Chapter 26
Olive
It doesn’t take long for the others to get wind of the fact that Colin and I .
. . Well, that we don’t hate each other as much as we used to.
There are a few days when the stuff with my parents is enough of a distraction, but then Tori starts asking questions.
I deny it all, but constantly acting like I don’t care about Colin at midnight parties and in the dining room is no fun.
Especially not when Tori and Sinclair are winching, and Emma and Henry are happy together. I want to be happy too. With Colin.
But I’m not happy. It wasn’t easy to face that, but Mum and Dad splitting up was the last straw.
One afternoon, after a physio session when I constantly felt on the verge of tears, I found myself—on the spur of the moment—outside Ms. Vail’s office.
It’s a long time since my heart’s pounded as fast as it was doing while I wrestled with myself over whether to knock or walk away.
But I did it in the end, and since then, one thing’s just followed another.
Ms. Vail is nice; I knew that. What I didn’t know was that there was no need for me to spend time before our first conversation coming up with explanations for why I need help or what my problems are.
She has a bottomless supply of skillful questions.
She always succeeds in finding out what I want to say, even when I don’t know myself.
And it actually helps to speak to her. She’s impartial, she untangles the threads of thought in my head, and she doesn’t make me feel guilty.
I wish Colin could bring himself to go to her too, because I’ve been worrying about him since finding out what he gets up to with his lighter.
But it would feel wrong to tell Ms. Vail about him.
He needs to do that for himself. When he’s ready. I only hope that’s soon.
The same goes for Grace—she’s seemed more cheerful lately, but I’m still anxious about her. I don’t think she’s lost any more weight. That might be down to Gideon, who watches her like a hawk in the dining room to make sure she’s eating. I can see that, even from a distance.
There’s another thing I don’t like, and that’s being set back a year.
I wish I hadn’t mentioned it to Ms. Vail, but maybe it’s for the best. She immediately switched tack to helping me figure out why I’m so desperate to rejoin my friends.
Whether it isn’t more about a general fear of change and of not being in control.
And sadly, I have to admit that going back up simply wouldn’t make sense.
I’ve already let the tutoring from Henry slide because it’s hard enough just to keep up in the lower sixth now.
It feels like failure, seeing that I’ve already done all this work once, but Ms. Vail helps me get my head around the idea that measuring myself against other people isn’t helpful.
The fire was a trauma, and I have to admit to that fact.
And while the others get to focus fully on their schoolwork, my mind and body are mainly preoccupied with surviving and getting through the day.
Everyone else has an advantage over me. Accepting that isn’t half as straightforward as it sounds, but maybe I’m at least moving toward it.
These are crazy days. Lots of classes, lots of prep, creeping out after wing time for walks with Colin. It’s become a habit. We never know where we’re heading. We just know that we’ll find out together.
Tonight, we end up in that room near the theater, far enough away from all the dorm rooms that Colin can play the dusty old piano while I remember what he told me the first time I saw him there.
That he wants to study psychology and be a music therapist. I can really see it for him, but all the same, I think he needs some therapy of his own first. Not that I say so, or not in that room at least. Later on, in my room, I start to tell him about my sessions with Ms. Vail.
“So you’re going regularly now?” Colin asks, lying beside me. He isn’t looking at me because he’s too busy winding my hair around his fingers.
“Yeah.”
“So what’s it like?” He glances up. “Does she ask annoying questions?”
“Constantly,” I say, straight-faced. Colin is taken aback. “But I think that’s what you see her for.”
“Sounds stressful.”
“Hey, you want to be the one asking questions and analyzing things, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I prefer that perspective to the patient’s.”
“Maybe they’re both important.”
He doesn’t answer straightaway. “Maybe,” he says in the end, looking away again.
“And you really won’t even give it a try?”
“Olive . . .”
“No, I know. You said you don’t want to talk about it, but I want to talk about it, OK?”
“Why would you want to talk about it?”
“Because I’m worried about you.”
He laughs quietly. “Nobody needs to worry about me.”
“I’m not so sure of that, Colin.”
He doesn’t speak for a while. Then: “I haven’t used the lighter for a week, OK?”
“For a week?” I repeat.
He nods, and he knows as well as I do that it’s longer than a week since I caught him in his room. Much longer. I feel the urge to ask him why he didn’t say anything. But I know that won’t do any good. He’s telling me now, and I should take that.
So instead, I ask, “Where?”
He’s fighting himself. “Ankle.”
“Show me.”
“No.”
“OK, is it bad?”
“No, it . . . it’s almost gone.”
“So you’re going to need to do it again soon, then?” I guess.
He says nothing, caught out.
“Colin . . .”
“I’m trying to quit. I really am.” He looks up. “It’s just . . . My kid sister knows about us. But I promised her I’d be home soon, so now I’m scared she’s freaking out.”
I gulp, but my throat is dry. “Do you still want to go back to New York as soon as possible?” I ask.
Colin sighs quietly. “I want to be with you, OK? That’s no secret.
But Cleo . . . My parents are never there, all she has is school and sometimes going to her friend’s.
But friendships at Ainslee, I dunno . . .
it’s not like what you guys have here. It’s all surface-level, and Cleo doesn’t know any different.
What kind of life is that? I wanted to be there, to take care of her, to make sure things work out better for her than for me, you know? ”
I nod, because I get that. “What if you asked her about starting here too?”
Colin’s eyebrows contract. “At Dunbridge?”
“Yeah, why not? Then you could be together and . . . I’m sure she’d have a great time.”
Colin’s hesitation speaks volumes. And I feel hurt because I’m suddenly not so sure how much he really wants to be with me. He’s from New York; he wants to go back there. He’s only in Scotland because he can’t get away. I can’t think about what he’d do if he had a choice.
“It’s not that easy,” he says, and his voice sounds knackered. “You don’t understand—nobody understands. It’s . . . everything’s kind of fucked up right now.”
For a while, I lie next to him in silence. He glances at me, then looks away again hastily. I want to know what he’s thinking. Or maybe I don’t, because I’m afraid inside his head is a pretty dark place.
“But Colin, you know that things will get better again,” I say in the end. “Don’t you?”
He doesn’t answer, just breathes heavily, which means that all this is getting to be too much for him, so he’s covering that up by being irritable.
“Fantino . . .”
“Things aren’t going to get better again, Olive Garden. Not when you’re me.”
“You can’t know that.”
“You neither.”
I don’t speak for a while. This conversation is heavy, and I don’t like where it’s going. “Colin, you . . . you sound kind of bleak.”
He laughs quietly. “That’s probably because I am kind of bleak.”
“How bleak?”
“A bit.”
“Colin, you should see Ms. Vail.”
“That won’t help.”
“Please.” I put my hand on his face and turn it so that he has to look at me. “I know it feels hopeless, but things will get better. There’ll be good times ahead. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t promise things you don’t know for certain, Olive.”
“Right,” I say. Nothing more.
He exhales slowly.
“You don’t need to tell me I’m annoying. I know that already.”
His face is hard, because this is a hard conversation, but I can see in his eyes that it was right to have it. “Thanks for not stopping being annoying,” he says, to my surprise.
“I do my best.”
“I know.” It always does something to me when Colin Fantino takes my hand, but today, it’s special.
I get goose bumps, but luckily, I’m wearing one of his jumpers so he can’t see.
I turn my head until my brow is resting on his shoulder, and then we fall silent.
I know him well enough that, even though it feels like I didn’t try hard enough, I’m certain I won’t get anywhere with him by forcing him.
I can’t make Colin go to Ms. Vail. He has to want it for himself.
I really think psyching yourself up the first time is the hardest part.
I basically look forward to my sessions with her now, however tiring they are.
Not physically, but emotionally, and not just the time in her office.
The real work begins afterward, when I’m sitting in my room, staring into space as I think about what she said.
Not that Ms. Vail actually says much. She mainly asks questions, which is irritating, but still better than being told what to do.
Later this afternoon, I spend my whole appointment with her wondering how I can talk to her about something that’s not really anything to do with me. I don’t pluck up the courage until I’ve stood up and got my hand on the door handle.
Ms. Vail looks up as I turn back to her. “Is there something else, Olive?”
“Yes, I . . .” I hesitate. “There is one more thing.”
“I’m listening.” Ms. Vail smiles.
I take a deep breath. “If you knew someone who’s . . . under a lot of stress . . . and you were worried about them, what would you do?”
Nothing at all changes in Ms. Vail’s face but I’m sure she’s running her mind over the list of people I’ve mentioned in our conversation. I hope she doesn’t think of Colin, because I already feel as if I’ve betrayed him by talking about him when I know he doesn’t want me to.
“I’d speak to the person,” she says, “and ask them if they want any help.”
“He doesn’t. Er, that is, they don’t.”
“I see,” Ms. Vail says. “Sometimes people are under so much pressure that they’re not able to take responsibility for themselves anymore. Do you think this person still can?”
OK. I should have expected her to ask something like that. And I know that what I say now matters. If I say no, she’ll want a name, and then Colin will be sat here against his will sooner than he can blink. But I’m not going to lie. Not about something this important.
I pause, listen to my heart, and think about the last few weeks. And then I say, “Yes, I think so.”
“Good. You don’t have to hit rock bottom before you can get help. If this person has forgotten that, I’d just remind them of it.”
“What if they don’t want to hear it?”
“Then I’d try to be there for them, and listen to them.”
I nod.
“And if the person ever changes their mind, I’d offer to come with them to talk to somebody, if it would help.”
“OK, I . . . Thank you, Ms. Vail.”
“Not a problem.”
I give a brief smile and turn back to the door, but she hasn’t finished. “Olive, if you’re worried that anything’s going to happen, you can always call me.” She sounds serious. “Any time, day or night. We’ll always find a solution, and you’re welcome to tell your person that, if you like.”