by Bill Condon
‘Because I’m the fucking expert,’ Doctor Rezni replied calmly.
I couldn’t believe that that word had come out of her mouth. She even smiled as she said it.
Mum’s eyes narrowed, staring hard at her.
‘Oh my god,’ murmured Auntie Joan, ‘I think she’s going to hit her.’
But suddenly Mum changed.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Let’s hear what you have to say.’
25
This time I joined them in the consulting room.
Doctor Rezni didn’t waste a minute. ‘I believe you have an illness called Bipolar Disorder, which most people know as manic depression. It’s a terrible thing. I can well understand why you feel so bad at times.’
I saw Mum softening by the second. Finally, here was a doctor who seemed like she actually cared.
Doctor Rezni asked Mum a lot of questions: How did she feel when she was depressed? How long had it been happening? What had other doctors told her?
Mum just shook her head. There had been so many doctors and tablets. It was all a jumble. Some doctors had given her condition other names — Borderline Personality, Multiple Personality, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder — no one had called it ‘Bipolar’ before.
‘I think you’ve been mis-diagnosed,’ Doctor Rezni said. ‘That in turn means you’ve been taking the wrong medication.’
Mum slowly shook her head. ‘Just my luck.’
Doctor Rezni glanced through the list that Auntie Joan had brought in — the names of the tablets Mum had been taking through the years.
‘No, none of these are suitable for bipolar sufferers — in many cases they could make you feel worse.’
Mum turned to Auntie Joan.
‘Can you believe this? No wonder I’m crazy. I go to doctors who are crazy! Crazy and incompetent!’
She thumped the arm of the chair and bared her teeth, snarling at doctors everywhere. The only one who was safe — for the moment — was Doctor Rezni.
‘But the good thing is, Ruby — can I call you that?’
‘If I can call you Eve.’
‘Of course you can.’
Mum moved her chair a fraction closer.
‘The good thing is, once you start on the tablets I’m going to prescribe, you’ll see an improvement. It will be gradual at first. But you will keep on getting better.’
The doctor beamed a smile at me and Auntie Joan.
‘Now your job is very important. You must make sure Ruby takes her medication. That’s every day. Will you do that?’
We both nodded eagerly. Mum wasn’t going to miss those tablets, even if it meant shoving them down her throat.
We were home by four, stocked up with lots of bright shiny new pills.
‘Pills make me tired.’ Mum looked like she was about to chuck them out the window. ‘I can’t remember things. Who knows what else this lot will do to me?’
Auntie Joan handed Mum a glass of water.
‘Down the hatch.’
Grimacing, Mum swallowed the pills.
‘I’m bound to forget to take them,’ she said, putting down the glass. ‘I always forget.’
‘No, you won’t. I’ll be right here to hand them out.’
‘Now look, Joan, Brian and I are perfectly able to manage on our own.’
‘Well, that’s too bad. Because you’re stuck with me.’
I felt like cheering.
Mum took her pills, and day by day she edged out of her depression and rage. Auntie Joan hardly left her side. I’d walk past and see the two of them deep in conversation at all hours of the night and day. It was like a stone had been shifted from Mum’s throat and the logjam of words could escape. Sometimes at night I’d hear her crying and it would be non-stop for a long time. Another logjam freed up.
There were lots of whisperings between Auntie Joan and me.
‘She’s coming along in leaps and bounds, Bri.’
‘But how long will it last?’
‘I don’t do miracles, darl. Wish I could.’
In the second week they began painting the house together. I needed sunglasses, the colours were so bright. The place looked like Hippy Heaven.
Auntie Joan gave Mum regular massages, with lots of oil. She offered to give me one, too. Thanks, but no thanks. It would have been pretty bad if I’d got turned on while my auntie was rubbing me. There’s got to be a law against that.
She also burnt incense day and night. It was like living in the middle of a perfume factory. They were young girls again. I think Auntie Joan had always been that way. With Mum the fun of being young was long forgotten, but that was changing.
One day I walked past Mum’s bedroom and glimpsed something shocking. Nightmare material.
Mum in a bikini!
I poked my head in the door and got a double dose of horror.
Auntie Joan in a bikini!
They wobbled towards me, Mum’s flesh pale and lumpy, Auntie Joan’s tanned but stretched and saggy.
‘What do you think?’ Mum asked.
‘Too much information,’ I said.
As well as having some fun in her life, Mum started getting better sleep, too. She said that was because she and Auntie Joan were sharing a bed.
‘We’re not lesbians or anything,’ Auntie Joan said, just in case I was thinking it, which I was.
‘But we might end up that way,’ Mum added.
My jaw almost hit the floor, then I realised I’d been sucked in.
Mum had made a joke. Amazing.
‘Well, there’s only two bedrooms,’ Auntie Joan had explained, ‘and I’m tired of sleeping on that uncomfortable sofa.’
She put her arm around Mum.
‘Besides, I promised your mum that she’s not going to be alone in this. Any of it. So if she has nightmares, we share ‘em.’
Mum said it was a dumb idea, but she loved it.
The only hiccup in the arrangement was Dad.
He and Auntie Joan had a lot in common. Life was a party for both of them. They didn’t worry much, they liked to laugh and joke around, and they got on with most people. But put them together and you got fireworks.
One day Dad rolled home half full. The three of us were doing a crossword on the back verandah. Dad waved to me. ‘How yer goin, Bri?’ And kept on walking.
‘What about your wife?’ Auntie Joan called after him. ‘Are you too rude to even say hello?’
‘Just let him go,’ muttered Mum. ‘He’s not worth the effort.’
Dad walked back. He had a big smile on his face.
‘You’re quite right, Joanie. My apologies, ladies. How are you both? Well, I hope.’ He winked at me. ‘See, Bri, me boy, there’s a good lesson for yer, son. Never try to argue with dickheads.’
Auntie Joan went for him.
‘How dare you put your wife down like that in front of your son!’
‘Yeah, my son. Glad you noticed that. I’ll say whatever I like to him.’ He turned to me. ‘Mad as a cut snake, she is, Bri.’
‘Please leave it, Joan,’ said Mum.
Auntie Joan stepped off the verandah and stood in front of Dad.
Dad folded his arms.
‘Yeah? Got somethin’ to say, have yer?’
She must have been saving it up for a long time.
‘You’ve got such a smart mouth, Mick. But you know what? You’ve got no heart. That’s why Ruby got sick. Because you’re a heartless bastard, and you don’t care, do you? You have no idea what responsibility means. You want to look the word up sometime.’
‘Haven’t you got a home to go to, yer stupid cow.’
Dad headed towards the safety of the shed. Auntie Joan followed on his heels, relentless.
‘Sure, you put on a show for Bri —’
‘You leave the boy out of this.’
‘But that’s all it is — a show.’
‘Shut up.’
‘What do you actually do for him, Mick? Did you ever go to his school?’
‘Shut up!’
‘Did you? Even once?’
Dad wheeled round.
‘Listen here, Joan. How about you mind your own business.’
‘Or what? You’ll hit me? Is that it? Hear that, Bri? This is good old Dad talking. What a man! He’s going to hit me because he can’t stand hearing the truth. Hitting a woman, that’d be exactly what I’d expect from him.’
Dad lowered his head. When he looked up again his smile had returned.
‘Well, I gotta go. It’s been a delightful little chat, Joanie.’ He waved a finger at her. ‘Now you take care when you’re out tonight — I’d be real upset if yer fell off yer broom.’
Dad crouched down and gave me a double thumbs-up.
‘A win for the boys, Bri! A win for the boys!’
Then he scooted into the shed as fast as he could.
‘Coward!’ Auntie Joan yelled.
Mum was crying again.
I waited a while — not wanting to be seen to be choosing sides — then went out to the shed. Dad didn’t hear me come in. The television was blaring. He was snoring, mouth wide open, the dead marines lined up beside him.
I reckon Mum had spent about ten years of her life just on cleaning. If my bedroom was dirty it was almost a hanging offence. Dad wasn’t so fussy. He had newspapers heaped on the floor, beer cans scattered everywhere and plastic takeaway containers piled high and heading to the moon. Every so often he’d have a giant clean-up and the place would be halfway decent, but then the junk would come tumbling back again and it was like it had never gone away.
I thought about his life. It wasn’t much: going to work and coming home and getting full and going to sleep in front of the telly. I knew he hadn’t been a good father in lots of ways — he’d score zero for responsibility — but in other ways he was the best. Just the fact that he was living in that crummy shed told me that. He wanted to be close to me. Of course, Mum didn’t buy that.
‘Is that what he told you? Well, it’s a lie, Brian. He lives there because he doesn’t have to pay rent. How long will it take you to wake up? Your father doesn’t care about anyone except himself!’
Mum was wrong. Auntie Joan was wrong. I was sure of it.
26
A day without seeing Emma was empty to me. I doubted that it was the same for her — she never said — but still, she seemed happy enough when I rolled up.
‘You’re late. Zeb was getting worried.’
At first we just hung out in the paddock, feeding the horse, grooming it, bagging manure. Then it was bike-riding down at the cycle track, a movie, and a couple of times we went fishing off the rocks. She even tried to teach me to roller-blade.
‘It’s easy, Bri. Just do as I do.’
My legs flew out from under me and I landed in a tangle.
‘That’s a very interesting technique you’ve got there, Bri.’
A disaster. But still fun.
One day we walked down to the ocean together.
‘Let’s stop at your place on the way,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll get to meet Sassy — hey, we could take her to the beach with us. And I can also meet your mum and your auntie. It’s about time I did.’
I couldn’t admit the truth, that even though Mum was heaps better, thanks to Auntie Joan, things could change suddenly. And if Emma struck Mum in a bad mood she might not want to have anything to do with me again. I felt like I was being disloyal simply for thinking that, so I couldn’t say it out loud. But I could duck and weave …
‘Maybe you should just wait outside — in case Mum isn’t feeling too well.’
‘Bri.’ Emma clenched my hand. ‘It’s not like I’m walking in there unprepared. I know your mum’s got problems. But I still really want to meet her. Okay?’
No, it wasn’t okay. It was a bad move. I hated it.
‘Sure,’ I said.
Auntie Joan was in the kitchen when we walked in.
‘Hiya, sweetie.’
‘This is Emma, a friend of mine.’
‘Hello, darl. I’m Joan.’
‘Hi.’
Emma put out her hand but Auntie Joan hugged her — she hugged everyone.
‘Sit down, darls, sit down.’
‘We’re just here to pick up Sassy, if that’s okay with you. We want to take her to the beach.’
‘Oh, I’ll have to think hard about that.’ She furrowed her brow. ‘You know how much she hates going for a walk.’
She whistled and Sassy bounded in from the verandah. Tail wagging at top speed, she jumped up and planted her wet nose on Emma’s face.
‘You’re such a beautiful girl, aren’t you.’ Emma patted her head. Sassy lifted her paw to shake hands.
Friends for life.
I clipped on Sassy’s lead for a fast getaway.
‘Won’t you stay and have something to eat first?’ Auntie Joan asked.
‘No, thanks, we’d better get going.’
Then I heard the back door open. Mum walked in.
‘I was hanging out some washing. Thought I heard voices.’
Emma smiled hello. Mum managed a smile in return.
I introduced them.
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Mum.
‘I’ll make us a cuppa.’ Auntie Joan hesitated. ‘Or would you rather have a soft drink?’
‘We really should be going to the beach.’
I copped a glare from Emma. ‘It won’t go away, Bri.’
‘Soft drinks all round then,’ decided Auntie Joan. ‘Quick and easy.’
We sat at the kitchen table, Sassy distracting everyone with her antics, licking and wagging, desperate for play.
‘She’s very intelligent.’ Auntie Joan dropped a piece of meat in front of her. ‘You watch. She won’t eat it until I tell her to.’
Saliva dribbled from Sassy’s mouth.
‘No, Sassy. Don’t touch.’
The meat was gone in a gulp.
‘Oh dear,’ muttered Auntie Joan. ‘I was going to sell her to a circus.’ She twirled Sassy’s tail. ‘Now I’ll just have to keep you, won’t I, old girl?’
‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ Mum said. ‘I don’t get to meet many of Bri’s friends — he probably tells people I’m some kind of monster.’
Emma smiled at that. ‘I don’t think so. He’s always telling me good things about you.’
‘Does he now? What sort of things?’
Mum fixed Emma with her cross-examiner’s stare.
‘Oh, all good things — you’re kind, you’re sweet …’
‘This brute says that?’ Mum playfully tugged my ear.
‘Yes, he does. All the time. He’s wanted me to meet you for ages but I’ve been busy with school work.’
‘I’ll bet he says nothing of the sort’ — Mum glanced from me back to Emma — ‘but I like that you covered for him, Emma. That tells me a lot about you … all good things.’
I could almost see the tension get up and leave the room.
The beach was perfect. Just us.
Emma threw the ball hard towards a pack of seagulls. Sassy forgot the ball and sprinted flat out after the birds. They kept low, taunting her, mocking her attempts to catch them.
Emma kicked off her shoes and skipped along the water’s edge.
‘Come on, Bri. Leave your shoes with mine.’
‘It’s too cold.’
‘Oh, poor baby.’
‘Aw all right then, hang on.’
‘By the way, I like your mum. And your auntie. They’re both nice.’
I nodded, casual, though it meant so much. I scuffed a handful of water in her direction.
‘You want a fight, do you?’
She splashed me back.
Sassy dropped the ball at my feet and I kicked it towards Emma, along with a spray of water.
Emma pointed at me. ‘You’re going to die!’
We wrestled and laughed until we were both wringing wet.
I was sure there would never be a better time, but a war raged in my head.
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Don’t say that, you idiot.
You have to say it!
It’s stupid! She’ll be embarrassed! She’ll freak out! Please don’t say it!
Be a man for once in your life! Say it! Say it! Say it!
‘I love you, Emma.’
She looked away.
God, the pain.
Wasn’t she supposed to say the same back to me?
Wasn’t she supposed to hold me?
Instead she wandered off down the beach, her hands thrust into her pockets, her head bowed.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I called after her.
She stopped, but still didn’t look at me.
I caught up to her.
‘I’m not sorry I said it. I might never get a chance to say it again, so I’m glad. But you don’t have to say anything. Okay? I understand and it’s all right. It doesn’t matter … I won’t hang around you if you don’t want me to. I’ll go away. Just tell me and I’m gone.’
I threw the ball hard for Sassy, deep into the ocean. Chase that, you stupid mutt.
‘I can’t help it. That’s just the way I feel. It’s stupid and it’s dumb and —’
‘Please stop.’ Our eyes met. ‘What you said was beautiful and I love you for saying it.’
You do?
‘But Bri … I’ve gotta be honest. I’m not in love with you. That’s so different.’
I wanted to be with Sassy, plunging into the ocean after that ball, but I would have stayed there for ever.
Emma dropped to the sand and pulled me down beside her.
‘You are a friend — you hear? A really special friend. And I want to keep on being friends with you. I don’t want you to go away.’
I felt such a fool. And I must have made her feel so bad too. Me and my delusions.
‘Okay. That’s fine. Good.’
I got to my feet, dusted off the sand.
‘I’d better be getting back, get into some dry clothes. Here Sassy, come on, girl.’
‘Tell me you’re all right, Bri.’
‘Sure. I’m fine. It’s good that we’re still friends.’
‘Always.’
‘Great. I have to go …’
‘You’re not all right, are you?’