“Don’t really feel like a big dog at the moment. But I’m grateful that this is an option for me. The last place treated me like I was some kind of criminal.” He didn’t have a lot more freedom here, only less judgement. “Like they were expecting me to manifest drugs magically?”
“Makes sense. You are a bit of a wizard, right? Of music at least?”
“Nah, that’s Ru. I’m just a backup singer.” He set the shake aside and cut into the chicken. “What’s that you’re working on?”
Paige held it up. It was a cactus, partially stitched, with the words “Don’t be a prick” written, but not yet sewn, underneath.
Tommy laughed. It felt strange, that touch of joy and he paused to think about it. The dark blotch hadn’t gone away, but for a few seconds he hadn’t noticed it, and it hadn’t swallowed up that tiny bit of humor.
“I found a box of Bas’s grandmother’s old embroidery. Framed a few for him. Some weren’t finished. Her hands got really bad a few years back, Bas said. I YouTubed some tutorials and finished those. Guess I caught that bug, ‘cause now I do these at night to keep my hands busy?” Paige said. She went back to stitching. “It’s mindless now. I sometimes change up the colors on these little kits. But this one is fun. Snarky.”
“It is funny,” Tommy agreed. “Was the coloring book with the swear words from you?”
She put her hand over her lips like she was shocked he would suggest such a thing. Faux shock. “No, never, why would you think that?” She winked.
He laughed again. “It’s great. Thank you. I colored the farting unicorn today.”
“I think we would all be better if we exhaled the bullshit,” Paige agreed.
Tommy nodded and dug into his vegetables. “Tell me about the outside world. How is Ru? How is everyone?”
“Some topics are off-limits,” Paige said. “But let me tell you about the place Dane and Bas have picked to live near Stanford.” She went into a long description of a place that sounded way too big for the two guys, but had a dream kitchen, and a private pool. Bas liked to swim in the evening to relax from his all-day of studying. Tommy liked listening to Paige’s husky voice. It helped keep his mind from falling into the black abyss of negative self-talk.
“Dane loves cooking. Bas already has a thousand books. They sent me some pictures from the new place. Bas at the counter with books open all around him, and Dane baking. I think he was making cinnamon rolls. I’m jealous that I didn’t get to try them,” Paige said.
“It’s good he found something he liked outside VG,” Tommy said. Dane had a good voice, but no motivation to continue singing. It made Tommy wonder about himself. What was his motivation? The fame? The lights? The parties? The money? At that moment he couldn’t recall.
“He has classes that start in mid-September,” Paige said. “Some culinary thing. I don’t remember the specifics. You’ll have to ask when they visit on Saturday.”
“Bas is still studying psychology?” Tommy hoped he hadn’t messed that up for his friend. Talk about seeing the worst in some people. He’d overdosed at Bas’s last prom. It sounded like a really shitty thing to do and he barely remembered any of it.
“Yes. He was all over this place, talking to everyone, asking a million questions, wanting to make sure you wouldn’t be medicated and thrown back to the wolves.” Paige shrugged as she pulled through a few more stitches. “I wish everyone could get treatment like this. Bas’s brother Eddy is in a place not even a quarter as nice as this. He’s got three roommates and every move is monitored. I suppose it’s better than jail? Treatment of some kind? Bas said he wasn’t happy about the number of meds they have Eddy on. Something about him seeming zombie-like.”
“Maybe we can get Eddy moved? If money is a thing, I can help?” He thought maybe, but who knew at this point. How much was this all costing him? Would he have any money left?
“We can’t move him. Even if Bas had a say, which he doesn’t. Court order and all that.” Paige frowned. “Sorry, not supposed to talk about that. How about your day. Did you do anything interesting?”
“A weird humming thing,” Tommy admitted. “Like a yoga ‘om’ only lower, back of the throat? It’s supposed to stimulate the vagus nerve?” He felt his cheeks heat. “That sounds very dirty, but it’s not.”
“Vagus, huh? What does it do?”
“Helps with anxiety. The humming creates a vibration that calms the nervous system?” He set his fork down and cleared his throat to try to demonstrate. It wasn’t hard, he’d spent an hour mastering it one-on-one with the instructor, but once he had it, he could really feel a subtle easing of the constant vibration in his spine. He didn’t know if it would work during a panic attack, but it was a tool added to his mental box of supplies. He opened his mouth and took a few seconds to find the right tone. Years as a singer meant he knew a lot of the ins and outs of voice manipulation. The instructor had shown him how to breathe through his nose so he could keep the hum going. He actually wondered if that little trick would help his singing.
“And you still sing pretty,” Paige said.
Tommy stopped and looked down at his plate, feeling a bit shy. “It’s not really a note as much as a feeling. Might be fun to play with it in song though.” He was supposed to start school too, vocal training for more stage work. Acting, Broadway, that type of thing. Was he going to return to that? He had no idea.
“You and Ru can practice together.”
“Maybe.” He tried not to think too much about Ru as that had sent him into panic attacks twice already today. “I did some yoga. I’m not very bendy. Something called yin? It was a lot of lying on the floor in weird twists, breathing. They scanned my brain. Good news is that it’s still there,” Tommy joked. “Bad news is that it’s broken.”
Paige laughed. “Not broken. Healing. That’s kind of cool though. What does your brain look like?”
“Colorful, blotchy?” Tommy said after a moment of thought. Which was not exactly good news. He had blots of light and dark which told the doctor exactly what they were expecting. “It sounds like it will change over time and we should see that on the scans?” He didn’t mention that if the depression didn’t start to fade, he might be looking at a type of electroshock therapy. It scared him, and he was clinging to hope of not having to go to that extreme.
“That’s good news, right?”
“I hope so.” Tommy finished up his food. It was almost seven, and he hated the idea of going back to his room. Strange how he’d wanted solitude minutes ago, now he longed to stay. He could return to the media area and color. Maybe he’d color something for Paige. “Will you be by tomorrow?”
