The Problem With Crazy (18 page)

Probably what he was doing before.

“My name is Lachlan,” he said softly.

“I …” I gave an awkward wave of my hand. “I have to go.”

I spun on my heel and ran out the door.

“I
BET
you didn’t expect to see me back so soon.” I settled myself into the tiny chair opposite Leslie’s. I wondered whether she had any larger patients and, if so, if they fit in between the narrow, black arms. Maybe that was one of the side effects of having a family member with a disease: weight loss. Gosh, it’d be every female’s dream.

“How are you today, Kate?” Leslie ignored my glib comment and smiled at me, hands laced gently over her knee.

“Okay.” I shrugged. Torrents of water bucketed down. They coated the window, and blurred the world outside.

“Have you spent much time with your father?”

“You know.” I shrugged again. At this rate, my shoulders were going to get a workout, too. The Huntington’s Diet: good for weight loss and shoulder muscle building.

“No, I don’t.” Leslie’s smile never faltered. Maybe the Counsellor’s Diet involved strong cheek muscles. “When did you last spend time with him?”

I racked my brain, cataloguing the last few days in my mind.

“Yesterday, I guess,” I said. “At dinner.”

“And what did you talk about?”

I forced my brain to try and remember the mundane events of dinner the night before.

“I had a job trial a few days ago, so Mum asked how that went.” I bit my lip. “And we talked about the medication Dad was on.”

“What about how your father was feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you talk to him at all about his feelings, and the emotions he was going through?”

“Not really.”

“What about you? Did you share your feelings and emotions with him?”

“It was family dinner, not a counselling session,” I said. “You asked about the last time we hung out, not the last time we got involved in a deep and meaningful.”

“Well, when was that?”

Silence.

I smiled. For a moment I was worried I’d have to say before it all, back when he was still my father and not this stranger living in our house. I was fairly certain that would be the
wrong answer
.

“A week ago he told me he thought a boy liked me.”

“That’s nice.” Leslie nodded encouragingly. “And what did you say in return?”

“That he probably didn’t.” I thought back to the flash that had darkened Lachlan’s eyes when he’d walked toward me at the end of my shift, the way he seemed to see straight through me and melt my insides.

“Was that an honest answer?”

“Yes,” I replied quickly. Because once Lachlan knew the truth, it would be.

“And how do you feel about that? Didn’t you and your boyfriend break up a few weeks ago?”

I exhaled, a long stream of air coming out of my nose. I stared at the water on the window again. I could only see the shape and shadow of the tree outside. No definition at all.

“It still hurts,” I admitted. I gripped my hands together and gave one of my wrists a light pinch. “But I think I’d stopped—stopped loving him a long time ago. I was with him because it was easy, not because it was right.” The words rang true as they left my mouth. “And thinking of him—it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as all this.” I raised my arm limply then let it drop. Sometimes it all seemed so big and overwhelming and scary.

“You’re allowed to hurt.”

I stared out the window again. I didn’t need her permission to be sad. Oft times, all I felt was the weight of this oppressive sadness hovering over me. Even when I smiled with Stacey, even when I’d laughed with Johnny, it was still this niggling itch in the corner of my mind I just couldn’t let go of.

Sometimes, the sadness is everything.

“How do you cope when it all gets too much?” It was like she’d read my mind.

“I don’t know,” I choked out. “Sometimes I can almost forget about it, get lost in a moment. Then I remember and it’s sad again.”

“What do you do then?” Leslie’s face softened from one-thousand-megawatt smile to something more half-hearted. It was like someone turned down the sun.

“Nothing, I guess.” I thought of the night I’d watched movies to forget, then the time I’d turned to a fortune teller to predict my future, then the time I’d kicked my toe to feel pain, to feel release.

Yes.

That.

“You must do something,” Leslie pressed.

“Well … sometimes I just do something else,” I said.

“To forget?”

“More to push it away.”

“You know, forgetting this problem, pushing it away, isn’t going to make it any easier,” Leslie said. I steepled my hands at the bridge of my nose and shook my head. Why was this all so hard? What did she want me to say?

“Well, what’s the right answer, then? Tell me, and I’ll say it back.”

“This isn’t a test.” Leslie’s voice was level as ever.

“Then why do I feel like you’re constantly judging me?”

“Kate, I promise you I am not judging.” She shook her head. “And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. It was never my intention.”

I stared out the window again. It was becoming my solace, my escapism from the intense questions that constantly spewed forth from her mouth. I thought of the old man I’d seen walking through those gardens the other day. Was he not walking today because of the rain? Or had something happened? Was he no longer walking because he was no longer able to?

“Let’s talk about why you’re here,” Leslie said. “You want to get tested, so I’ve printed out the two referrals, one for the neurologist, the other the psychiatrist.” Leslie grabbed two sheets of paper from the printer and handed them to me.

I looked at the papers like they were made of fire.

“You do want to get tested, right?” Leslie’s eyebrows were raised.

“Sure,” I agreed. It made sense. I should get tested. There was no reason for me to not get tested.

Was there?

“You’re not very convincing.” Leslie gave a wry smile. “There’s no rush, you know. I want you to keep seeing me through the process, regardless. And remember; you don’t have to get tested just because there’s a possibility the answer will be yes.”

“More like a probability.”

“A
poss
ibility,” Leslie corrected.

We lapsed into silence again.

“Do you want to get tested?”

I thought back to the morning when I’d discussed it with Mum. Then I thought about everything else—my life. “Yes.”

“Why do you want to get tested?”

“I feel like we’ve been through this.”

“Indulge me.” Leslie tilted her head to one side.

“Because until I know, I feel like I don’t know how to plan my life. Whether I should pursue a career, date boys—God, I don’t even know if I should take out private health insurance.” I gave a bitter laugh.

“Well, there’s an easy one.” Leslie gave a soft laugh. “You should get private health cover, Huntington’s or no.”

“Gee, thanks for solving that.” I rolled my eyes. “Sorry,” I added. I hadn’t meant to be so rude.

“Did you book this appointment, Kate?”

She already knew I hadn’t.

“No,” I indulged her.

“Your mum did?”

“My mum.”

“Why?”

“Because she thought I wanted to get tested,” I started, “and I do. Like I said. I’m pretty sure it makes sense. Otherwise I’m just floating in nothing.”

“And she didn’t book you in because she thought you could use some support?”

More silence. We were getting very good at it.

“If you have it, what will you do?”

“I’m pretty sure I have it anyway. I flipped a coin. And a fortune-teller kinda told me …”

“A fortune-teller told you?” Leslie’s hand slapped down on her desk. Her face contorted into a mixture of shock and anger, the two least controlled emotions I’d ever seen her display.

“Well, not exactly,” I back-pedalled. “But she heavily implied it. Said there would be sad times ahead for me and my family, knew there was something wrong with my dad’s head …”

“Is that why you want to get tested? Do you feel like your chances are higher than fifty per cent?”

Yes. Absolutely.

Part of me feels like it’s almost guaranteed.

“No,” I lied. “I know the statistics.”

“You do,” Leslie agreed. “Although something tells me you’re not trusting them.”

I didn’t reply. The sound of her clock ticked by and the whir of the fan, despite the torrential rain outside, created a steady, deafening buzz. The background nothingness was all consuming.

The skull on her desk stared at me and I was fairly certain it mouthed the word
sprung
.

I
STOOD
under the building’s awning, waiting for a gap in the rain before I ran to the parking lot. It was a two-hundred-metre dash from the care unit, and I just didn’t have anything important enough to rush home for on a Friday night. Stacey was out on another date, and Mum and Dad were home having Chinese takeaway.

If I were on tour, I’d be in Melbourne right now.

The thought was in my head before I could stop it, then all I could think about were the things I wasn’t doing. I wasn’t forging a career. I doubted I’d even get another shift at the café, after running off at the end of my trial.

I wasn’t watching my boyfriend make it to the top. I wasn’t hanging out with Lee Collins, networking with Coal’s manager, trying to organise an internship or more joint events. I hadn’t even lost my virginity.

I was a great big loser with no Friday night plans and no foreseeable future.

Happy Friday to me.

“Whatcha doing?” I was so stuck in my own mind I jumped what felt like a foot in the air when I heard Lachlan’s voice. What was he doing here? What were the odds of him having an appointment around the same time as mine
again
? And why didn’t he run out in the rain and pretend not to see me, when that was clearly the appropriate thing to be done in this situation?

“What do you think?” I snapped, because it seemed safest.

“Looks like you’re being afraid.” Lachlan stepped up beside me, gazing out at the rain-drenched grass before us. “You know, it’s just a little rain.”

“A little?” I raised my eyebrows, gesturing at the sheets of water that were falling from the heavens. “You call this little?”

“I’m not going to make a joke about the size of my penis right now.” Lachlan winked at me. I fought with my face to keep my lips straight. It wasn’t even funny. And I hated boys who made dick jokes like that. Even though he’d only made a joke about making one.

I gritted my teeth and stared at the rain ahead. It showed no sign of easing up. Maybe it was worth getting soaked to the bone if it meant I didn’t have to stand here with him.

“Well, I’ll see you later, then.” Lachlan smiled at me. He popped open an umbrella and its large red-and-white awning spread out, completely covering his head and shoulders. “G’bye.” He took a step out into the rain and it made a loud smattering noise over his umbrella.