in particular to keep a record of Darren’s mood and temperament. I’m uncertain at the moment whether there is an element of bipolar disorder, and the medicinal approach for bipolar disorder can be quite different. I will hold off on antidepressants until we have pinned down the exact nature of the problem more exactly.” The printer ran off a sheet, and it was handed to Jayden.
“What about counselling?” Darren asked.
&nbs
p; “For the moment, keep attending,” the doctor said, and Darren frowned. “Even if you don’t feel it’s helping, I get the impression from Dr. Johnson’s notes that you have a tendency to bottle things up, and that won’t help.”
“Oh, just a bit,” Jayden said tartly; Darren pinched his arm.
“If you can get into the habit of letting your emotions out, which counselling should help with, then you will likely be reducing the stress your mind is under. It won’t stop the moods, but it may lessen their severity or their tendency towards rash action. It may also push you towards actively seeking help and company when you feel low, which of course reduces the risk of suicidal behaviour.”
Jayden squeezed Darren in a light hug, and nodded to the doctor. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll try this new…”
“Regime,” Darren said.
“It’s just coffee.”
“Yeah? You try getting me up for work tomorrow.”
The doctor smiled. “Perhaps ease him into the cutting down,” he suggested. “Lower his intake over a week or two. I imagine that approach will be better for your relationship, in any case.”
Darren huffed a laugh and nodded, rising. “Thanks,” he said, actually shaking the doctor’s hand, and Jayden wound their fingers together as they were shown out. Who cared what the rest of the waiting room thought?
“Okay?” he murmured as they reached the door, and Darren shrugged. “Darren.”
“I am, I’m just…frustrated,” he said eventually. The wind tugged at his hair, and his face was tense behind his curls and glasses. He looked almost angry. “It feels like I keep trying to sort things out, and nobody in the NHS is actually fucking interested.”
Jayden hugged him, fisting his left hand in the soft warmth of Darren’s fleece at his shoulder. His hair tickled Jayden’s face. “But you’re trying,” he murmured. “That’s the first step, and Dr. Zielinski seemed all right. Maybe he can help us.”
Darren hummed and took a sighing breath. “You’re not in until after lunch, right?”
“Mhmm.”
“…Let’s get a…”
Jayden raised his eyebrows.
“Tea,” Darren amended. “Or a shake or a hot chocolate or something.”
“Okay.” Jayden kissed the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go down to Southsea, then? Sit out on the promenade?”
Darren nodded, sliding an arm around Jayden’s waist and flicking those pale green eyes over his face. Jayden cocked his head, frowning.
“What’s going on in there?” he murmured, prodding Darren’s temple with one finger.
“Just thinking,” Darren said and let go with one final, perfunctory kiss. “Thinking that I’m lucky to have someone sitting in there with me. C’mon.” He took Jayden’s hand and turned back towards the car. “I’ll drop you at the office afterwards.”
Jayden smiled, squeezed the gloved hand in his, and enjoyed the warm flutter in his stomach.
Chapter 6
Jayden worked for the local paper.
He’d gotten an internship at the end of his degree, and it had turned into a permanent job working on the arts and culture sections and a fair chunk of the website. It had been a relief to have it offered, the way the economy had been when he’d graduated (and kind of still now, honestly) even if the pay was a bit tight. It was lucky he had Darren, really. Between them, they could make ends meet and live a fairly comfortable lifestyle together, but on his own…
Maybe this coffee ban would help with the budget.
Darren dropped him off at the office after lunch at Southsea; Jayden had opted for a half-day so that he could go to the doctor with him, and his boss Stephanie smiled at him as he hurried out of the lift.
“Everything okay, honey?”
Stephanie was in her fifties, a fat woman with a motherly sort of air, and whose idea of management was to make sure everyone was at their assigned desks for vaguely the right times. She clearly thought Jayden was sweet and kept asking about ‘that boyfriend of yours’ in the same tone Charley used to when they’d first got together. Jayden suspected—and office rumour certainly thought—that Stephanie wrote erotic romance novels. Jayden privately thought they were probably gay novels, with how much interest Stephanie showed in his relationship.
“Yeah,” he said, dropping down at his desk. She followed him with a large mug of her favourite sweet tea. “I have to stop him drinking coffee, apparently, which is never going to happen because he’s like addicted. I might try and get him on crack cocaine instead.” One of his colleagues sniggered, and Stephanie beamed.
“Ooh, I know the feeling.” She chuckled. “Is he back at work, then?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. Never does to let them mope!” she said, with the air of someone experienced—though Jayden had never asked—and wobbled away across the office floor towards her own desk.
Jayden liked his job and his colleagues, really. They were nice enough people—a bit quick to assume things about him because he was gay (that was how he’d ended up with the arts and culture section, and the arts blog on the website) but well-meaning. He didn’t feel like he had to hide here, and Darren had once kissed him in the car park and they’d been seen by half the floor on their fag break, but nobody had said anything except for Melinda, a pretty girl with pink hair who worked in advertising, who’d said, “He’s a bit of a looker, your boyfriend,” and nothing else on the subject. Without ever having announced it, he was out. And unlike school and university, nobody cared that he was gay, and nobody took not knowing his boyfriend as a reason to dislike him.
He’d never thought he’d have been happy here: a local paper, a blog with less than a hundred hits a day, and a little unpaid directing and scriptwriting role in the local am-drams. He kept a notebook in his desk for script ideas and scenes, when work was too slow, and his phone on his desk to text Darren during the day—or rather, receive a semi-steady stream of offensive, public-insulting, police-hating rants from Darren in varying degrees of seriousness and irritation, and…he was happy. Jayden was happy here, so far away from his teenage dreams, and it was taking a little getting used to.
He settled in—mostly his mornings consisted of filtering through the hundreds of mis-addressed emails that should be going to the editor or the advertising manager instead of him, but were sent to him anyway as the blog owner for the arts—and re-emptied his in-tray onto his desk in his chaotic way of working that Darren called ‘spastic’ because, when you got right down to it, Jayden actually dated a bit of a prick, really.
“How was your Christmas?” Gina asked over the top of her laptop screen. Gina was the only person in the office close to Jayden’s age (and she was closer to thirty than twenty) and they talked mostly out of a need to discuss TV shows the others didn’t watch or decried as part of that whole ‘young people these days’ thing.
“Pretty good,” Jayden said. “Yours?”
She grimaced, as he’d expected. Gina and her fiancé were in the process of trying to adopt. Jayden didn’t know why they didn’t just have their own baby, and he didn’t want to ask in case it was some big horrible reason, but he had decided from Gina’s horror stories of how awful the social workers were and how one at Southampton City Council had basically accused her boyfriend of being racist that he and Darren were never adopting. (Jayden didn’t know how the racism thing even worked, given Gina’s boyfriend was from Bangladesh and Gina’s parents were both from Barbados, but…)
“Could have been better,” she said, “but we did get approved to foster, so progress!”
She held up her crossed fingers; Jayden crossed his own and smiled.
“So we should be able to get Beth by February,” she said, referring to the baby they were trying to adopt. She was just a year old, and Gina’s desk was littered with pictures of her. “I’m terrified.”
“Don’t be,” Jayden said. “You’ll be a great mum.”
“Yeah, but it’s so much harder with adopted kids.”
&
nbsp; “Doesn’t have to be,” Jayden said, shrugging and binning a half-dozen emails at once. “My Dad adopted me.”
“But that’s in-family, that’s…”
“Yeah, but he’s not my dad-dad, if you know what I mean,” Jayden pushed. “I mean, it’s like dead obvious, I look nothing like him at all and my little sister does and even my boyfriend commented on it when we first got together.”
“When did you guys get together?” Gina interrupted. “Stephanie was saying you’ve been together forever and I was like, are you kidding, Jay’s only like twenty!”
“Twenty-three.”
“No way.”
“Ye-eah.” Jayden pulled a face at her. “I was twenty-three in September. And it’s been, like…seven years.” He went red.
“Oh my God, seven years?” Gina yelped. “You were—wait—sixteen? Oh my God, you were sixteen, and you’re still together?”
“Yep.”
“Wow,” Gina said and wheeled her chair around the desk entirely to stare at him. She was exactly the kind of woman Jayden liked to keep Darren away from: clever, funny, sensible, nice, and very, very pretty. “My boyfriend when I was sixteen didn’t last seven months, and was a total prick, and…how? I mean, you know, people change and grow up and all that shit and how?”
Jayden shrugged, biting his lip. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “Darren’s…Darren’s never really changed. I think he was old before he was ten, you know? And I guess…I didn’t change enough that I wanted to let him go, or he wanted out. So we’re still here.”
“That’s adorable,” Gina said very seriously and beamed. “Are you going to get married?”
Jayden flushed scarlet and planted his face firmly into his hand. “No,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t want to get married!” he exclaimed. “I’m twenty-three, I shouldn’t be married at twenty-three!”
“I was twenty-five when Cal proposed to me,” Gina pointed out. “We’re only not married yet because we’re saving up for Beth.” The other reason, that Gina was the kind of girl who could and would blow twenty grand on a wedding easy, went unsaid. Mostly because it was wholly unnecessary to say it.
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