No Worries (15 page)

33

It was a Friday. I was looking forward to having two nights off work. I'd got in some DVDs, was thinking about going fishing, or maybe a long bike ride — see how far I could get — maybe have a swim somewhere. Life was looking good. But it was also the day of Mum's job interview — her big chance.

She'd gone off in the morning smiling and happy, assuring me she was ready to cope with whatever happened. Now it was three o'clock and the good feelings I'd had before vanished the moment Mum came home.

She rushed into the bathroom and rummaged through some drawers, then flew past me and into her room, crashing the door shut behind her.

Highs followed by lows. I was always expecting it but I was never prepared.

I knocked.

‘How did the job interview go, Mum?' As if I needed to ask.

‘GO AWAY!'

Oh.

I knocked again and this time there was no answer. I couldn't hear her crying, either. No sound meant she was locking it down inside, and when it got out there would be an explosion.

Forget it, Bri. Her problem. She'll get over it.

I must have watched TV for about half an hour. Or tried to.

She'll get hungry soon and come out for something to eat.

She's not going to hurt herself, she never does.

I made a sandwich but took only one bite. Then I remembered the bathroom. Why had she been going through the drawers?

I went in to have a look around. The drawer was still open. A mug of water was on the sink. And two pill bottles. Empty. I remembered seeing Auntie Joan with them. I didn't know what they were for or how many pills had been in them. I just knew it was trouble.

I ran back to the bedroom door.

‘Mum. Let me in.'

Silence.

‘Mum. You want me to wreck this door? I don't care. I'll do it.'

I took a run-up and rammed my shoulder at the door, as hard as I could.

Thud.

My shoulder throbbed. The door didn't budge.

I yelled.

‘Okay, I'll call the police. They'll get you out of there!'

I begged.

‘Be sensible, Mum. Please let me in.'

Nothing.

I went outside, picked up a chair. It seemed stupid to smash a window. What if there was nothing wrong? She'd kill me.

‘Mum!

I slapped my hand against the window.

Still no answer. Only one thing I could do.

I covered my eyes with my jacket and thumped the chair against the window, breaking the glass. I cleared away the shards and crawled in.

Mum was on the floor, her eyes half open.

‘Did you take these, Mum?' I showed her the empty bot tles. ‘You have to tell me if you took them.'

‘Let me sleep.'

She didn't look at me. Her voice was cold and tired.

‘I'm not leaving until you tell me.'

‘Let me sleep.'

‘Then I'm calling an ambulance.'

I picked up the phone on her bedside table. As soon as I started dialing, Mum sprang to life and grabbed it away from me.

‘I just wanted to sleep! Why can't you go away and let me sleep!'

Mum was hitting and scratching, trying to bite me. I wrestled her to the floor, got on top of her and tried to pin her arms down. She grabbed the phone line and wrapped the cord around her neck.

‘Stop it, Mum!'

She pulled the ends tight.

I wrenched the cord away from her.

‘Let me die!'

‘No! No! I won't!'

I rolled her over so she was face-down, put all my weight on her.

‘You're hurting me!'

‘I'm sorry — I'm sorry.'

I took off my belt and used it to tie her hands behind her back. She kept fighting me. I yanked the laces from my shoes and looped them tight around her ankles. I tied up my mum.

Now she made no attempt at words. Just tears and sobs gushed out of her.

When I heard the ambulance out front, I untied Mum. I didn't want anyone to see her like that. She was drowsy by then, so it was safe.

There were two paramedics, a man and a woman. While the man checked her vital signs, I filled the woman in on what I knew.

‘I think she's taken these pills.'

I gave her the empty bottles.

‘Are you sure? Did you see her take them?'

‘No.'

‘What's her name?'

‘Ruby.'

‘Hello, Ruby.' The woman knelt beside Mum, gently stroking her hair. ‘Now what have you done to yourself? What have you taken, Ruby? You have to tell us so we can help you.'

‘My mind went blank,' Mum mumbled to herself. ‘I couldn't answer their questions. Couldn't work the computer program. Couldn't do anything right …'

The paramedics helped her walk to the ambulance, one on each side for support.

‘Brian, why couldn't you let me die?'

I rode up front with the woman. Mum was on a stretcher in the back, the other paramedic monitoring her condition.

‘Her heart's strong.' The woman paramedic tapped my palm reassuringly. ‘Blood pressure's good. Tough customer, your mother.' She nodded to herself. ‘She's going to be fine.'

As soon as we arrived, I rang Dad.

‘Mum's taken an overdose.'

‘Oh shit.'

‘Can you come to the hospital?'

A long, long pause.

‘I thought maybe you could talk to her …'

‘And say what? I'd be the last one she'd take any notice of.'

‘Then don't say anything. Come and sit here with me. Help me get her home.'

When he hesitated again, I lost it.

‘Aw forget it! I wanted you to be my father for once — that's all I wanted — just to have my father there when I needed him — but it's all too hard for you, isn't it? It's just too bloody hard!'

It surprised me when that came out. Surprised him, too.

‘Hey, hey — hold on a minute. What's up with yer?'

‘Nothing's up! Everything's great! Mum's tried to kill herself, Dad. What do you think's up with me?'

‘It's just that I've been through all this before, mate'.

‘But I haven't. I need you here.'

‘Fair enough,' he said. ‘I'm on me way.'

* *

In twenty minutes he was beside me. We spent the next two hours waiting, which was probably the longest time I'd spent with him for years. Not a beer in sight. Not a race call. Only me and Dad.

‘So Bri, me boy, tell us the story,'.

He alternated between nods and a shake of the head, but I knew he was totally focused.

When I'd finished, he asked, ‘You ever thought about walkin' away, son?'

A direct hit. I thought about that every second minute. And I was ashamed of it.

‘No.'

‘Come on, this is yer old man. You must hate the sight of ‘er sometimes.'

‘I just wish she was different.'

‘She's never gunna change, mate.'

‘I know that.'

‘We can get a place of our own. Clear out. Be just us boys against the world … but I don't suppose you'd be in that, would yer?'

‘I can't leave her, Dad.'

‘Didn't think so.'

He was quiet for a moment.

‘Okay. From now on, I'll hang around home more often. Poke me head in now and then and see how yer mother's goin'. Nothin' too friendly — wouldn't want to encourage her, make her think I like her. But I will keep an eye on her. I'll stay home more of a weekend — give the fish a break for a change. Give you some time to yourself too. How does that sound?'

I'd always loved my Dad, but never more than at that moment.

‘That sounds pretty good,' I told him.

‘Done deal.'

A few minutes later a nurse came in.

‘Your mother's awake now. The tablets she took were fairly mild. They were sleeping tablets but an alternative kind — natural rather than chemical. They've been pumped out of her now and she's okay. You can see her any time you want.'

I started to go but Dad lagged behind.

‘You coming in?'

‘I was just thinkin', yer mother might not want me here. Could be embarrassed. Know what I mean?'

I never knew Dad thought of things like that.

‘She probably would be,' I said.

‘You be all right if I leave yer the car?'

‘Sure.'

He tossed me the keys and headed for the exit, then he stopped and turned.

‘Hey, Bri, you know how you look after yer mother so good?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Well, are yer gunna look after me like that when I'm old and feeble?'

‘No way!'

He left, chuckling to himself.

A stocky guy with glasses sat on the edge of Mum's bed, writing on a clipboard. He wore a suit with a bright blue tie. I looked more closely and saw it was a Mickey Mouse tie.

His name was a blur to me, he said it so fast, but I did hear him say he was a psychiatrist.

‘So you would be Brian?'

‘Yep.'

‘Your mother and I have had a long talk, Brian, and she assures me that she has no plans to harm herself. Is that correct, Mrs Talbot?'

Mum stared down at the bedsheets.

‘I need to hear it from you, Mrs Talbot. Is that correct?'

‘Yes.'

‘The thing is,' he said to me, ‘your mother can't stay here because this is for emergency patients only — there's a shortage of beds, as always. The other alternative is a psych ward.' He looked back at Mum, assessing her one more time. ‘Not a good place to be if you can possibly avoid it.'

‘I won't go there!'

The doctor bit down on his lower lip.

‘So for these reasons,' he said to me, ‘I'd consider allowing her to go home.'

‘But how can you do that?' I argued. ‘She's only just got here.'

‘Stay out of it, Brian. This is between me and the doctor.'

‘How can I stay out of it? I might not be able to stop you next time.'

‘There won't be a next time.'

She got out of bed and began searching for her clothes.

‘Before you go anywhere,' the doctor said, as he hopped off the bed, ‘I'd like you to sign this.'

He took a piece of paper from his pocket.

‘What's that?'

‘A contract. It's not legally binding. You won't get sued. This is a simple question of honour. It says that you promise you will not try to harm yourself in any way when you leave here. The contract is valid for one month. By the end of that time I'm confident you'll be back on track.'

Mum probably couldn't believe her good luck. I couldn't believe how stupid it was.

‘Do you really think she's going to take any notice of a contract?' I said.

‘Yes, I believe she will.' He took off his glasses to clean them. ‘I've had success with this in the past and there's no reason why it won't be the case again.'

He placed the clipboard under his arm and glanced at his watch as if he was running late for something much more important than me and Mum.

‘I'll have a talk with your regular psychiatrist — I know Doctor Rezni. I'll bring her up to date on what's been happening. No doubt she'll want to schedule another appointment fairly quickly.'

‘All right,' Mum said, not caring.

‘But until you sign this contract I won't feel happy about letting you leave the hospital.'

‘Give me a pen.'

She scrawled her name quickly.

‘We have a contract now, Mrs Talbot,' he reminded her. ‘I expect you to honour it. I'm trusting you. Can I do that?'

‘I signed it, didn't I? Now where can I get changed?'

34

Home.

Mum went to bed. It was only seven o'clock. She closed all the curtains and buried herself under the sheets.

‘Can I get you something to eat, Mum? Cup of tea?'

‘Leave me.'

Her voice was empty of everything except pain.

‘I'm sick of it. I don't want to be alive.'

My legs started shaking. I couldn't stop them.

‘Mum …'

‘Just go.'

I sat at the kitchen table, and only moved when the doorbell rang.

Dad was there with a huge snapper.

‘This bloke's too much for me to have on me own. Thought I might give it to you and yer mother. Good eatin' in that.'

Dad stayed and cooked the fish, and made some chips to go with it. All the time he raved on about his fishing adventures. I think he remembered every fish he'd ever caught. And each of them had its own story. He talked about cricket and boxing and the dumb things he got up to when he was a kid — stories I knew off by heart. About the only thing he didn't talk much about was Mum.

When he did, it was short and sweet.

‘Now Bri, what you have to remember is that yer mother is a survivor. Tougher than you and me, son. Oh yeah! By a long way. She'll get through this. You can bank on it. Everything's gunna be okay.'

It
was
okay while Dad was there, making me laugh with his corny jokes. But eventually — ‘About time I crawled into the cot, Bri. Early start tomorrow' — it was just me and Mum again. Like it always was.

I opened her door a crack and listened. No sounds of sleeping.

‘Mum.' I whispered it. ‘Are you awake?'

She rolled over to face the wall.

I used to put myself to sleep by dreaming about being a tennis champion. It'd always be Wimbledon. I was always the underdog. I'd be five games to love down, and then I'd start coming back, doing all these amazing dives, thumping down aces, playing trick shots, and long before I got to hold up the trophy I'd be asleep.

It didn't work that night. I kept on going back over everything that had happened. Smashing the window. Tying up Mum. The stupid contract. It was worse than being in the tunnel with the rats.

Nothing could get me to sleep.

* *

At 6 am Mum turned the light on in my room.

‘Where are the car keys, Brian? They should be hanging up behind the door where they always are, but they're not. Why aren't they there?'

I shrugged.

‘I have no idea.'

‘Get out of bed and help me look for them.'

‘Okay.'

I knew we weren't going to find them because I'd hidden them, just like I'd hidden all the sharp knives in the kitchen.

‘If people would only put things back where they belong …'

She tipped the contents of a drawer onto the carpet, then sprawled down there herself.

‘Am I asking too much? All I want is the damn car keys!'

If ever you needed to stay cool, it's now, Bri.

‘Where you going, Mum?'

No answer.

‘Maybe we could go out somewhere together if we find the keys? We hardly ever have a day out, just you and me. I could make some sandwiches — a picnic down by the beach. What do you think?'

She looked up from the floor.

‘Brian, there's a prescription in my handbag. It's for antidepressants. I want you to go down to the 24-hour chemist. Take your bike. Get the prescription filled for me. There's money in my bag. Will you do that?'

‘Yeah, I can do it, but why don't we wait until 9 o'clock and I'll call Doctor Rezni and ask her what to do? You know, what pills you should be taking.'

‘If you have any feelings for me at all, you'll get the script filled as I asked you to. And then you'll go away. That's all I ask.'

I knew exactly what the pills were for.

‘You're asking me to help you kill yourself, aren't you, Mum?'

She began sobbing and I dropped down beside her.

‘I can't, Mum. You can't ask me to do that.'

‘Then give me the car keys!'

‘Let me call Doctor Rezni.'

‘She doesn't care.'

‘She does! Every time I've talked to her she's told me you're special.'

‘I can't do it any more.' More tears. ‘I just want to sleep and never, never wake up.'

‘Let me help you back to bed. Come on.' I dragged her to her feet. ‘And I'll call Doctor Rezni right now. She starts early. We might get straight through to her. She can fix you, Mum. You know she can. You have to give her a chance.'

She sobbed all the way to her room.

I dialled Doctor Rezni, and got a recorded message. Her receptionist, Wanda, drawled as she always did, ‘Surrrrgery. Doctor Rezni's hours are
blah blah blah
— please leave a message after the tone.'

I left a message, stressing the words
emergency
and
urgent
. Begging Doctor Rezni to ring me.

I went out to the shed. The lights were on and Dad was up and getting ready for work.

‘Yer mother's not crook again, is she?'

‘Yeah, Dad, but I don't want you to come over. I'll be fine. Just wanted to see you before you left for work.'

We stood looking at each other for a few seconds. And then I dropped all pretence and folded up into his arms. I knew he hated that sort of thing, but he held onto me anyway.

‘You poor bastard,' he said.

‘I'll be okay, Dad. It's just not easy sometimes.'

And he still hung onto me.

‘I can stay with yer if you want. Got sickies comin' to me. You tell me what you want me to do, boy.'

‘You've done it already, Dad.'

I went into my room and found some of Mum's sleeping pills that I'd hidden. I took out two.

‘Take these and then you can rest for a while.'

I handed them to her with a glass of water.

‘Are there more? You have to give them to me, Brian.'

‘Just take these ones, Mum. And I'll wake you when Dr Rezni calls. Okay?'

She put her head in her hands. ‘Why won't you give them to me?'

‘Because I love you, Mum.'

Sobbing, she swallowed the pills and slumped down on the bed, utterly defeated. I lay next to her, the door ajar so I wouldn't miss the phone when it rang.

‘Doctor Rezni won't call,' Mum said. ‘They always say they care but they don't.'

I knew she was right

‘She will, Mum. She will.'

We both slept. It was 10 am when I woke. No phone call.

I slipped out of the room to ring Doctor Rezni's office again.

‘Surrrgery. Wanda speaking. How may I help you?'

‘Did you get the message I left? My mother's really in a bad way.'

She said what they always say.

‘Doctor's already been given your message. She's been very busy today. But I'll pass it on to her again. All right?'

I went back to those words
emergency
and
urgent
. I said them again with added feeling, and wondered if yelling them would make it any clearer.

‘Doctor Rezni
will
call me back, won't she?'

‘I can't make promises on behalf of Doctor. I know she always does her best to return calls, but it's been hectic here, and you have to remember it's Saturday.'

‘She works Saturday, doesn't she?'

‘Only til twelve.'

Twelve … the last straw.

Eleven am. Mum emerged to shuffle to the toilet, one huge lump of misery.

‘She didn't ring, did she?'

‘She's real busy, Mum. There was some emergency. But she should call any minute.'

‘Hah.'

Another hour and I was going out of my mind. Then the phone rang. What a fantastic sound.

‘Putting Doctor on the line now …'

I called into Mum's room.

‘It's Doctor Rezni! She called back, just like she promised.'

It only took her half the day, but she did it.

‘How's it going?' Doctor Rezni asked, the chirpy voice telling me her life was good and happy, a world away from what I was feeling.

I talked like a race-caller, words flying out of me.

‘Mum took pills. She tried to kill herself. I caught her in time, got her into hospital, then a few hours later they let her go! All she had to do was sign a contract that said she wouldn't kill herself! Can you believe it?'

I'd hoped my anger would be contagious, but Dr Rezni's voice remained in neutral.

‘Yes, the hospital left a message for me. It's so sad to hear. She was going so well, too. How's she feeling now?'

‘You'd have to see her to understand. There's this look she gives me. It's like she's saying she's sorry — because she's going to kill herself. First chance she gets. I know her and I know exactly where her head is.'

‘That must be a huge worry for you. How are you coping, Brian?'

‘This isn't about me. I'm fine but my mother isn't!'

‘Hmm … yes, of course.'

Doctor Rezni was more laid-back than anyone I'd ever known. In the past I'd liked that about her, but I wanted something more now. I felt like shaking her.

‘It sounds like we need to reassess the medication.'

I would have hung up if I hadn't needed her so much.

‘She needs more than medication right now.'

‘Brian, it's essential your mother stays on regular medication. You have to insist.'

‘I know, I know.'

You try to insist with my mother.

‘That's something we'll have to address at the next appointment.'

‘Look, I need help today. Forget the next appointment. Can you see her this afternoon? She'll listen to you.'

I heard her flicking through the pages of a notebook. At least that made it sound like she was trying.

‘I'm really sorry, Brian. I'm backed up with patients. The earliest I can fit her in is next Monday.'

‘You don't understand. She won't be here on Monday. If I get off the phone and tell her you won't see her, it's all over. I won't be able to stop her.'

Another flick through the notebook …

‘Of course the best thing would be for her to come into the hospital here. I could see her every day when I do my rounds.'

Oh God, please!

‘That would be perfect! She told me she won't go to a hospital, but if you were there, she'd go. She trusts you. Do you think there's a chance?'

‘Well, I know there's a vacant bed. Does she have private medical cover?'

‘No.'

‘Hmm … that makes it hard.'

‘I'll pay it back. I've got a job. I can get a loan from the bank or I can sell something. I'll pay whatever it costs, I promise, I promise I will!'

‘Oh, this is such a difficult one.'

Difficult to tell me to go away? Difficult to tell me to just let my mother kill herself? Well, go on, get it over with. Tell me!

‘Look,' she said, ‘I think we can treat this as a special case.'

Was I hearing right?

‘We could put your mum in here for a little while. I'm sure I can swing it so it won't cost anything.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, I think it'll be all right. The hospital director will probably allow it on my recommendation — on compassionate grounds. I've worked here for ten years, so I'd say he owes me a favour. Let me think for a second …'

Please don't change your mind.

‘Yes, I'm certain there won't be a problem with that.'

‘Thank you! Thank you so much!'

‘Can you bring her up right now?'

‘I'm almost out the door!'

‘I'd better get things organised then. See you soon, Brian.'

I rushed into the bedroom.

‘It's good news, Mum
.
It's really good news.'

She could only manage a sarcastic smirk as if good news always ended up rotten.

‘Doctor Rezni wants you to go into hospital. Her hospital, Mum! She'll look after you herself. See you every day until you're better. She's waiting for you right now.'

Her eyes drifted to me.

‘No, you've got it wrong, Brian. That's a private hospital. We can't afford that.'

‘It's all fixed. Dr Rezni's getting you in there. She says you're special, Mum. She cares about you. She told me herself. She really wants to help you.'

‘She said that?'

‘Yes! Honestly! And this won't cost a cent. She said the hospital owes her a favour. The best treatment you could possibly get, the doctor you like, and it's all for free!'

Her head fell back onto the pillow like it was all too hard to cope with. I sat on the bed and held her hand.

‘You know I've only stayed alive this long because of you, Brian. I never ever wanted to hurt you.'

‘Yeah, I know that, Mum.'

‘It's so hard to keep trying. I'm so tired …'

‘Please. Just once more. This is going to turn everything around. Say you'll do it, Mum.'

More tears. More death in her eyes. Then at last …

‘All right then, Brian.' I stroked her cheek. ‘I'll try.'

Mum moved herself slowly, as if merely getting out of bed was a mighty effort. She grimaced at the thought of putting on clean clothes, showering.

The phone rang.

Dad.

‘Thought I'd check up on yer, see how you were travellin'.'

I told him about the private hospital.

‘That sounds a bit hopeful anyway,' he said.

‘Yeah. To be honest things haven't been too good, Dad. I thought Mum's doctor would never ring back. But now, like you say, it's hopeful.'

Dad never rang me from work. I could hear his mates in the background, talking and laughing. Someone yelled out to him. But he didn't answer them.

‘You sure you're okay?' he asked.

‘Yes, really. Everything's under control. But thanks for ringing, Dad. It's good to know you're there.'