In the morning I shuffle into the bathroom, the hot water of the shower calling to me. I don’t want to leave; I want to just stand here. Maybe I’d eventually just drown; that’s easy enough to do in a bathtub, right?
It’s mortifying watching Hannah and Thomas look up from the table in the kitchen, both of their gazes settling on me. I can already see so much of what they’re thinking on their faces. It’s pity and sadness and fear and I fucking hate it so much.
“Hey, kiddo. How’re you doing?” Thomas asks.
“Fine.” I’m pretty sure we all know that’s a lie.
“Why don’t you sit down? I think we need to talk.” Hannah pats at the empty space on the table.
“Do we have to?”
“Yes,” Thomas says, no room for question in his voice.
I force myself to move forward, no point in running back upstairs and hiding in my room all day. Especially if they have a key.
“I think Dr. Taylor needs to know about what happened last night.” Hannah pauses.
“You didn’t call already, did you?” I ask.
Hannah shakes her head. “Didn’t want to do that without you. I remembered the confidentiality stuff and didn’t think you’d be comfortable without me asking you first.”
Maybe she just doubted that I’d ever tell Dr. Taylor myself, or maybe she was so scared of what I might do the next time this happened. “You can call,” I say.
“Do you want to talk to her yourself?” Thomas asks.
“No.” I won’t even know where to start.
“Okay.” Hannah searches through her contacts for Dr. Taylor’s number. I hear it ring for a few seconds, and then the muffled sound of her voice. Is she actually in her office on a Saturday? “Hey, Dr. Taylor. It’s Hannah Waller. Ben’s sister? I just, um … I don’t really know where to begin with this.”
There’s some noise, the sound of someone talking.
“No, yeah. Ben is fine. Well, kind of. They’re right here. But last night, there was an incident. I think it might’ve been a panic attack or something. And we just wanted you to be aware of it.”
Dr. Taylor says something else.
“Yes. I understand. Okay.” Hannah puts her hand over the phone. “She wants to know if you want to meet earlier than next Thursday?”
I shrug, a non-answer. But Hannah accepts it.
“If you don’t mind,” Hannah says. “Mhmm. Yes, thank you. I’ll bring them Monday right after school. Thank you, have a nice weekend.” Hannah ends the call. “Sorry.” She gives me a guilty look.
“It’s whatever,” I tell her. Maybe I’m actually a little happy she took the lead on this one. I don’t know, I think if I’d actually told them what I wanted to do, I might’ve said no.
“Ben,” Thomas cuts in. “Do you want to talk about anything?”
“No, just not today.” I try to make the words sound like a firm statement, but I doubt it actually comes out that way. “Please?”
Hannah and Thomas pass a look between them. “Okay,” Thomas says. “Do you need us to do anything?”
Even if there is something they can do, I doubt I’d be able to tell them. I’ve never been so scared like that. It was like I shut down. I couldn’t even speak; it was like my brain just refused to form the words.
“No, there’s nothing.”
Every night that weekend, I dream about my parents. I wake up covered in sweat, the sheets tangled around my legs. I only remember Mom’s face, the frigidity of that night. Saturday night I manage to fall back asleep after a while. Sunday is a different story though. No matter how hard I try, my mind refuses to rest. So after an hour of wrestling with my sheets, I know it’s no use. I’ll be a zombie tomorrow morning at school.
In some combination of my insomnia and curiosity, I go downstairs to the living room and pull out the laptop, googling the causes of insomnia, but that doesn’t help. One, because I’m not sure that’s what this is, and sometimes self-diagnosis can be dangerous. And two, the results yield anything from asthma to sinus issues to arthritis. None of which I’ve ever had to deal with. But there are two causes that stick out to me, right near the middle of the page.
Anxiety and depression are two of the key factors contributing to insomnia. Patients will usually experience—
I stop, almost looking up anxiety, but I don’t want to open that can of worms. I close the tab and grab my headphones, killing time by listening to one of my playlists and taking BuzzFeed quizzes. Eventually I go to Mariam’s channel and watch their latest video.
A few hours later, the sun starts to peek up from behind the curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow. Another night lost. I head back upstairs and take a quick shower. Hannah and Thomas are still asleep, or one of them is. I can hear someone moving around in their bedroom.
“Morning, Ben.” Thomas marches down the steps about an hour later, buttoning the sleeves of his shirt.
“Morning.”
He opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” I swallow the last bit of cereal and drink the leftover milk, which is the best part, honestly.
“Oh, that sucks. I’ve had those nights.” Thomas leans against the counter. “So …”
Uh-oh. I’m already bracing for the worst. “So …” I repeat.
“Nathan’s been asking about you.”
I eye Thomas suspiciously. “Asked what about me?”
“He, uh …” Thomas laughs, less like he finds this funny, and more like he doesn’t want to say the next part of his sentence. “He was wondering what he did to offend you.”
My heart drops. “Oh.” It’s all I can really think to say.
“I told him I didn’t think you were mad at him or anything. Just that you were going through some stuff.”
I open my mouth to ask a question, but Thomas is already one step ahead of me. “I didn’t tell him anything,” he assures me. “Kept it vague and mysterious, just how you like it.”
I let out a sigh of relief and walk over to the sink to rinse out the bowl. “Thank you.”
“He’s a good kid, just a little nosy.”
I glare at Thomas. “A little?”
That makes him genuinely laugh. “Okay, he’s a lot nosy, but he’s got a big heart. He likes to make people feel welcome.”
“Yeah.” I open the dishwasher, stacking the bowl so it fits perfectly. I don’t know what to make of Nathan yet, honestly. He seems cool enough, and he’s been nothing but nice to me since I got to Raleigh, almost to a fault. Like he has something inside him that’s telling him he can’t leave me alone for more than five seconds. “I should be nicer to him, shouldn’t I?”
“Maybe,” Thomas begins to say. “You should at least give him a chance. It can’t be easy, I mean, your life is … Well, a lot has happened over the last few weeks, Ben. You need someone you can talk to.”
“I thought that’s why I was seeing Dr. Taylor.”
“Okay, well, it helps to talk to someone your own age who you aren’t paying to dissect everything you say.”