I Know Your Every Move

by Diane Ezzard

  With Kyle not working, it didn’t help my financial burden having him at home. However, we agreed he would start building computers and I would sell them. I thought he was talented, but he lacked confidence. It turned out I could sell them quicker than he could put them together. For a few weeks we did well, and I loved the buzz of it all but Kyle wasn’t coping with the pressure. When a customer who’d bought one phoned up with a problem, Kyle caved in completely and started having a panic attack. I had never seen him like that before and his chest pains and inability to breathe were scary to watch. We sat down and talked.

  “Sophie, I don’t think I can cope with this anymore.” Kyle was close to tears.

  “But we were doing so well. The money has been great coming in and you’re so good at what you do.” I couldn’t help but show my disappointment.

  “It’s making me ill, Sophie. Look at me.” He held his hands out and they were shaking. I had to accept defeat and agree his health was more important than the money. So, he didn’t build any more computers, and we got more and more in debt. Luckily, my dad offered to lend me some money until I was back at work.

  The weeks went by. I got sick of eating beans on toast and egg sandwiches and making do. I was used to being frivolous with my cash so having to account for every penny and make sure I budgeted accordingly wasn’t easy. We had to sit in every night and watch TV and boredom set in. I wanted to go out.

  Kyle didn’t mind. He enjoyed playing computer games. As my limbs healed, and I was able to do more, I began to resent the fact Kyle had no job. He was gifted and had a good brain. I tried to encourage him. I helped him with his CV. We did mock interviews to help him as he lacked confidence. I suspected deep down he didn’t want to work. He just wanted to study. He already had one degree. There was no real pressure on him in that environment because he found the work relatively easy. He’d have been happy going through life from one course to another. Unfortunately, he had no goal at the end of it to aim for. He really was a classic geek. He didn’t particularly like to socialise. After witnessing his panic attacks, I realised I couldn’t push him and I had to agree it was handy having a driver at my beck and call.

  He’d mentioned to me in the past he’d suffered from depression and it would come and go. When it arrived, he never knew how long it would last for. I found out he was still taking antidepressants but they didn’t seem to help at all the first time I witnessed one of his dark periods.

  Everything about him changed overnight. His speech changed. The words he used became more laboured and his tone was deep and low. The language he used was continuously negative. I found it very frustrating listening to him. I wanted to shake it out of him. His behaviour changed. He didn’t want to do anything. He could see no point in life anymore. As the weeks continued with these moods, it put a real strain on our relationship. I tried to remain positive and think of things that might help him.

  “I think you ought to try counselling, Kyle,” I was hopeful I could encourage him to take charge of his life. He shook his head.

  “No,” he said.

  “What do you mean, no?” I asked.

  “Tried it. It didn’t work.”

  “But you may have had the wrong counsellor. You’ve got to do something, Kyle. Who’s to say it wouldn’t work for you now?” I could see he wasn’t even listening to me so it was futile to continue the conversation. I was exasperated with him.

  He had periods when he thought everybody was talking about him, even celebrities on TV. I realised something had to change and things got serious when he talked about wanting to die. His behaviour scared me so I cajoled him into going to see his doctor. His medication dosage was increased but his depression didn’t get any better. It was hard to deal with. I had never experienced depression myself. Yes, I’d had low periods, especially when I went through everything with Jay, but this was something else.

  I didn’t think he helped himself in any way. I wanted to tell him to get off his lazy backside and go and get a job. On the rare occasions I did mention anything like that or hint at any suggestion of him doing something, he would get angry and withdraw into himself and he’d sulk and stop talking to me.

  His drinking also started increasing. I knew alcohol was a depressant so was only making matters worse, but I was actually glad at times when he was being silly. It was better than the depression until he became annoying. The problem was the drinking got worse rapidly, to worrying proportions. Having a go at him about it didn’t help. I tried controlling the amount he drank by buying it for him but he would still get drunk and I’d be baffled as to how it happened. I tried slowing his drinking down by drinking with him but that didn’t work either. I wasn’t aware of how cunning and secretive someone who is abusing alcohol can be.

  We grew apart, but I still cared for him and I wanted to help him. Sometimes, when he was receptive enough and sober enough to listen, we would have a heart to heart. We had long conversations about what could be at the core of his issues.

  “You have no idea what it was like for me, growing up with a mother who was an alcoholic. From a very early age, I had to fend for myself. I made meals for myself from about eight years old.” He sat on the floor, his head in my lap. He began to cry.

  I thought, “He’s right.” I had no idea what going through something like that must have been like but it was as though he couldn’t let go of it and his mother hadn’t had a drink for years now. I thought he needed help, but I was the only person he would talk to. I became desperate as to how best to support him so I decided to phone up his mother, Joyce. I didn’t tell Kyle I’d contacted her. She was really nice, and she empathised with my situation.

  “If it’s any consolation, this period will pass. He has had these dark periods before. All you can do is be there for him and listen. He’s so lucky to have you in his life.” Joyce said all the right things but, listening to her, I wasn’t convinced and wondered how much longer things could go on the way they were.

  I was encouraged by the newfound friendship he made with a guy who lived close by but my elation he might be making progress was soon dashed when I realised this man, Stephen, also had a drink problem. He became a bad influence on Kyle. Often I would come home from work to find the pair of them sat drunk, the room strewn with empty lager cans. There’d be half-eaten pies on plates left on the coffee table. The whole place would smell and be so untidy it would resemble a war zone. The two of them would be playing computer games, laughing and joking, oblivious to their surroundings.

  Financially, we only just got by even though I earned a good salary. Each month we had to juggle things around to make ends meet. It took longer than expected for me to recover from my period on sick leave. More would be going on the credit cards and, if something didn’t change soon, then this downward trend would only end in disaster. Looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t end the relationship. Things were so one-sided but I felt a sense of loyalty to him for caring for me after my accident and I honestly didn’t think he would have coped without me there. In a warped way, I enjoyed the role of mother and martyr. A lot of the time, I considered throwing him out but thought that would be heartless. I tried to think of new ways to discuss the situation without causing a row but it wasn’t easy. I secretly hoped he would do something bad enough to be able to end it with him.

  One Saturday morning, after I’d been to my pilates class, I came back, and he was up and watching TV. The place was a tip. The room had been like that since the previous evening and I told myself, I’m not cleaning up this time. Stephen had been round again, and I’d taken myself off to bed early. When I surfaced, that morning, the lounge looked like there’d been a party. Empty bottles of wine, cider and beer cans were dotted about the place. The pungency of a left-over chicken chow mein caused distress to my senses. I scanned the sight and counted to ten. Suppressed rage bubbled under my skin. The heat rose within me and my colouring now took on a red glow, having risen from the bottom of my body to the top.

/>   Kyle took one look at my stern expression and worked out he was in trouble.

  “I’ll clear up. Don’t get your knickers in a twist over a few empty cans. Give me five minutes and I’ll have it looking like a new pin.” I ignored him and walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.

  “I’ll have a brew, love,” he called out and I could hear him rummaging in the hall cupboard, getting the hoover out.

  “Can you rustle up a cheese toastie for me and I’ll have this place shipshape in no time?”

  I couldn’t believe the gall of him. Tears welled up inside me. How much more of this are you going to put up with, girl, I said to myself? My inner senses screamed to do something. I slowly sat down at the kitchen table, my face in my hands. My head pounded. I wanted to block it all out, everything. The mess in the room next door mirrored how my life felt.

  A moment elapsed, and I looked up to see Kyle stood in the doorway. He smiled nervously. He lowered his head and cocked it to one side. His mouth drooped downwards, and he looked over at me with doleful, sad eyes.

  Almost mockingly he whispered, “Not got the toast on yet?” He didn’t take his eyes off mine. The hatred I felt towards him in that moment must have been evident to him. I’d always been told in the past my face was so expressive people could tell what I thought. I didn’t need to say anything. The classic expression, if looks could kill, came to mind.

  Kyle didn’t stay around for a reply and I sat, deep in thought for a few minutes. I tried to keep a lid on how I felt but I could sense things were coming to a head. Begrudgingly, I did make his cheese on toast. My movements were robotic and my body gave in to my sense of duty. My head cried out for me to stop this right now. The arguments going on inside me were driving me insane.

  Don’t make him anything else.

  But remember how good he was for you when you had your accident.

  If you don’t end this relationship soon, he’s going to bring you down with him.

  But he loves you and you wouldn’t find anyone else who loves you like this.

  My body carried on regardless of these comments as I spread the butter onto the toast and sprinkled cheese on top. I put the toast under the grill and tried to shut my head up. Emotions were still running high when I took the plate of food into the lounge. Kyle finished tidying the last of the empties off the table. I slowly placed the plate down in front of him with deliberation.

  “You’d better enjoy this because I won’t be making anything else for you.” I walked over to the other side of the room.

  “What do you mean?” he sounded like a child who’d been told it was bedtime. I didn’t reply to him.

  “What do you mean? What do you mean?”

  With a hostile expression and through gritted teeth, I gave him one of my stares. I wasn't even sure what I would say next. The words just came out of my mouth.

  “I’m withdrawing my labour.” Silence enveloped the room. I carried on, not knowing where the sentences came from as I hadn’t planned any of this.

  “I’ve had enough, Kyle. It’s time we called it a day. We’re only fooling ourselves if we think we’re happy together because we both know we’re not. I think this is pretty much the end of the road for us, Kyle.”

  I didn’t know exactly what I expected in response but it certainly wasn’t what I got. I wrongly believed my harsh words would shock him into changing. He got up and moved to the other side of the room. My eyes watched him intently. He stared back at me, considering his options. He seemed unsure what he would do next.

  He shouted, “You’ve had enough, huh, well I’ve had enough too.” He walked over to the plate of food, picked it up slowly and threw it at the wall. I looked on in disbelief. The plate shattered, and I stared in shock at the grease stain that had been left on the wall. I stood motionless, eyes riveted at the aftermath of the scene. Before it all registered clearly for me, Kyle stomped out of the room. I began to pick up the pieces of the broken plate whilst still trying to fathom out what just happened.

  I finished clearing up the mess and had to get out of the house to clear my head. I didn’t know where Kyle had gone and I didn’t care. I grabbed my jacket off the coat hook in the hall and slammed the front door behind me. The fresh crisp air felt good. It was cold, but I needed that to bring my senses back to reality. I walked for two hours. I had to make plans now. I would help him find his own place. Maybe I should get in touch with his mother to see if she would have him for a while. She’d be upset but I couldn’t be swayed. I mentally went through all the times in the past he had let me down. I knew I’d made the right decision. I even thought about what to do if he wouldn’t leave. I would find somewhere else myself to live. That would be more inconvenient but it had to be done.

  Coming to the end of my walk, my hands felt clammy as I got near home. Nervousness bubbled up inside me as I turned the key in the lock. I walked in, my steps slow and forced. Kyle wasn’t in the lounge or the kitchen. He must have gone out, I said to myself. I was relieved and sat down, picking up the newspaper to read. I couldn’t rest. My head was all over the place. It was like a washing machine on full cycle. I felt on edge. I’d get up to make a cup of tea then change my mind and sit back down again. My stomach was in knots.

  Had I done the right thing? Was I a bit harsh with him? I kept questioning myself. I thought I had made the correct decision but then I would experience waves of sadness and doubt. My eyes filled up with tears. I was going to listen to some music but thought that might make me feel worse as my collection consisted virtually all of sad love songs. My head pounded, and I needed to take something to stop it. I went to the bathroom to get a couple of painkillers.

  As I walked towards the door, I felt the silence encompass me. The churning inside my stomach continued. I wasn’t sure if I was experiencing discomfort about what took place earlier or gut instinct telling me worse was to come.

  I put my fingers around the handle of the bathroom door and was about to open it when I glanced over and saw the bedroom door was ajar. I peered in and saw Kyle on the bed. Oh, don’t tell me he’s drunk already, I thought to myself but decided to go in and investigate, anyway. As I pushed the bedroom door wider, my heart skipped a beat as I viewed the scene.

  Kyle lay comatose on top of the duvet and next to him were an empty vodka bottle and two empty pill bottles. I quickly went over and looked at what he had taken. Reading the labels of the bottles, I saw it was paracetamol and his antidepressants but I couldn’t be sure how many. If I thought my stomach had been churning earlier, now it was doing somersaults.

  “Kyle, Kyle.” I shook him vigorously but got no response.

  “Come on, wake up Kyle.” My heart pounded as I tried to feel his pulse. There was a faint one. I ran into the kitchen to get my phone and dialled 999.

  The ambulance crew arrived within ten minutes. I was so relieved to let someone else take over the responsibility of trying to help him. By the time they arrived, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Please, don’t let him die. He’s not going to die, is he?” I looked at them pleadingly, hoping for some reassurances.

  “We’ll do everything we can for him, love. It’s good we have an idea about what he’s taken.”

  I held his hand all the way to the hospital and, before we arrived, he started to come round. I smiled down at him.

  “It’s going to be alright, Kyle. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll look after you.” I realised in that moment I would never leave him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THEN

  Life with Kyle didn’t improve after his suicide attempt. He made a real go of cutting down on his drinking though. This was at the time my own alcohol consumption started increasing. It began with me having a glass of wine or two when I got in from work and then slowly I would finish off the whole bottle. Our relationship changed. There was a new understanding between us but we became more like brother and sister living under the same roof. I was developing an independent life doi
ng things that didn’t involve Kyle. Something definitely died inside me when he took his overdose. At a subconscious level, I withdrew emotionally to protect myself from any more hurt but I still cared about him as well as caring for him.

  I went out regularly on Friday nights with a crowd from work. Kyle didn’t seem to mind. He never wanted to go out nor did he have any money to and he was happy, sitting at home on his computer playing games in his own little world. He recently started a new programming course which he enjoyed and his general mood appeared to be improving.

  All the while, my own dark clouds loomed overhead. I was deeply unhappy, and I went through phases of wanting to split up again but never felt brave enough to leave. I didn’t want to feel responsible for anything Kyle might do so I kept my thoughts to myself and took solace in the bottle. The way we had grown apart, I couldn’t understand why he would stay but I thought he would have to be the one to make the first move. I encouraged him to go out on his own, hoping he would meet someone else but he seemed content with me doing his cooking and cleaning and providing for him. I saw I was doing the lion’s share of things even though I did enjoy my role, looking after him.

  I shifted my focus to work, spending more time there, not wanting to go home at night. This paid off because my efforts were recognised and I was promoted to team leader. I got moved to a team with four other guys. Their names were Matthew, Mark, Luke and Joe. Shame it wasn’t John , but they certainly weren’t a biblical bunch. I enjoyed being part of their banter and Mark was a real comedian, so work could be fun. Most of the lads were United fans apart from Mark and he was a true blue. For many years he’d taken a lot of stick from the other guys but now City were doing well, he was having the last laugh. That didn’t stop the teasing though

  “Hey, Mark, What’s the difference between a City fan and a baby?” asked Matt from his seat in the corner of the room.