Broken (21 page)

His answer stuns me a little, even though I don’t know the poor guy. “How do you deal with it? Death, right in front of you every day. How do you just…switch off?”

“I don’t,” he says, pulling out a chair from under the white table I’m sitting at. Taking a seat, he runs a hand through his hair. It’s the same shade of brown as mine. In fact, we look similar in a lot of ways, except I’m a couple of inches shorter and he has blue eyes. “It’s never easy, but it’s the job. And when you save someone, when you get to give their family the good news, it makes it all worthwhile.”

I’m a little in awe of my brother right now. Of course I know what he does for a living, but it’s not something we’ve ever really talked about before. It makes me realise we’ve never talked about anything significant. He’s always just been my sleazy older brother who takes the piss out of me at every available opportunity. But here, he looks so professional and intelligent. Seeing the blood on his clothes makes it hit me that
my
brother saves fucking lives.

“I’m proud of you, Tom.” The words fall from my mouth without permission from my brain.

“Steady on, T. I’m not sure I’m ready to take our brotherly bond to the next level.”

“I’m serious. Your job…it’s important.
You’re
important. People literally put their lives in your hands.”

“What’s going on? Something’s bothering you.”

“I’m fine,” I lie with the straightest face I can manage. “I just came to pick your doctor brain.”

“About?”

“Bipolar disorder.” His expression turns quizzical so I quickly tack on, “It’s research.”

“You’re still writing?”

I’m not overly surprised by his question. As with most things, it’s not something we usually discuss. “Never stopped.”

“It’s not my field, but I can try and answer any questions you have.”

Right, okay. Where do I begin?
“Is there a reason for it? I mean, does something trigger it?”

“Possibly.” Tom shrugs. “The cause isn’t fully understood. Genetics can play a part, as can chemical imbalances in the brain. But it’s an illness, like cancer or epilepsy. It’s no one’s fault. Sometimes, it just…happens.”

“So, if it’s a chemical imbalance, they can fix it, right? With chemicals. Medication. Replace the ones that are missing?”

Looking unsure, Tom clicks his tongue. “Mood stabilisers do as the name says. They lower the highs, elevate the lows. It’s important to find the right one. Everyone reacts differently. Then there’s therapy, counselling, learning how to take care of yourself, lifestyle changes.”

Does James see a therapist? I suppose he must.

“It can be an unpredictable illness. Manic or depressive relapses aren’t uncommon, which is why therapy is so important. It enables someone to recognise the warning signs so they can seek help before things get out of control.”

Nodding slowly, I absorb the information. “What are the warning signs?”

“I can’t say, Theo. Everyone is different, and their warning signs might be unique to them.”

“You can give me examples, surely?”

Tom pushes a puff of air through pursed lips while he thinks. I don’t like the word unpredictable. I need to know what I’m dealing with, what
James
is dealing with.

“Signs of mania can include restlessness, often high levels of creativity or productivity, what seems like a rise in ego, self importance, invincibility, recklessness…”

He could well be describing James, but his illness is under control. Although, invincibility? When he climbed up on that wall he was fearless, stupidly so. “But a person can be like that without being ill though. Can’t they?”

“Some people are arseholes regardless of their mental health if that’s what you mean.”

Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. James is definitely an arsehole – cocky, arrogant, patronising…but I love him.

“Irritability, sometimes violence can be signs, too. It’s not always a case of being off your tits happy.”

“And what about the depression?”

Tom’s expression confuses me. He looks almost concerned and, given that we’re talking hypothetically, I can’t figure out why.

“Lethargy, lack of interest in things they usually enjoy, feelings of hopelessness, becoming withdrawn-”

“And how would I-
someone
recognise that?”

“That depends on how good they are at hiding it. Some people will talk, get help, others will keep it all inside. It can be a very devious illness for some people. They either don’t recognise they have a problem or they don’t
want
to. That could be because they’re ashamed, they think it’ll go away on its own, or they feel worthless and like they don’t deserve help.” Tom shrugs. “Again, everyone is different, and everyone diagnosed should be treated as such.”

“But lethargy. That’s easy to spot. I mean you’d notice if someone looked tired all the time.”

“Possibly. But if they don’t want you to know they might disguise it with excuses. Being busy, headaches, the flu. I think ultimately, if you know the person well and have experience with their illness, you’ll learn to recognise the signs.”

Therein lies the problem. I
don’t
have any experience. Do I know him well? Possibly. But what if I don’t? Would James lie to me? I know he said he has in the past, to his brother, to doctors…but that’s because he didn’t think they’d understand, that they’d judge him.

“Like I said, it can be a conniving illness, but it
is
an illness. Whoever it is you’re talking about isn’t doing it to hurt you.”

“W-what?” I stutter, straightening my back.

“You’re my brother, Theo. I
know
you. This isn’t research, this is your reality right now.”

“I…” My brain freezes.

“You don’t have to tell me who it is, just know that you
can
. You can trust me, T. Confidentiality is part of my job description.”

I’ve never thought of it that way. Tom has always been the older brother who used to get me in trouble by grassing me up to our mum. I guess I didn’t notice him becoming an adult, despite him being older than me. On reflection, that seems so stupid.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” I admit. “He’s only just told me about the bipolar. Some of the things he told me, the way his mind works, it frightens me a little.”

“I take it things are pretty serious between you?”

Sighing, I drop my head. “I love him, Tom.”

“Wow. When did my little bro grow up on me?”

“About twelve years before
you
did.”

Tom’s mouth turns up into a lopsided grin. “If he’s as serious about you as you are of him, he needs to include you. Inform you. Talk to you.”

“He’s trying. I think.”

“What about his family? Do they support him? This isn’t something you should take on by yourself.”

“I haven’t met them yet, but I think his brother is there for him. I just feel so…nervous. I don’t want to, but I do.”

“Just remember he’s
not
his illness. It’s a part of him, but he’s still the same guy you first met.”

I’m unable to prevent the small laugh that spills from my mouth. “The guy I first met was a dick, but even then I saw something more in him.”

“Hold onto that. The
more
. And you know if he’s being treated, which I assume he is, there’s no reason to spend your life worrying, waiting for him to slip, because it might not happen. You can’t live like that, either of you. People hear the words mental illness and immediately think
crazy
. But he’s not crazy, and there’s no reason you can’t have a happy and positive relationship like anyone else.”

“You think so?”

“I think it’s important to be aware, arm yourself with as many facts as possible, about not only bipolar in general, but
his
bipolar and how it affects him, but don’t let it become the biggest part of your relationship. Don’t let it overshadow the man you fell in love with.”

“Thanks, Tom. I wasn’t sure whether to talk to you about this or not, but I’m glad I did.”

“I’m glad, too. You’re my little brother. You’ve annoyed the crap out of me since the day you were born but I’m here for you. I’ve probably never said it, but I assumed you knew that.”

“I do. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I guess I’m just not used to having a serious conversation with you.”

“Works both ways, right?”

My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Um, course, yeah.”

Tom groans, wiping his forehead on the back of his hand. “Jennifer’s pregnant.”

“Holy shit…”

Flipping roles, I spend the next twenty minutes being Tom’s confidante. Unlike during
his
turn, however, I don’t have any advice to offer. All I can do is listen, so that’s what I do. By the time his pager sounds, ending our conversation, I realise he doesn’t need my advice anyway. Understandably, he’s nervous, but he and Jennifer seem to have things figured out. I’m going to be an uncle.
Fucking hell
. Even more bizarre, my brother is going to be a
dad.

“A good friend of mine is in psychiatry,” Tom says, pausing by the door. “I’ll try and find out all I can for you.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

“Gotta run, but call me anytime if you need anything. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks.”

Tom leaves, holding the pager clipped to the waistband of his pants as he jogs down the corridor. Folding my jacket over my forearm, I feel better than when I arrived. Reassured. This is still so new to me, but Tom’s made me realise I’ve been seeing the future as a time spent waiting for the worst to happen, and it might not. I need to stop focusing on the bipolar, and start concentrating on James again.

*********

I plan to head home after leaving the hospital, but I’ve not even turned the key in the ignition when my phone vibrates in my pocket, alerting me to a text.

Tess: Any chance u can disappear 4 the night? X

Me: What do you mean?

Tess: Lucy’s here. I was hoping, coz ur the best friend in the whole world, that we could have the place to ourselves xxx

Is she seriously trying to kick me out of my own bloody flat?

Me: Who’s Lucy???

Tess: Someone important. Fill u in tomoz. Pretty plz??? Xxx

Huffing, I roll my eyes. I’m knackered, irritable, and I want to go to bed.

Tess: With a cherry on top? And sprinkles. And whipped cream. I’ll even throw in a flake??? X

Wow.
This
Lucy
must be important. Tess
never
begs. I start to wonder why she hasn’t mentioned her before and, in turn, begin to feel a little offended. We tell each other everything, or so I thought.

Me: Fine. But you’re on washing up duty for a week.

Tess: T – I FLOVE YOU! X

Great. Guess I’m left with two options – James or my mum. I know which I’d prefer, so I bring up James’ number and hope he’s not busy as I hit call. If I have to stay at my mum’s it would mean getting up ridiculously early tomorrow morning to avoid the rush-hour traffic on the way back into Manchester.

“Holden,” James barks upon picking up my call.

“Hey. It’s me,” I say, wondering why he doesn’t already know that. I’m assuming by his curt greeting that he didn’t look at the caller I.D. “You okay?”

“Sure.” He doesn’t sound even marginally convincing.

“I wanted to ask if I could stay with you tonight, but if you’re busy…”

“I’m never too busy for you, Theodore.”

I smile, relieved by his softer tone. “Tess has kinda kicked me out for the night. Are you at your apartment or the house?”

“Apartment.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

Christ, plaiting shit would be easier than trying to tease more than a single word answer out of James right now. “Do you like Chinese?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll bring food. Be there in half an hour or so.”

“Sure.”

Ending the call, I sigh with concern. Something must’ve happened during the few hours we’ve been apart because there’s no denying he’s in a bad mood. There’s no way to figure out what could be wrong without seeing him so, starting the engine, I set off to pick up dinner before heading straight to Spinningfields.

Armed with bags of food, I’m grateful to the security guy who opens the doors to James’ building for me. When I reach the penthouse, I use the tip of my shoe to lightly kick the door instead of knocking.

“Shit,” I mutter, noticing my foot has left behind a small scuff on the door. I’d obsess over it a little longer but it starts to open. Stepping inside, I see James is already walking away from me. I push the door closed behind me with my elbow and walk to the kitchen, setting the food bags down on the counter.