‘So firstly, lie back. I’d like you to close your eyes for me.’
I do as I’m told, propping some cushions behind me. He goes quiet for a moment and I flick one eye open to keep watch, like a kid checking to see if their parent is still in the room at bedtime.
‘The eyes, Lucy.’
‘Sorry, Cosmo.’
He then hits a gong. Don’t laugh. I expect ninjas to run in. They don’t, which is disappointing.
‘Rest your hands beside you, inhale. I want you to tense your body as you do, all the way down to your fingertips, and then release all that tension as you exhale. On my count. One, two, three…’
I do exactly as I’m told but I won’t lie, this does feel like the sort of exercise one would teach a pregnant woman. Breaaaattthheee. Puuuuuussssh. Releeeeeease. Don’t fart, Lucy. I can’t say any of this out loud, can I? I need to at least try. For Farah. For me. For all the people who are investing time in trying to help me get better. I pout my lips and exhale. Is he doing the same? I won’t open my eyes but I hope he’s not reading from a script and checking his Facebook at the same time.
‘Clear your mind, I just want you to focus all your energy on your breathing.’
This feels like the very opposite of what we need, right? The mind is already very clear, like a blank page. We need to fill in the gaps? OK. Breathe. I’m glad I wore a comfy bra as my chest is doing a lot of work here. I should have done a wee before I came in here. Breeeeathe. It’s actually not awful. Just don’t fall asleep, right?
‘Can you hear my voice?’ Cosmo says gently.
‘Uh-huh,’ I reply sleepily. It is a lovely voice, a bedtime story kinda voice. Not that I want to be in a bed with him. He can read to me and leave. I’m not sure what I expect now. You see people being hypnotised in crime programmes, everything comes back to them in vivid flashbacks until the moment when they see the killer’s face and then they scream and collapse in tears onto the arm of a very attractive TV detective. Nothing is playing back to me like that, just the monochrome fuzz of the insides of my eyelids.
‘You’re in a safe place, Lucy. Still focus on your breathing and my voice.’
Don’t focus on your bladder. I like the way he keeps saying my name. Luuuuuccyy.
‘I don’t want you to engage in anything new. I don’t want you to think about the accident or the present moment but I want you to reconnect to what you can remember. Tell me about you.’
OK. My name is Lucy. That’s a good place to start. I’m seventeen. Does he want detail? Does he want to know what I’m wearing? The fact I’m not a huge fan of tomatoes or golf? It’s a terrible excuse for a sport. I remember my sisters. Mum, Dad, school, my bedroom.
‘I want you to focus on all the senses. Let’s home in on a specific memory. Something that’s vivid and easy to bring to mind. What can you hear? See? Smell? Taste? Touch?’
Any memory? Cosmo, there are millions of the things. That’s like asking me to talk to you about a grain of sand on a beach, to pick it up and tell you all about it. One memory? OK. The sisters, dancing when we were little in our front room. That feels accessible as it’s fresh in the old memory banks. I smile inside, not even sure if the emotion registers on my face.
‘Are you with me, Lucy?’
‘Yep.’ Kinda. I’m in my front room.Don’t tell Mum I let you use lipstick, OK?Meg says. It feels strange, a thick oily layer slick on my lips, and I keep pouting and stretching them so it sits better. And I remember looking at Meg’s boobs thinking about when mine are going to come in. I stuffed all sorts in my bras from that point forward to try and create them. Socks. I stuffed socks in my bra. Carpet, I can feel the twists of carpet under my feet. I hear a song and my shoulders moving, the beat of that music like a pulse.
‘I’m dancing, Cosmo,’ I mumble.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Happy, free.’
‘Those are good emotions, Lucy. Can you think of other times you felt like that?’
When did I last feel happy? When did I feel that swell of emotion in my chest, a smile that lasted for days? Exam results day. Grace drove me to the school in her Nissan Micra. I was wearing a very big belt. Mum said the belt looked ridiculous, like I was a cowgirl and that it didn’t actually help holding up my jeans. I was with Farah and we both stood on the grass field out by the front of the school opening our envelopes together. I scanned her face before I reacted. She dropped a grade so I embraced her tightly.It’s still so good, babe. It’s just letters on a piece of paper. You can still go to uni. I felt her body trembling under mine and tears fell from my face to hear her so disappointed.What did you get, Luce?she asks me, grabbing my letter. Four As. She squealed.OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD. There were dogs in the general vicinity who heard that sound. Grace got out of the car across the way and stood there nervously. And she grabbed my hand and we ran across the grass. I looked up and the sun hit my face, the sky was the brightest of blues and her hand around mine was so tight. Farah looked so proud, so happy, and as the air rushed past my face, I felt that happiness, that freedom that this was the starting point of something great. A tear rolls down my temple as I lie here. Ooof.
‘Breathe, Lucy. Deeply, in and out.’
OK. Other things that were so good they made me cry with happiness. Tess. Baby Tess when I held her for the first time. She smelt bad though. I’d been handed her after a particularly bad nappy but how she looked, how she felt in my arms, the overwhelming feeling of love was intoxicating. That I felt she was mine, connected to me.
‘God, I love that girl.’
‘Where are you now, Lucy?’
I’m standing on a stage. I’ve performed. I am bowing. Clapping. Lots of clapping. I’m so thrilled to be up there, the adrenalin runs through me. That emotion is exhilarating. I want to do it again, forever.
Wait.
