Chapter 2
Rose
It took three days for him to read it, and another five for him to reply.
Back in a week – moving into the old house now it’s empty. Sorry I didn’t tell you – figured Fallon would broadcast it. X
I was too busy to reply, on a shift at work when the message came through and dealing with a patient I had concerns about. I had concerns about all of them, none of them were with us because they were well, and all of them had families that were struggling too.
This patient was different though. A thirteen-year-old girl who was threatening suicide, the shallow cuts on her arms and a mother for whom nothing was good enough or quick enough or senior enough.
It wasn’t the first time her daughter, Carly, had been admitted, and there had already been more than one complaint against staff in the outpatients’ department.
The mother was a force to be reckoned with, especially for her daughter.
Four hours after my shift ended, I left the hospital, fatigued and in need of something that looked like lightness. I took a crowded tube home, ignoring my phone and the ten messages waiting for my attention because I needed to decompress first.
Harriet was out, the apartment quiet and tidy because my friend liked organisation. I left my phone in my bag and set to work making something edible, or finding what Harriet had left in the fridge – a spice vegetable stew that filled the kitchen with warmth as it heated up.
I would miss her when she moved. Life would be different, but that didn’t mean it would be worse.
There would be trips to Stratford-Upon-Avon and places nearby, weekend stays in the country and another place to explore.
She was enthusiastic about the new job and the move, looking at cute little cottages in the surrounded countryside to the town, including one near the house where Anne Hathaway – Shakespeare’s wife – had grown up.
I sat down with a large mug of tea and a piece of cake that was still fresh and gooey with sugar, eventually looking at my phone.
I sent quick responses to Fallon and Erin, confirming I could meet for breakfast in the morning before work, and then dealt with the latest family saga which involved an upcoming trip to my grandparents’ house in Oxfordshire for my uncle Max’s birthday.
Then there was the Eliza crisis – an ongoing issue she was having with her flatmate who was also the girlfriend of one of the other cousins.
It was all very draining.
I came to Carter’s message last. Deliberately.
Back in a week – moving into the old house now it’s empty. Sorry I didn’t tell you – figured Fallon would broadcast it. X
He had a point about Fallon; she wasn’t known for holding onto a tale that could entertain someone else. I wondered what to respond, aware that he was probably sleeping or on shift, or out saying his goodbyes.
We hadn’t seen each other much – been a busy run up to Christmas. How come you decided to come back to London? I thought California was the winning choice x
I was surprised to see dots moving almost immediately after I pressed send. If truth be told, I didn’t know Carter anymore. He’d been living in America for the last five years, and in that time I’d seen him on maybe six occasions. I’d changed a lot in those years, and I imagined he had too.
Not all friendships could handle that change.
I didn’t know enough people in Cali and I missed mudlarking. And you lot. It’s been too long. I know I was out of touch before Christmas – had a shit ton going on. Can we get dinner when I’m back? X
I’d taught myself to not ignore my gut. It didn’t mean that my catastrophiing would be right – it rarely was – but it did mean something was off-kilter and wasn’t following the usual, secure patterns.
I’d been diagnosed as autistic when I was nine, more out of my mother’s curiosity rather than a deficit because I managed well in school and charmed adults, but I struggled with other kids.
I was the one who had to be dragged to birthday parties and preferred a quiet room with a book or seven and a couple of soft, heavy blankets to any form of social activity.
It took me half an hour to get out of a bath and an hour to get out of bed – transitions were an issue, but I had coping mechanisms that were successful.
The diagnosis meant nothing to me; I liked how I was even if I found the world confusing sometimes, but it helped my family to understand me – that I hated surprises and I wasn’t shy – I just liked not being in the centre of everything.
I would read too much into things sometimes, a pattern I now had control of, usually – but I knew to trust that feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
Carter wasn’t acting quite right.
Dinner would be great. We can set something up when you’re settled. It’ll be great to have you back X
I didn’t have to wait long again for a reply.
Let’s get a date in before my life’s swamped in other shit. How about a week on Thursday? X
But you’re not back until the Wednesday X
Plenty of time to get settled in! Most of my crap’s being delivered on the Friday, so I won’t have much to unpack. Where do you want to go? My treat for being so shit at letting you know about the move X
That was an easy question to answer and I wasn’t turning down a free meal, although arguably, I’d been just as bad at keeping in touch.
Sasso, the little Italian round the back of the Attic Bookshop. I’ll book it for 7.30 X
Excellent. Something to look forward to – can’t tell you how mad things have been. Might even get chance to catch up on shift – did Fallon tell you I’m split between her hospital and yours? X
No, Fallon had not told me that. It wouldn’t have been a purposeful admission – she’d also been picking up too many hours at work and her great-uncle had just passed away, not unexpectedly, but she was the one sorting out his estate and organising paperwork.
She didn’t. That will be fun – we can debate how best to treat patients. X
I was often called on for patients where mental health was as big a factor as a physical issue that needed surgery.
Some critically ill patients understandably struggle with their emotions and mood, and some patients whose primary area of need could require medical intervention through surgery, might need a consult if they’d self-harmed or attempted suicide.
Psychologists and surgeons didn’t always see eye-to-eye, although we termed it professional discourse.
I forgot you’re one of those. On shift – my last one. See you in a few days X
I responded with a smiley face, unable to not have the last word, and distracted myself by phoning Eliza because it was a lot quicker than texting, before subjecting myself to a night of what’s really going on with Carter and was I overthinking it?
I wasn’t meant to be in work that Thursday.
I’d done six straight days of shifts in excess of twelve hours, so I should’ve been on a rest day, but due to sickness – the flu was doing its annual march around the wards – and a spike in admissions, I’d been begged to ‘just do a few hours’ which meant I didn’t leave myself a full hour to get ready to see Carter.
Why I needed to get ready was beyond rational understanding.
I’d known him since I was twelve. He’d been my friend through many poor fashion choices, boyfriend choices, experiments with alcohol and the era when I’d been exceptionally good at fainting – a period of time that coincided with my first set of formal exams. I could turn up in torn jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt and he wouldn’t blink.
But for some reason I was jittery, unable to concentrate, my head whirring through a multitude of possible conversations so I had a flow chart to use if I got a little stuck.
What was protocol for talking to a friend you haven’t properly seen for half a decade?
What happened if we were both so different we didn’t have anything in common anymore – like chess and reading had been forgotten by him?
I paused myself mid-panic, breathed, reminded myself that’d I’d witnessed Carter at age sixteen stung on the bottom by an angry hornet and then proceeding to strip off and run stark bollock naked into my grandparents’ fishing pond.
It had been a highlight of my summer and the first time I’d seen a man’s penis. Those were the things you tended to remember.
Jeans, a cosy jumper because winter had taken root, and biker boots, with a padded coat and a beanie hat solved the dilemma. Sasso was dark and traditionally Italian rather than bougie and hip, and this wasn’t a date.
I was less nervous on dates.
My last relationship had ended sourly. I’d been seeing Kai for over two years and we were probably at the point where a couple would be thinking about moving in together, but I’d had no inclination to do so.
I was happy seeing him two, maybe three, times a week; staying at his so I could leave when it suited; and not really having too much to do with each other’s friends – it was easier if we kept it separate.
With hindsight, things should’ve changed twelve months before if things were going to work.
It was all very convenient and allowed me to set boundaries, which were all accepted at the time, but Kai ended up growing distant and telling me he needed to cut ties due to self-preservation.
Apparently, I didn’t give him ‘enough’ of myself, which was affecting his self-esteem.
I was more irritated than upset, then I just felt lonely, my routine altered, something missing. I’d gone on a few dates, but none had made me nervous.
Carter was already in the restaurant when I got there, annoyingly early as always. He stood up as I entered, tall, broad shouldered and dimpled when he smiled. He beamed at me, opening his arms for a hug, which I stepped into.
“You’re more gorgeous than ever.”