Freddie? His mum had typed again. When this one came in, he had been in the kitchen munching on some toast.
She decided to ring just as he was tying the laces of his sneakers and getting ready to head out.
‘Is everything OK?’ Freddie had asked. Already he was calculating the effect this would have on his usually perfectly timed commute.
‘I’m fine!’ Christine chirped. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m good, Mum. What’s up? Why are you ringing?’
‘You didn’t answer me.’
Freddie brought his phone away from his face so that he could flick to his messages. He saw two alerts and rubbed at his forehead.
‘I was getting ready for work,’ Freddie explained.
‘Usually you reply much more quickly. I was concerned.’
Freddie knew that wasn’t true. He remembered one time he’d left it until lunchtime to text his mum back. But he also knew that arguing would just delay the inevitable.
‘I was concerned,’ Christine insisted. ‘But now that I’ve caught you . . .’ There it was.
‘Mum, I’ve got to go to work. Can this wait?’
‘It’ll only take a minute.’
Freddie glanced up at the clock on his wall. He was running two minutes early, and if he didn’t resist, he might just get through the conversation with enough time to catch his usual train.
‘It’s just, at Lacey’s birthday party, you seemed stressed?’
‘You know how parties stress me out.’
‘But it wasn’t a party really, it was family.’
‘Family stresses me out too.’
He could hear his mother thinking across the phone line, trying to choose her words carefully.
‘Mum, I’ve really got to get going.’
‘You know I get worried about you, that’s all. We haven’t had a proper catch-up in ages – don’t think I don’t know that you’re putting off my calls – and your father said to just leave you be, but you know I can’t do that.’
‘You don’t have to worry about me, Mum, I promise.’
‘You’re taking your medication?’
‘I’m fine, I promise.’
‘We don’t want a repeat of last time. I just need to know you’re all right.’
‘I’m good. I’m going to be late for work, but I’m good.’
‘Right then. I’ll leave you to it. I know I annoy you sometimes.’
‘It’s fine, Mum.’
‘And I hear that you’re going round to your brother’s for dinner soon? Is that right?’
Freddie had forgotten he’d arranged that. Stella had invited him around for a meal and he’d absent-mindedly agreed without thinking it through. One of the items on the agenda was discussing the plans for his parents’ anniversary party, but he had wondered afterwards if there was an alternative agenda he should be thinking about and planning for. Now that his mother was aware of the arrangement, he wouldn’t be able to back out without raising more questions and worries. And more than anything, Freddie didn’t want them to worry about him.
‘Looking forward to Stella’s cooking,’ Freddie joked.
‘Don’t be mean, she’s improved,’ his mother laughed. ‘But seriously, I’m pleased that you’re getting on better with David. You know how much I’d love you to be closer.’
‘He doesn’t make it easy, Mum,’ he started rubbing at his forehead again.
‘You know how stressful his work is. How much time he puts in. He’s always needed a vent for that energy.’
He could find kinder ways to vent his frustration, Freddie had thought to himself.
‘There was no other reason for the call? Everything good with you and Dad?’
‘We’re swell. Don’t worry about us.’
‘Then don’t worry about me either.’
‘You know we have to, darling.’
Once he put the phone down, Freddie let himself take in a deep breath, then exhaled it in a loud sigh.
It had been years, but they wouldn’t let him forget what had happened, nor how bad it had been. He wished he could go and scrub the episode from everyone’s memories, make sure they knew that he was in control now and that he wasn’t prepared to let the intrusive thoughts get that bad ever again. The medication helped, but so did the stability of his job. It wasn’t a particularly hard or stressful one, although it had its moments, but it was enough. And anything more intense had the potential for dire consequences. It was about control, having mastery over himself, and not letting himself get into situations where outside stress could overwhelm him and make him forget all the hard work he had done.
He walked quickly to the station, but just caught sight of his usual train as it left the platform. His favourite seat was taken when the next train arrived, so he had to stand. Standing in itself was fine, it was the proximity to other people he couldn’t bear. Plus having to hold on to a rail. When he had been ill, just the thought of touching a railing or door handle was enough to send him into a spiral of loud thinking, the if/then mechanism of his brain overloading and running through a million consequences, none of them good. The only way to avoid those terrible consequences? Avoid doing the thing. Until his avoidance tactics made it nearly impossible to leave the house.
His family admitted him to a private hospital, Freddie only agreeing to go because the path of least resistance also seemed like the fastest way to get back out again. His plan involved playing along for a couple of days, then working an angle where he presented as ‘cured’. It would be hard work, pure method acting whilst his brain fried from the pressure, but worth it to get his family off his back. It wasn’t that he wanted to stay ill, but more to do with the fact that at the time he hadn’t seen much point in getting better. He’d been in a dark place. He didn’t intend on going back there.
The rest of the day was a scramble to get back into his usual routine. His rituals took time, required specific processes that were frustratingly invisible to his teammates, who seemed to always demand easy spontaneity from him. Just being a single minute off caused his stress to heighten exponentially.
At lunch time he got a text from Baz. Fancy pub after work?
Freddie thought about the last time they were together, about the conversation they were on the brink of having, the truths that seemed on the cusp of being revealed.
Busy tonight, Freddie texted back.
Tomorrow then?
It wasn’t that Freddie was scared of revealing he was a virgin. He’d done that already, and it turned out not to be that bad. He’d found people who understood him, who listened to him, and that helped to ease the pressure.
But that wasn’t the same as talking to Baz. His oldest friend, the man who had women falling at his feet at university, and who’d found his perfect partner and got married so soon after. What could he possibly understand about what Freddie was going through? And besides that, there was also the fact that all those years ago Freddie had lied to him. Did Baz know? Was that what he wanted to talk about? It might be a good thing to get it all out in the open eventually, but Freddie wasn’t ready. Not yet.
Lots going on right now, Freddie messaged, before turning his phone on silent.