Page 59 of The Notecard
Classic. He smiles at me.
‘Come here often?’ he says.
I laugh. A silly laugh. The sort of laugh I’d do at school if the coolest boy inexplicably spoke to me.
‘You know, just to see you,’ I say, and I’m joking, of course I’m joking, but it’s too near the knuckle, and we both go red and it changes the atmosphere between us. Nick lights up a cigarette and we stand a metre apart. Separate sides of the stairs.
Whenever I’m with Nick, I feel like I have so much to say, but also that I don’t know what to say. We do witty banter really well. It’s sort of our thing. I love the banter, the backwards and forwards, but I also have so many questions I want to ask him. Why are you single? What were you doing with Molly? Do you really like me? What are your life goals? Do you dance at weddings? What’s your guilty pleasure? What’s your favourite band? Food? Flavour of crisp? Do you love coffee or LOVE coffee? Do you eat breakfast or are you one of those annoying people who say something like, I don’t really eat breakfast, I just have a cup of tea and maybe a yoghurt as if Yoplait is a meal? I love breakfast. A big, proper breakfast. I have lots of questions for Nick, but instead we do witty banter and leave all the big stuff alone.
‘Off out tonight?’ says Nick.
‘Hugh’s performing at a comedy club. You should come,’ I say, without thinking for a moment that him being there would change the entire night.
‘I can’t. My Mum and Michael are over, and I’m working early in the morning.’
‘Another time?’ I say, as though there will definitely be another time.
We smile at each other. There’s a pause, and we both take a drag on our cigarettes. I want to talk about the notecard. That moment that feels so long ago now. I said I liked him. The notecard I still have in my bedside drawer that said everything about how he feels about me. I want to talk about that, but I don't know if I can. I want to tell him that Harry from work meant nothing. It was a mistake. A drunken mistake that shouldn’t have happened, and I wish he hadn’t seen it. I want to say so much to Nick, but I don’t say any of it. It’s too hard.
‘My parents just FaceTimed me right after having sex,’ I say, and Nick laughs.
‘Jesus.’
‘I don’t think even Jesus saw anything that upsetting.’
‘And he was famously crucified,’ says Nick, and I can’t help but laugh.
I love laughing with Nick.
He makes me happy.
I take another drag on my cigarette.
I look up at the sky. It’s beautiful.
Nick
THEN
It’s an office in the hospital. It’s actually in its own building away from the main site. I don’t know why I came here. Mum knew someone and they suggested it. I almost didn’t come, but decided to give it a go. The woman is sitting opposite me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more uncomfortable. It’s just the two of us. You see psychiatry offices in films and on television, but this isn’t like that at all. On screen they’re always the tidiest of places with comfortable seating, books on shelves, and pieces of artwork dotted about. They’re relaxing spaces designed to help you feel at home. Neutral colours and perhaps a comforting smell to help you relax so you feel able to really open up. I’m surprised when I walk into Dr Wells’s office, and it’s a mess. Even the seating is shabby and the only plant in the corner looks dead. There’s no comforting smell either.
‘Do you want to talk about why you’re here today?’ says Dr Wells.
She’s in her fifties. She’s wearing trousers and a shirt, and there’s a stain on the shirt. She speaks in a calm, almost monotone voice. Bored. She sounds bored. Maybe it isn’t the furniture and decor that’s going to relax me but her voice.
‘I, umm,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve been having a difficult time.’
‘Has anything happened recently?’
My dad died. My father passed away from cancer and it’s ripped a hole in my heart, and I can’t seem to cope with it. Everything feels too fucking hard and too fucking heavy.
‘No. Not really.’
Dr Wells looks at me. She’s studying me. I can feel it. Her eyes look me over. I shift in my seat. It’s uncomfortable.
‘Why do you think you came here today, Nick?’
Mum made me come.
