The door to my room opens and my dad walks in. He takes one look at all the books spread out on my bed and then at me. “You studying?” he asks, surprised.
“Sort of. What’s up?”
Dad closes the door behind him and approaches the bed. There’s nothing I can do to cover the books or the content I’m reading. I really don’t want to lie to my dad if he asks why I’m researching depression. Which is exactly what he’s going to do. His eyes scan the books as he sits on the bed and then those same darkened eyes spring up to mine.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know. I’m good,” I say.
My dad has always been big on open communication. He’s always encouraged me and Cara to tell him everything about our lives. It has to do with his own childhood. He went through hell and couldn’t tell anyone. Because of what he experienced, he’s extra protective of me and my sister.
“Eighteen-year-olds don’t tend to sit around reading psychology textbooks for fun, Ares. Why are you reading about…” He pauses and picks up the book closest to him. “Depression?”
“I was curious.” It’s not a lie. “I promise it’s not about me.”
“There is no shame in suffering from depression, or asking for help if you ever need it. I will do whatever it takes, Ares. Find the best fucking doctors there are, if you need it,” Dad says.
“I know you would, and if I needed help, you’d be the first one I’d come to,” I assure him.
“Is it Cara? Is this why she came home?”
“It’s not Cara. I would tell you that too.” I wouldn’t keep something like this secret if it were my sister. I would rather her hate me and be alive and well than to keep a secret that could cost her, her life.
And then it hits me. I can’t keep Zara’s secret. She was ready to try to take herself out last night. What if she tries again and I’m not there to stop her? Fuck.
“It’s a friend and I don’t know if I’m going to be enough to help her. But if I try to get her help from her parents, then she’s going to hate me for betraying her trust.”
“You can’t be responsible for someone else’s mental health, Ares. You’re eighteen. If you think she’s at risk of harming herself, then you need to get her professional help.” Dad tells me what I already know. “Whatever happens, this isn’t on you. And it’s really fucked up for her to put you in this position.”
“It’s not her fault.” I can’t help but defend Zara. “She didn’t want me to know what she’s struggling with. I just couldn’tnotnotice. And then I pushed her until she broke and told me.”
Dad’s lips tilt at the side. “Yeah, we have a way of doing that,” he says. “Do you think she’s at risk of harming herself?”
“Maybe.” It’s not a complete lie. I’m pretty sure she has thoughts of hurting herself, but I don’t know for sure.
“You want to help her without betraying her?” Dad asks.
“I do.”
“Reading textbooks isn’t the answer. Find a doctor and get her to make an appointment. Go with her if you have to. You can do that without telling anyone else,” he says. “If she refuses, then you tell her parents. Because friend or not, it’s not your problem, Ares.”
“If it were Mum, would you have thought it wasn’t your problem?” I counter.
“I didn’t realise you were dating anyone seriously. Who is she?” Dad presses.
“I’m not.TechnicallyI’m not, but she’s important,” I admit.
“I’ll get a list of doctors. You can call around and book her in for one under an alias if you have to.” I’m thankful he doesn’t push to find out who it is I’m talking about.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He stands and walks towards the door. “By the way, if it were me and your mother needed help, there is nothing I wouldn’t have done to make sure she got it. Even when we were teenagers, I made her hate me because I thought it was the best thing for her. Turns out, it wasn’t but I was prepared to live without her, so she could live a normal life. If you really care about someone, you’ll do whatever it takes.”
I nod. I know the story of how my parents met, the things they went through to get to where they are now. I don’t think I’m in love with Zara, not like that. I do care about her, though, and being the only one who fucking knows what’s in her head is a responsibility I didn’t ask for. But… the thought of anything happening to her makes me feel physically ill.
When my phone vibrates on the bed, I look down at the screen, disappointed when it’s not Zara’s name and confused at seeing my sister’s. “Cara?” I answer.
“I need you to come out of your room and distract Mum and Dad. They’re hovering, bad, Ares,” she whispers.
