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But it doesn’t really mean anything.
Life gets hard. I’m in the middle of one of those times. That’s all. I’m not one of those people in the TV ads for antidepressants who place a hand to their forehead and look so sad. If that’s what depression looks like, then I’m definitely not that.
You need help. Something is wrong, Corey.
Does this mean Patrick thinks so as well? Depression means psychiatrists and medications. Um, no thanks. How strong and reliable would I look to my siblings then? Vomit clogs my throat as I imagine Luce’s face. I swallow it back down. No, I can’t have her give me a look full of pity and sorrow and worry. She doesn’t need to worry about me. She shouldn’t have to. I’m the big brother. I’m supposed to worry, care for, and look after her, not the other way around.
Olivia has been watching, analyzing me.
Words. I need words. She’s expecting a response and I should probably give her one before I faint. Because that would be very manly and tough and strong of me.
“Why do you think that?” I force myself to say.
“Observations…and a few off-handed things your brother said. Plus,” Olivia hesitates, struggling with going forward.
“Plus what?” I grit, desperate to know.
“Personal experience.”
My eyebrows lift immediately following her statement. Olivia has suffered from depression? No wonder she sees right through me. The lightbulb explodes over my head as I realize what this means.
She gets it.
She knows.
This is why she said what she did after she came back into my bedroom that day. It’s how she knew.
She gets it.
Someone understands, like really understands.
Or, I thought so until she continues, shattering the burst of hope I had. “Not me personally, but a…someone close to me. I was a bystander who watched it unfold,” she adds with sorrow. Her focus has shifted back out the window, her food long forgotten.
“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can think to say.
She glances at me, surprised and a bit confused. “For what?”
“My siblings aren’t around to see how I am, and it’s something I’m grateful for. I’m sorry you had to watch someone go through it.”
“Thanks.” The waiter drops off the bill and she looks relieved.
I grab it before she can and slip my card inside, handing it right back to him. Part of me is anxious to go, while the other half wants to stay here with Olivia. We both probably need a break from one another, though. We don’t say anything on the way back home, lost in our thoughts as much as I’m lost about my life. As we’re walking up the stairs, Olivia speaks.
“If you ever want to talk, I’m here. Or if you want someone around, you could text me and I’ll come over. I know you’d probably rather have one of your siblings or one of your friends, but just in case.”
I don’t want my siblings involved, if possible, and my friends were my teammates, which I no longer have, though a few text me here and there.
I’m alone.
Alone, off course from my life, and desperate. For what exactly, I’m not sure.
“Thanks. Same for you,” I offer in return.
“Thanks.” Olivia smiles. “Have a good day, Corey.” I don’t think anyone has ever meant those words as much as she does right now. Words so simple that most people take them for granted and just tag on a, “You too,” in response. People say it to say it, as a social formality. Not Olivia. She says it because she truly wants me to have a good day.
“You too,” I reply, meaning it as much as she does. Then I turn, unlock my door, and escape to the prison of my apartment. There’s still a good portion of the day to get through before work tonight. For a moment, I despise this place. It’s a home void of emotions, where I seem to lose a sense of good in the world. At the same time, it’s my comfort, my place away from people where I can be alone when I want it to be that way. I lie on the couch, stare at the ceiling, and rerun breakfast.
It doesn’t matter how many times I replay it in my head, I keep coming back to the same question.
