Shoving the doona down, I blink as my eyes adjust to the light, then I sit up and call my doctor’s office. “Hi Mary, it’s KyleJohnson. I have an appointment booked with Dr. Riley in four weeks, but I really need to see her sooner.”
“Kyle, you don’t sound too good. How urgent is it?”
“Not sure,” I admit. “I’m not making good choices and I’m having trouble sleeping.”
Mary puts me on hold, and I take the chance to blow my nose and wipe my eyes.
Mary is back on the line within a minute. “Kyle, the best Dr. Riley can do is Monday week at 5:00 PM. She apologises for not being able to see you sooner, but she has an interstate conference next week. She wanted me to check that you’ll contact emergency services if you need to.”
“I will, I promise. Thank you and please thank Dr. Riley too. See you Monday week.”
After ending the call, I check the time. Thank God another parent is dropping Lu home after dance class today. I curl up under the doona again and try to block everything out.
I’m being shaken.
“Dad? Are you okay?”
Forcing my eyes open, Lu slowly comes into focus. She’s seated on the edge of the bed, looking down at me with concern.
“Dad, are things bad? Are you having a depressive episode?”
It’s been so long since she’s spoken to me like this—with tenderness and patience. Lu would’ve only been nine or ten years old the last time I experienced a full-blown depressive episode. For years I’ve been existing in a state of numbness, walking through my days without really feeling anything.
But this feels different. I had been more concerned about mania—up until now.
“I don’t know, pumpkin,” I say honestly. “I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Riley in about a week. She’ll be able to help me sort it out. Did you have a good day at school?” I pull myself up to a sitting position, but my body is heavy and lethargic.
“Yeah, it was okay. Dad…” She pauses, eyes scanning my face. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve beendifferentthe last few weeks.”
I weigh up telling the truth versus lying and decide being honest is the best option. “I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in twenty years,” I explain. “Someone I cared for when I was a teenager. I guess it brought up a lot of old memories. Stuff I should’ve dealt with a long time ago.”
“Someone that you once loved. A boy?” she asks tentatively.
I smile. She’s perceptive and sensitive even though she’s been trying her damnedest to come across as anything but these last couple of years.
“Yes. He was my first love. I was about your age when we first got together. We went through a lot of bad stuff. His foster dad was a sorry excuse for a human being, and we had to hide our relationship for a long time.”
“What was his name?” she asks.
“Brendan.”
Lu tilts her head to one side, contemplating. “Is he the boy in the photos?”
I frown. “What photos?”
“Not long ago I saw you looking at photos of you and another boy on your phone. You looked really young.”
Picking up my phone from the bedside table, I open the hidden photo folder. A picture of me and Bren fills the screen. We’resmiling, cheeks pressed together, and arms slung around each other’s shoulders. I face the screen towards Lu. “Is this what you saw?”
“Yeah, can I?” She holds out her hand for the phone.
“Of course, I have a few.” I scroll to the next photo, a shot of Bren on our beach, smiling at the camera, sun shimmering on the water behind him. He looks happy and free, something he often wasn’t back then.
I pass the phone to her. She studies it for a moment, then swipes forwards and backwards between the five photos. “You must have loved him a lot to still think about him after all these years.”
