“And why does that make you act as though you got referred for a root-canal?”
I tried not to grind my back teeth or squeeze my fingers into my thighs. I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “My mum and I don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of issues; my health, for one, my homosexuality for another. The only thing both my parents do agree upon, though, is that my distance from Katelyn is a good thing.”
Camilla frowned but didn’t note anything down. I was grateful for that, making notes whilst I spoke was like documenting my insanity as it unraveled. It left me feeling self-conscious, and that really isn’t the way to get through to someone. I swallowed thickly and waited for Camilla to speak. “What did your mum call you up to talk about? I know she rarely makes the effort to call you up, even before you relapsed.”
“No, she doesn’t make the effort. She was calling me up to see if I was coming home for the Easter holidays in April,” I stated in a somewhat bitter tone as I stared down at the coffee table.
“And are you?” Camilla asked.
I tilted my head to the side, oddly jilted by the question. I honestly hadn’t thought about it. I’d been so aggravated and stunned by the sudden call that I hadn’t given the request a second thought. “I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Well give it some thought. Getting away from school and having a change of scenery could be good for you and help you relax a little more.”
“What makes you think I’m tense?” I asked. Camilla’s raised eyebrows were an indication of what I’d just said and how. I flushed a little, “Okay yes I’m a little on edge about a few assignments that we need to present our progress on, namely our music project.” I sighed; I’d hoped to avoid talking about Casper for one session. “I’m just a little concerned. We’ve all been working so hard on the project and I just hope the effort is worth it.”
Thankfully, Camilla didn’t press about Casper. She merely made a reassuring comment of, “I’m sure the work you’ve all done will have been worth it. Besides, you still have time to change it around if there’s room for improvement,” before continuing on to say, “So you really don’t think you should go to your mums for Easter?”
I shook my head slowly, noticing how she didn’t refer to it as my ‘home’. “No, I know it would only make everyone on edge. They’ll keep Katelyn away from me, or insist on being near us both as all times, and then have very tense dinners in the evenings,” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, “It wasn’t too different at Christmas.”
“Besides your relapse?” she prompted and all I could do was clench my fists and nod. “Avery, did you ever think that maybe, with time away from your family, your parents might be trying to reach out to you? That maybe you going back there for Easter holidays is their way to build a bridge? Maybe having this breathing space with you being here, has cleared the air a little.”
“I guess,” I mumbled listlessly, “I don’t see why she couldn’t have hinted at that at any point during our conversation.”
“How long were you on the phone for?”
I hummed before shrugging, “About twenty minutes. She ended the call when I started to ask her why it had taken either of them this long to contact me, and why neither of them bothered to even ask how I was doing now I was back at Uni.”
“Not even your dad?” Camilla asked.
I shook my head, “No, I think he wanted to keep the peace with Katelyn and my mum.” I sighed and p tilted my head against the back of the chair. “I don’t know if I want to go.”
“Well, no one wants you to decide right now,” Camilla stated.
“Not true,” I shook my head, “My mum wanted me to give an answer within the week. I have to decide by Sunday night and let her know.”
Camilla frowned, obviously thinking that my mum really didn’t have any grounds to suddenly demand things from me. At the end of the day that was how my mum always was with awkward of strained situations. She ended up coming off blunt and downright rude at the most delicate of times. How I was related to her was another mystery for the discovery channel to unravel. I sighed and raked a hand through my hair, “At the very least I wouldn’t want to go alone. It gets so lonely there when Mum’s against me and Dad doesn’t want to cause friction and Katelyn being forced to the side-lines. How am I supposed to get better when that’s my support unit?”
“Well what about Isabel or your other friends here?” Camilla asked as she propped her elbow on the arm of her chair, resting her chin in her hand.
I shot her an incredulous look, “Isabel is the only one who knows how bad it can get. She doesn’t know the details about Christmas; only that it was bad. I don’t want any of them badgering me with false sympathy.”
“How are you so sure it’s false –?”
“Because it always is!” I cut in, almost desperately my mouth twisting into a cruel little smile. “It’s always false by the time you hear it because they’ve dried up all their sympathy when they first hear about incidents from other people.”
Camilla reached out and placed her clipboard on the table before getting up and pouring me a glass of water. She handed it to me and despite not being thirsty, I downed it just to keep my muscles occupied and stop the tears burning behind my eyes.
Camilla broke the silence. “You haven’t told Isabel about your mum calling, have you?” I shook my head, a seed of guilt burying itself inside my chest. I used to tell Isabel everything as soon as it happened. Lately, her waspish attitude made that difficult and I don’t know why. I couldn’t place my finger on it.
Well … yes I could.
She really didn’t like Casper. Everything came around to Casper. Maybe Isabel had been right all along; maybe he was simply a bad influence on me? Then why did not seeing him for the majority of the last fortnight bother me so much? I bit down on my tongue and dropped my gaze to the floor. I knew why; it was like when they had tried to wean me off my medication after the first few months. It had ended abruptly when they realised how lethargic I’d become. I shuddered at the memory, earning a raised eyebrow from Camilla.
I offered her a vague smile; “After I make my decision I’ll tell Isabel. I don’t want her to worry over nothing if I end up deciding against it.”
Camilla nodded as though my decision sounded mature enough to get me out of a lecture from her. “That’s fair enough. You shouldn’t feel obligated to return home after the episode at Christmas. However, you also need to remember that they are still your family and perhaps this time apart has given them something to reflect over. Perhaps this time, the distance, has helped.”
I hunched my shoulders and rubbed my hands down my face. “Perhaps,” I agreed quietly, “But then if I don’t go I won’t know, right? I have two and a half days to decide, do you think I’ll make the right choice?” I didn’t ask for validation, I just wanted someone on my side for a change.
Camilla gave me a warm smile, “Honestly? I think you’re doing better than you think you are. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. If you do decide to go, I’ll send an official report to your parents of your progress this term, how does that sound?”
I frowned, “Do you think that would help?”
“It might show them that you've been trying. This way you won’t personally have to talk about it until you get there. It will ease them into seeing you again, if they know you’re doing better.”
“Well if you think it would help then why not? Providing I decide to go, of course.”
“It can always be sent anyway,” she said. “You’ll no doubt be going home in the summer holidays so it’s most likely going to get sent one way or another.”
I twisted my lips. “Sure but let me decide first before you send anything okay? I don’t want to get a call thanking me for making a decision so soon.” I rolled my eyes. That would be typical Dad-behaviour; trying to boost my confidence with congratulatory calls that ended in awkward silences after all the forced enthusiasm shriveled up.
&
nbsp; Camilla chuckled to herself and then nodded, “I think I can manage that.”
The hour-alarm bleeped on my wristwatch and I blinked in surprise, “My hour’s up already?”
This time she laughed whole-heartedly and it made me smile. “Sorry sweetie. Now off you trot before my next student comes in, okay? I’ll see you next Friday at five.”
I nodded before scooping up my bag and unpinning my paperclip chains from the board and shoving them into my jeans pocket. At the door I turned back and gave her a wave before making my way out of the office and along the corridors towards my dorms.
*
With no lectures for the rest of that afternoon I kept myself secluded in my room. I’d dropped myself onto my bed and dozed for a few hours. Was pretty sure I’d spent over forty minutes staring up at the ceiling and drumming my fingers on my chest. I felt lethargic and drifted in and out of my boredom whenever Isabel texted me between –and sometimes during –her own lectures. I didn’t ask her to come over. I didn’t bother forcing myself to do any homework or anything remotely active. It always somehow managed to surprise me when I realised just how low I felt when I got into these moods. It was a common side-effect from my medication and it never failed to shock me. The clock glowed at me through the gloom.
It read 6:04PM.
Katelyn would be sitting down to dinner within moments and I felt my stomach jolt at how much I missed my little sister. Once upon a time she had annoyed me, as siblings do, but I would’ve given anything to have her bug me incessantly again. She couldn’t even message me on Facebook. In regards to talking to me, my mum was very strict and scrolled through her messages every twenty-four hours. I wished there was some way I could talk to her. Maybe I would go home for the holidays, even if it was just to see Katelyn again.
After a long, hot shower and a microwave meal that didn’t settle my queasy stomach or help the pills go down any easier, I collapsed back onto my bed and looked about my dimly lit room, trying to figure out if there was anything I could do to occupy my hands or my mind.
There was nothing.
Even my paperclips weren’t really doing the trick as my fingers felt thick and useless, and I didn’t even feel the urge to go out into the freezing air and have a cigarette. I felt cold and my skin was suddenly scratchy but no matter how hard I scratched at it, nothing happened. It was like I was slowly growing numb, and deep down it frightened me, but I was too spaced-out to think about it at that.
I needed to get out of the room –anywhere –but where could I possibly go?
I reached for my phone and quickly typed out a message and sent it to two people, ‘Can I meet you tonight? I need to get out.’ Isabel didn’t respond right away like she ordinarily would have done. I frowned at that; normally she replied within a few moments of receiving my text but after twenty minutes I still had nothing. What was she doing that was keeping her so busy so late at night? Fortunately Casper did respond.
‘What do you need?’
The words alone felt like pressure had been eased off my chest.
‘I need some company. I feel a little low.’
I waited for a response and couldn’t breathe for those moments. I shivered and hunched over on the end of my bed as I watched my phone for a blinking envelope. Finally, the light blinked. ‘Alright, do you know where the Art Department is?’
‘Yeah why?’
‘I’m there late. Working. You can come and hang out if you want.’
I sat there for a few moments, slowly swaying on the edge of my bed, as I stared down at the message. Why did he seem hesitant? Usually his responses were quick and articulate. ‘He could just be distracted,’ I tried to reason with myself as I dragged my trainers out from under my bed. I quickly tapped out a response, toed my trainers on, and hurried out of my room.
The Art and Design department was at the bottom of the main building and was quite warm considering the season. It was like all the heat from the kilns spread through the entire department and made all artistic students come out of their extended lessons in a drowsy trance. It was no wonder they liked to work over time.
It took several attempts at rattling the locked doors before I found one that was open and I slipped inside. The adjoined rooms were dimly lit, mostly from the middle room where I’d seen Casper’s hunched over figure briefly as I’d bypassed the small windows that were carved along the walls. The light was heavy and a rustic yellow colour, and bathed the walls with a sickly colour. I had to avert my eyes and concentrate on the linoleum floors as I migrated through until I was standing in the entrance of the room Casper was using. His back was to me and his earphones were plugged in, a faint tinny sound of music trilling out into the quiet air. I hesitated in the doorway; his focus was so intense I loathed disturbing him. I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the doorway, watching him work. It was calming enough that I didn’t realise how much time had passed until I glanced up at the clock. Twenty minutes had already flown by.
The tinny music stopped and I jolted out of my trance-like state as Casper straightened up and tugged the earphones out. He glanced over his shoulder in my direction, but if he was surprised to see me standing there, he didn’t show it.
“You made it, then?” he asked in his bored voice as he rolled his shoulders and tucked the pencil behind his ear.
Nodding, I perched on the edge of the table. “It would seem so,” I replied.
Bending over the table again, pencil poised, he murmured, “There’s some paints in that closet over there,” he mumbled, indicating the closed door opposite the table. “You might find Narnia if you get them for me.”
I snickered, his voice and dry jokes really hitting home after quite a while without hearing them. I moved away from the table towards the door and smiled over my shoulder, “Don’t get jealous then when Mr. Tumnus and I are partying it up satyr-style.”
I didn’t stop to see if he smiled at that as I ducked into the closet and grabbed a tray of paints. He hadn’t specified which colour he’d wanted. As I moved back over to the table, Casper looked up at me briefly, inclined his head and then returned his attention to whatever he was working on. I glanced own over his shoulder but could barely make out the vague pencil sketch on the canvas. I frowned and tilted my head from side-to-side but was still unable to discern what it could be. I opted to sit on the table and study him as he worked. I didn’t mind the silence; I just really needed the company of another person to distract me.
“You look like shit by the way,” Casper mumbled as his eyes scanned over the canvas.
I frowned at his comment, and was left speechless for a moment. “What?”
Casper’s grey eyes looked up at me and held my gaze for a moment. “You look like shit,” he repeated even more slowly. I frowned, insulted, and was about to protest again when he swiped his phone from the table, held it up and a ‘click’ went off. He turned the screen to me and I blinked in surprise at what I saw. “See,” he said, “Look like shit.”
I couldn’t deny it; I did in fact look like shit.
I hadn’t thought I’d looked that bad; my skin looked sallow, my features gaunt, heavy bags under my eyes and despite my shower I looked as though I was greasy with sweat. The only decent thing was my hair which didn’t look that clean, as I’d let it dry naturally. My jawline and cheekbones were more prominent and I was grateful my jaw wasn’t square like my dad’s. My light brown eyes were bloodshot. I grimaced at what I saw and even had to push the screen away so I didn’t have to look at it. “Alright, I get it. I look a little rough, so what?”
Casper’s bored expression turned slightly exasperated as he pocketed his phone and turned to me, tight-lipped and eyes narrowed. “You’ve been taking your pills regularly?” he asked tersely.
I nodded my head and he mirrored my movements, before his eyes fastened onto me again.
“When have you been sleeping? Late?”
I nodded, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
&nb
sp; “Eating?”
I gave a shrug and tilted my head to the side. He sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, smoothing it over, and taking the pencil back to the canvas, his back hunched over as he scratched away some extra lines. I felt suddenly annoyed at being so blatantly brushed aside. “Then I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Maybe you should go to Camilla first thing in the morning.”
“Maybe I should,” I murmured as I let my eyes wonder freely around the room. Off to one side of the classroom there were large cut-offs of MDF propped up against the wall. There were a good few of them stacked together. “What are those?” I asked, my feet guiding me towards them.
Without even glancing over his shoulder he said, “Those are the other back-drops I painted for our project.”
I stood there, looking at the boards; they almost came up to my shoulder. “Do they need to be such a large size?”
I turned in time to see Casper shrug, “Not really, but I like having as much detail as possible. Plus, boards that size could always be used for something else in the future, right? Why start small to begin with?”
I couldn’t fault his logic as I took a step back, leaning the first board forward so I could see the rest behind; there was a forest-scape with fir trees that had so much detail I was sure I could smell them, and a rocky stream with water so clear I was sure I saw my reflection smiling back at me.
“These are really good,” I stated as I admired the last one which was nothing more than a dark background with rain lashing down and two large empty dark holes that looked as though they needed to be filled. I could just about see the faint sketch lines against the darkness.
“Thanks,” he murmured as he straightened and wiped his hands down on a rag. He drifted over to where I stood, his gaze hard and intense on me. He seemed to just stand there, studying me for a little while before humming and reaching out. I jerked my head around and we both froze, our eyes locked together. I scanned his face, my throat feeling tight as I swallowed.
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