Chapter Text
Beth rolled over in the dark and pulled the thin comforter up over her head. She’d tried to ignore it at first, hoping the regularity of the persistent tapping would help her to sleep through it. But then it would falter. Pause. Stop. Then resume just as insistent as before.
She sat up and looked at the wall clock, night-trained eyes just about making out its hands.
4.25 a.m.
Kicking off the comforter, she left the room and turned just in time to see another figure emerging into the corridor. Hannah - dressed in nightclothes, her eyes strangely small without her glasses - gave Beth a tired look through the darkness, frayed at the edges with exasperation. The pair hadn’t had much sleep the past few nights, but any potential irritation at the source remained unvoiced, the cause of it understood, expressed instead as a gentle, weary understanding.
“Your turn.” Hannah said quietly, “Definitely your turn.”
Beth opened her mouth to protest, but it never came. She gave her twin a tired nod and watched Hannah retreat to her room, the bedroom door clicking softly closed behind her.
The three siblings had their own bedrooms, the twins having claimed one each when they hit their teens, replacing bunk beds with their own treasure troves and identities. The entire east side of the top floor was theirs. It made for great nights with their mutual friends, but it was times like this - these late night awakenings, and on a school night no less - that made Beth wish, just briefly, that the rooms were a little more spread out.
She pushed the selfish thought away, feeling guilty for letting it cross her mind. He couldn’t help it.
Not fully awake, but not quite asleep, Beth walked the few steps to her brother’s door and pushed it open without resistance. Of all the bedrooms it was the only one without a lock.
The lights were off in Josh’s room, but the artificial glow of the three computer monitors stung her eyes for a moment. Grizzly movie posters were made all the more sinister in the gloom and the corners of the room were shrouded in darkness, home to strange shadows made from the piles of clothes on the floor and the comforter twisted on the empty bed. She was met by his silhouette at the desk, his back to her as the monitors flickered before him. The tinny sound of the music playing in his large headphones - a recent impulse purchase - was audible now, but was nothing compared to the relentless tapping of Josh’s sneaker-clad foot on the leg of the desk.
“Josh?”
He was oblivious to her presence; too busy scrolling down a webpage, eyes trained on the small text.
Beth approached slowly. "Josh?"
Still no reply.
With a gentle hand on the shoulder, she roused him. He didn't jump in shock, instead turning to her slowly as if coming out of a trance. Josh slipped his headphones down around his neck and the music grew a little louder, the singer's vocals audible now over the bass. The tapping stopped.
"Hey...?"
"Hey." Beth replied softly as Josh turned down the volume. "You're doing it again."
"I am?"
"Yeah." she said patiently, wearing a weary smile. It was hard to be mad at Josh when he was giving her that apologetic look. "Have you seen the time?"
Josh glanced at the clock on his monitor. "I had no idea." And then his focus was elsewhere, her presence gradually losing his attention, her brother clearly distracted by other thoughts. He turned back to the screens. "But it's good stuff." He nodded to himself, "Good stuff..." he trailed off distractedly.
"Are you alright?" she pried after a long moment.
"Bee, I'm fine, okay?"
But he didn't look fine. He looked sallow in the artificial light of the screens with his eyes wide awake despite the unacknowledged exhaustion marking them. Harsh and sickly. This was the side of her brother that few got to see. To the outside world he was Josh, with the occasional tick and the odd bad day, but times like this behind closed doors, he didn't seem quite so...
Normal.
She smothered the thought. That word.
“Okay.” Beth conceded, knowing she would get little more from him. She gave his shoulder a squeeze before retreating, stepping over and between the assorted mess of obstacles littering the floor.
“Bee?”
She glanced back over her shoulder, unsure if he’d actually spoken. He was looking at her now, chair turned around just enough to acknowledge her.
“Sorry for keeping you up."
She exhaled through a grateful smile. “Night, J.”
And then the headphones were back on, the conversation ended as her brother lost himself in whatever consumed him this time round.
With her head on the pillow, Beth felt herself begin to doze. But the respite was short-lived, the tapping through the walls returning some ten minutes later. Screwing her eyes shut and burying her head under the pillow, one thought dominated her sleep-addled brain.
It was definitely Hannah’s turn.
~*~
“And I know it might seem like I’m taking advantage of my dad’s connections, but wouldn’t it be shooting myself in the foot to ignore them? I mean, those are good connections. Very good connections. It’s like, cutting off my nose to spite my face or something, you know?”
Josh exhaled through a broad grin, satisfied, his mind and mouth already racing forward without him. “I’m not a spoilt little rich kid. I’d do it on my own, but it seems stupid not to use them, right? There are grants out there; crowdfunding, kickstarters, all kinds of options, and I’ve learned a lot. You could test me, I know the genre inside out, and I’m getting to grips with the industry too, seeing how it works.”
“And the leading man?” He pointed both thumbs at his chest, “Yours truly.” His gaze went skywards for a moment as he considered it. “Well, maybe. But can you imagine it? A real feature film, with all of us in it. Oh, I don’t expect it to be a blockbuster, or maybe I wouldn’t go the mainstream route. Not. At. First.” he said forcefully, punctuating each word with the side of his hand on the arm of the leather chair, “Maybe start with an indie flick, right? Get it out there on the festival circuit, see if it gets any bites. Then we go big.”
He looked at her expectantly as his enthusiasm was met with a silence that filled the large office.
Dr North’s manicured hands, which had been loosely clasped together in quiet patience atop her notebook till now, found the arms of her own significantly more expensive chair.
“This is a safe space, Joshua.” she began slowly, “You said before that you sometimes feel like you need to fill silences, or be ‘switched on’, as you put it. You don’t need to do that here.” She gave him a soft, slight smile. “You can be yourself.”
“I thought I was being…” He shook his head irritably, shaking away the spike of impatience. He smiled, thin-lipped, annoyance fading as quickly as it had flared. “Okay.”
“Good.” She clasped her hands again and flexed her ankle, the toe of one kitten heel stopping to point at the carpet. “You also explained that sometimes the thoughts you have can be overwhelming, and we discussed ways to avoid and cope with situations and ideas that make you feel that way.”
Josh nodded, jaw working at a well-chewed wad of gum. The subject had come up in their third session, nearly two months ago, just after a particularly bad episode.
“Do you feel that way now?”
“No.” Josh replied wearily.
“Okay.”
He watched her jot something in her notebook.
Dr North had become his latest therapist some three months ago, when his last two - a rather fusty older man called Dr Purkiss and the ever-so-charming Dr Williams - had recommended her before moving across the country to start her own practice. She was his fourth in all (fourth time’s a charm!) and so far it hadn’t been too painful. The first sessions were a transitional, rather tedious exercise in recapping and getting to know each other, but from what he’d learned about her from Google searches, she was well-known and respected in her field. A specialist in adolescent psychology and substance abuse, apparently, with more than a few published papers to her name.
As for the doctor as a person?
Josh watched her tuck an errant strand of brown hair behind her ear.
She was attractive enough, but in that rather detached, older woman sort of way. She was in her early forties, but kept herself in shape as far as he could tell. Married, if the wedding band was anything to go by. Freshly cut shoulder length hair, not dyed. Manicured nails. Snappy suit dress and blazer combo. He could take it or leave it.
Finished, she closed the notebook.
“How are your friends?”
He knew this tack: lighten the tone, put him at ease, and help him relax.
Catch him off guard.
And yet, he wasn’t so adverse to it today. Fine. He’d bite.
“They’re good. Well.” he corrected himself.
That much was true. The last few weeks had been good. He’d been out a lot spending more time with the few guys and girls in his class who had time for him. There had been little dramas here and there, but thankfully none that he was directly involved in. Besides, he’d been busy with his own plans. He’d show the others eventually, but what good was it tasting a half-baked cake?
“They’re well.” he confirmed, and left it at that.
“Good.” Dr North paused, brushing some imaginary dust from her dress and sitting up a little straighter. “Now, I have to ask you something that might make you feel uncomfortable. Is that alright?”
Here it comes.
Josh shrugged. “Does it matter either way?”
She smiled patiently and pressed on. "Have you seen anything, Joshua?"
The question was innocent enough, but the connotations within this office only meant one thing.
“You mean have I seen anything that isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think I would’ve mentioned that? I--” he paused, face creasing with frustration and voice laced with exasperation, “How would I even know?”
“Okay. Have you experienced anything that you suspect isn’t actually happening?” she calmly rephrased the question.
“No.”
“Alright.” She jotted something in her notebook, satisfied. “That’s very good to know. Thank you.”
“Yeah…” he sighed, fingers picking at the armrest.
Baby steps and kid gloves. Some sessions she would delve right into his head and prod and probe, but today she was being more cautious, if he was reading her correctly. He wasn’t sure why, but this approach made him feel uneasy. At least he knew where he stood when she was being direct. He chewed absently on his thumbnail, barely noticing as a strip of skin came away with what little nail remained, his attention then returning to the gum resting between his molars.
Referring to her notes, Dr North broached her next question. "Last time we discussed your triggers and how important it is to establish a good sleeping pattern and a predictable routine.” She cleared her throat. “Your mother tells me that she's concerned about your sleeping patterns. Do you feel like you’ve been sleeping enough?”
Josh exhaled loudly. Of course his mother had said something. She loved involving herself and putting a red flag on anything that might be just a little out of the ordinary. She worried too much. And so here they were again, treading the same old ground. Last session. In the past. You said before.
“I can’t force myself to sleep.” He gave her a tight smile. “Besides, sleeping pills made me sick last time, remember?” He smirked. “Check your notes.”
“I remember.” She removed her glasses thoughtfully. “Do you remember what I said? About sleep deprivation being not just a symptom, but also a trigger?”
Josh waved away the comment, his gaze on the carpet. “Yeah, sure.”
Stress management and coping mechanisms. Seemingly endless stacks of half-finished mood journals. Sleep patterns and predictable daily routines. He was well-versed in social rhythm therapy, thank you very much.
The silence opened up again. Josh shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Is something troubling you?”
He exhaled loudly again. The chair was too damn stiff. It had no give in it at all. How was he supposed to get comfortable?
“No.” he replied shortly.
“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.” she stated, her voice softening in an attempt to coax a little more trust from him.
But it failed.
“Honestly? I’m starting to feel antagonised.” he said, meeting her eyes, feeling bold enough to lean forward in his chair, “So what if I’m not sleeping much? I don’t need to. I’m not tired.”
She was beginning to make him feel like a petulant child pleading with his mother to let him stay up past his bedtime. The thought made an unpleasant knot tighten in his gut and darkened his expression. “It’s fine.” he said coldly, crossing his arms as he looked out of the window.
Dr North wore her poker face well, but he noticed the slight hint of a thought pass behind her eyes. Whatever. She could think what she liked. He was fine. Sure, he wasn’t sleeping as much as other people, but he wasn’t feeling that particular need. What good was it lying there in the dark for hours when he could be doing something productive?
And it was such a good idea. His friends would totally flip out. And the beauty of it was that it wasn't unachievable, and he could custom write it so everyone had a role. Nobody would be left out.
He realised belatedly that she was watching him again. How long had he fallen silent for?
"I'm sorry. I--"
"No apologies required in here." she said reassuringly, "Our talks are for you."
Perhaps she wasn't so bad. Maybe. But if he was honest, he'd rather be anywhere else right now. Somewhere alone, to mull over the many thoughts vying for his attention.
"I'm not really feeling it today." he admitted.
"No?"
"No... I--"
A harsh buzz interrupted him. Dr North glanced over at her desk. The little red bulb on the intercom was lit up.
"Please, continue."
Before Josh could say a word, the intercom buzzed again, twice.
"Excuse me." she said apologetically, getting to her feet and walking to the desk. With her back to Josh, she pressed the button and spoke quietly, "I'm with a patient."
"I'm so sorry to interrupt, but it's urgent."
"Urgent?"
"Mister Brustman is on line one. His daughter...” came the tinny response from her PA, and the lack of elaboration coupled with Dr North’s reaction signaled the gravity of such a seemingly asinine statement.
Dr North paused uncertainly. “...I’ll be right through.”
She turned back to him. “I’m very sorry, Joshua. I have to take this call.” she looked distracted, then composed herself. “Please take this time for some quiet introspection. I…” She smiled. “I’ll be back shortly.”
And then she was gone, the large wooden door to her office closing behind her with a certain finality.
Josh slouched down in the increasingly uncomfortable chair and let his eyes roam around the office. It was fairly minimal. A lonely yucca beside the window. No artwork on the walls. Two large bookcases flanked the doctor’s desk, leaving just enough wall space between them to showcase an array of framed diplomas. However, the few items furnishing the room screamed their expense. He could certainly see where his parents’ money had gone.
His mind threatened to wander again.
Quiet introspection, huh?
He wrinkled his nose. The gum had lost its flavour a long while back, reduced to a rather sad inconvenience. He scanned the room and spotted a simple black wastebasket beside the desk. Stretching his arms up above his head to unknot his shoulders, he got to his feet and spat the gum into his hand before dropping it in the trash.
University of California. The American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology. Subspeciality in Addiction Psychology. Stanford University Medical Center. Scholar in Psychiatry.
Josh read the diplomas on the wall then leaned against the desk, bored. His fingers brushed against leather. He looked down.
Her notebook, beneath his fingertips.
He glanced at the door.
What do you care?
Perhaps some other time he’d be somewhat more apprehensive, but it didn’t seem to matter. What was the worst that could happen?
He listened for footsteps. Nothing.
The notes were about him anyway. What’s the very worst she could do about it?
Fuck it, do it. Go for it.
Picking up the book, he perched on the edge of the desk, the backs of his thighs pressing against it through his jeans. The cliché about doctors’ handwriting didn’t apply in her case. Clear, concise sentences and bullet points marked the paper. He flicked through the pages until he found the most recent entry, neatly marked with that day’s date in the upper right corner.
Joshua Washington - Session Eight
Yeah, this seemed about right. He skimmed the fragmented notes, tripping over the words and having to reread them several times. For all the writing she seemed to do in their sessions, there was very little there, but it said enough.
Has started another project
Increased sense of grandiosity
Rapid cycling? Potential progression from hypomania to mania?
Fast thoughts/speech
Inflated self-esteem
Recommendation: Lithobid - increase 300mg 3x per day to 900mg 3x per day - temp to perm measure
He felt sick.
Another increase? Sure, today hadn’t gone as well as perhaps it could have, but had it gone that badly? In a perverse way, it felt like he’d been lied to. Betrayed. Almost like he was being punished for feeling good. She thanked him and reassured him, all the while scribbling her stupid fucking suggestions in her little book. Increased sense of grandiosity? Inflated self-esteem? When did self-esteem become a bad thing? What did...
The desire to fling the book across the room was strong, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he reached into his pocket and switched on his phone. Once powered on, he opened the camera and took a photo of the offending page. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the right thing to do, like he was catching the lie. Owning it.
Where the fuck did she get off putting labels on things? Labels, labels, always labels. It seemed unfair that the slightest outburst - the kind that coming from any other boy his age would be dismissed as a teen tantrum - was picked apart and analysed like a crime scene.
He dropped the notebook on the desk and began to pace, too wrapped up in a tangle of unpleasant emotions to notice he was even doing it. He took a deep breath, fists balling up.
She didn’t get it. That was the problem. She wasn’t properly understanding him. If he could get his point across, she’d get it. She wasn’t hearing him.
“You will never be well or cured, Joshua. But we can help you live a normal life. Manage. Cope.”
“Shut up…” he spat angrily at the memory.
Dr Purkiss had been honest with him that day, hadn’t he? The killer of all hope. What a cheery old man. His parents had liked him though, hadn’t they?
He laughed bitterly.
Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t even matter. Don’t think about it. Don’t.
When Dr North eventually returned, Josh was standing by the window, looking out at the traffic far below. With another apology and a promise of a longer session next time (please apologise to your mother for me), they returned to their seats.
Sitting down once more, Josh felt strangely calm. He knew now. He knew where they stood, what the little smiles meant. But she didn’t know that. Now he had the advantage.
Dr North checked her watch. “Is there anything else you would like to talk about today before our session ends?”
He pondered the question. “I dreamed I cut off my fingers with scissors. Thumb and pinky.” He mimed scissors with his index and middle fingers, cutting the air, tired eyes lighting up. “Snip snip. Didn’t hurt.” He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair and a thin, unpleasant smile spread across his face. “What does that mean, Freud?”
~*~
The traffic passed by the car window in one long, ignored blur. The air conditioning was irritatingly loud, but Josh had managed to drown it out.
“How was it today?”
So many questions. Always questions.
He didn’t even bother to look at his mother from the front passenger seat, temple pressed against the window. “I don’t have to talk about it. We agreed.”
“I...”
There was an anxious pause. Urgh, it was almost worse than the prying.
“It was fine.” he replied as levelly as he could. Thankfully, it seemed to appease her.
As they stopped at a set of lights, his phone vibrated against his leg. Since turning it back on, it had buzzed several times, but he hadn’t bothered to check it. He took it out. Nineteen notifications from one conversation. There were a lot of conversation threads there, the others quiet for now. This one had just three members. He opened it.
___
Chris
Lol yeah dude
Sam
I would've got that!
Haha
True story
Mind blown right?
Chris
Ofc you would 😜
How is that even a thing?
Chris
Movies tonight at 8
Romero marathon
Me and Ash
🍬 🍟 😨 😨 😨 😨 📽 🧟
You guys game?
Sam
Ha no
I'm washing my hair
Thoroughly
Thanks though x
Chris
No worries x
You in J?
...J?
J J J J J
Jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
Sam
Please reply to him before I block you both
Chris
😜
Seriously J you in?
I'm buying
---
Josh’s thumb hovered over the keyboard. He would do anything right now to escape the mood that had swallowed him up. He could go along and sit as a silent third wheel, letting himself become engrossed in the flashing images and outdated special effects. He could use the friendly voices. He could use the distraction. Needed it, almost. But he couldn’t face it. It seemed impossible.
No, he would go home and bury himself in the project. Even thinking about it was helping. Yes, he’d do that. Go home and throw himself at it.
---
Not today
---
Barely five seconds passed before the replies began to arrive.
---
Chris
K
Or we can pizza at yours?
Bro time
Ash won't mind. We can go another night. It's on for a few wks
?
Sam
I can put hairwashing on hold for that
Honorary bro
You said so
Chris
Oh that's how it is?
Sam
Ofc 😋
---
Josh sighed as the anxiety threatened to bubble up too high.
No.
Nope.
---
Not today
Sorry
---
He felt shitty for it, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He forced himself to add one last comment.
---
Have fun
---
There was a significantly longer pause before the next batch of replies.
---
Chris
Ok dude
Call if you wanna chat k?
Anytime
x
Sam
💕 xxx
---
“Do you want to pick up some food on the way home?”
“I’m not hungry.” Josh replied vaguely, shoving the phone back in his pocket, gaze drifting to the outside world once more.
An anxious frown graced his mother’s face as the car sped on, leaving the city and the doctor’s office behind them.