Mad Like Me

On new meds today. Something that I couldn’t even pronounce, let alone spell, so I can’t tell you what it is. Dr. Gonzalez says it’ll take at least a week to kick in completely, but I feel a bit better already. Placebo FTW?

OMG GREAT NEWS!!! Jay helped me get my iPod back!!! I mentioned that one reason I’m feeling so depressed is that I don’t have my music, and he got it back for me! Details:

“Maybe we could try to get your mind off it?” suggested Jay. “Maybe we could sing?”
“Ugh,” I grumbled, putting my head in my hands. “Don’t remind me. I think half my problem is that I don’t have my music. Normally when I feel like this, I sing it away.”

“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s like when I sing, the pain leaves with my voice. It feels good. It’s kind of like screaming when you’re upset, I guess,” I added, remembering Luna’s trick.

“Why can’t you sing, then?” he asked.
“Because then people will think I’m a nutcase. Nobody sings without music. Besides Luna, of course.” I glanced over at my roommate, who was chirping a rather upsetting rendition of “Strawberry Fields Forever”.

“So? Who cares what they think?”
“I do, apparently. That’s why I need my iPod. But will they let me have it? No.”

Jay leaned back against the wall. We were sitting on my bed. I was wrapped in a sheet, as usual. Luna and Willow were out on what Luna called “couples therapy”. Whatever.

“Maybe I can help you get it back?” he suggested. “In any case, they seem to trust me more than you. For some reason. In all honesty, I don’t think I’m the more trustworthy out of the two of us.”

“Oh, hush. You’re fine. But I’d appreciate it if you could get it back.”

“D’you want to come with me? Or am I going solo on this one?”
“Do I have to unwrap myself?” I wriggled around in my sheet.
“Can you walk?”

I got up and tried, hobbling to the door.
“Success!” I cried, allowing myself a small grin. You gotta take your small victories where you can get them.
“Guess that settles it.” Jay got up and put an arm around my waist. I looked up at him, questioning what I really shouldn’t. “To help you walk,” he explained. “It won’t do anyone good if you fall over and break something.”

“True that. I like the way you think.” Figuring that it was okay, I pulled my arms out of the sheet and put my own arm around his waist and leaned into him. Not like it would mean anything, anyway. To him it would be like if a girl was leaning against me. No feelings attached.

It turns out that hobbling is a lot easier when you have a human crutch. I got to Dr. Gonzalez’s office with only one fall. And that was because Raquel had pushed me, so it doesn’t count. I was rather proud of myself.

Dr. Gonzalez was typing at her fancy laptop. Seriously, this thing put my boxy old desktop to shame. All sleek and shiny and shit. She didn’t even look up.

“Dr. Gonzalez, I have a request to make of you,” said Jay. “Cat needs her iPod. We think it speed her recovery.”

“I sing out my depression,” I added, trying to be helpful.

The doctor glanced up over her glasses, not lifting her head.

“I see. Well, I don’t see what harm it would do to give her a trial period with her MP3 player and see what happens. If you are in support of this, Jaybird, then I am sure the request is legit.” She scribbled out a note on her pink legal pad. “There. Take this to the front desk. They will go into storage and give it to you.”

“Thank you, maam.” Jay took the note and led me out.

“Dude, I don’t get it,” I said. “Why does she trust you and not me? I thought all the patients were equal. Don’t they take some oath saying that or something?”

“Yeah, I know. Playing favorites much?”

So we went up to the front desk, where they promptly took the note and let him go back into storage, while I was left outside. Under supervision, of course. I told him that mine was the silver iPod Classic with the music note stickers on the back. Sure enough, he came out with my iPod in hand.

I grabbed the iPod and hugged Jay so hard I expected him to cry out in protest. But he just hugged me back, albeit a lot gentler.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” I squealed. “I… just… ohmygoooood! Thank you! You’re a total lifesaver.”

Jay patted me on the back.

“Not a problem. That’s what friends do, right? They help each other.”

I swear, I could’ve just exploded with joy at that moment. I also could’ve hugged him and squeezed him to death, but I let go.

Arm in arm, we went back to my room. By this point I was on cloud nine, floating along as my adorably awesome gay crush kept me tethered to the ground. Singing lessons commenced. I taught him about forte, piano, crescendo, etc. He dutifully listened to my semi-coherent babbling ( yes, I talk like that even when I’m not ill) and nodded and smiled at all the right places. We have the same sense of humor, I think. Sort of snarky and a little dark.

“And when you crescendo, you should try to keep your voice in your throat, not your chest. Otherwise you risk sounding like a howling dog. Or, in your case, a very angry chickadee.”

“If I sound like any bird it’s gonna be a blue jay.”

I laughed in a dry, I’m-really-laughing-for-your-benefit sort of way. I was still very tired from last night’s panic attacks – which I would rather not relive by writing about, kthxbai – and now that the euphoria of hearing real, actual music had worn down, I was feeling the effects of pulling an all-nighter.

As I began the lecture again, I noticed blackness creeping at the edges of my vision. The room was swaying back and forth, and the head rush forced me to sink onto the floor, hands clutching my forehead.

“Cat? What’s wrong?” I heard him get up and felt a hand on my shoulder.

I waved him away.
“I’m alright. Just didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ll be better soon. I just need darkness for a while. That’ll get me straightened out.”

“Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the cure for sleep deprivation is, you know, sleep? You should probably get some rest.”

“Well,” I admitted, “maybe that would help.” I didn’t want to show how bad I really was. Surely I was crazier than he was, and if he knew that? God only knows what would happen. And that’s coming from an atheist. Nevertheless, I crawled up onto the bed, sheet still wrapped around me tightly. It felt more comforting than restricting.

Jay got up and headed for the door.

“Wait,” I managed to croak out. “Can you just do me a favor and get me a cup of water? My throat’s dry from talking so much.”

He agreed, and darted out of the room like a man on a mission. I just sat hunched on the bed, barely looking up when I heard the door open. I sipped my water. It was cold, trickling down my throat like a stream through a long-dried creek bed.

You know that feeling you get when you’re depressed? Like there’s a gaping hole in the middle of your stomach, and your heart’s been torn out of your chest? Like little sparks of electricity are racing through your veins and yet your body is weighted down by a ton of rocks? No? Then you’re lucky. Because that’s how I felt.

Normally, when I felt this way, I would take a bath. Something about the hot water seemed to take the feeling right out of me, at least, enough to get me back on track. The combination of that and singing while the tub filled up somehow made me feel better. But there were no baths here, only showers. So I went down to the shower room.

The tile was cold on my bare skin as I sat down on the floor. Hot water was spraying down onto my chest, trickling down my stomach and legs, onto the tile and down the drain. I watched the water’s journey with interest, imagining how life would be so much easier if problems ran right off my back like rain. Satisfied with the makeshift spa treatment, I began belting out my favorite tunes, hypnotized by the effect of my voice bouncing off the walls.

I’d pulled the curtain shut over the stall, to keep out intruders. Over my singing, I heard footsteps.

“You sure she’s in here?”
“Yeah, she told us where she was going.”

My voice stopped. What was Willow doing with Raquel? And why were they talking about me?

“Oh, so now she’s too scared to sing. Why are you afraid, little songbird? We aren’t going to hurt you.”

Raquel’s voice was right outside my stall now. I heard Willow’s footsteps echoing on the other side of the room.

Just ignore her and maybe she’ll go away. I went back to singing, though I could hear my voice shaking. The memory of how I got my latest bruises was still too fresh for me to be fearless.

I heard the curtain being pulled back. I couldn’t help myself. I let out a yelp of shock, covering my bare chest with my arms. Without turning around, I addressed her.

“Go. Away,” I said in a slow, steady voice.

“Fat chance, fat bitch,” I hear Raquel say behind me. “Yo Will, come take a look at this one. She’s even grosser under her clothes. Fat pig.”

I heard my sharp intake of breath. It felt like I was disconnected from my body, blood roaring in my ears.

“Come on, bitch, get up.”
“No,” I muttered.

I felt a cold hand on my shoulder.

“I said,” Raquel’s voice hissed in my ear, “get up.”

Slowly, covering myself as best I could, I stood, still not facing her. Her hand left my shoulder as she circled in front of me. Her eyes moved up and down my body, her face a portrait of disgust.

“Look at you,” she said. “You can’t even be bothered to take care of your own body? That’s just sad. It wouldn’t kill you to work out once in a while.”

“It could be worse,” I whispered. “I could be you.”

“What did you say, bitch?” she growled. Her fierce expression softened after a few seconds, and her face melted into a lovely smile, the sweetest poison you’ve ever seen. “I’ll get you later,” she hissed. “Will. C’mon. We’re done here.” She shoved me aside, and I heard the door swing shut.

I peeked out of the stall to make sure they were gone. As soon as I had confirmed that, I went to the bench, where I had left my clothes. They were gone.

Frantic, I looked around the room, searching in every stall. Nothing. That bitch took my clothes! I tried to figure something out. Maybe I could go out in a towel… no, that’ll look horrible. I’m fat, aren’t I? If I were thin, I could go out in a towel and people would like it. If I were thin, she wouldn’t be taunting me like this. But no. If I go out in a towel, they’ll only be disgusted. The only solution was to put my head in my hands and wait for help. I knew I would hate myself for it later, but what else could I do?

I sat in there for five hours, Journal, before the cleaning lady found me. She called the doctors in, and they brought clothes for me. I told them that I didn’t know where my clothes went. If I told on her, she’d only get worse, right? No. Better to take care of it myself.

What happened to that “truce” Willow and I had? One thing’s for sure: I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.