Kiss Me Like you Did -IGHS Sequel-
Chapter Six
Taylor was excited. I could tell. I still knew him so well, it was painful, but somehow it felt like no time at all had passed since we’d last walked side by side down a footpath. Only this time, the itching I felt to reach out and take his hand couldn’t be scratched. I couldn’t believe touching him wasn’t allowed anymore. Even before we’d gotten together, hugging him and tackling him and tickling him and touching him had all been okay.
Now I couldn’t even tap him on the shoulder without feeling like the desperate ex-boyfriend. Which I was, I guess. Taylor had moved on, that much was clear. He’d moved on and gotten himself some mysterious illness in the process. And a mysterious boyfriend.
Ethan, Jacob, Johnny, and Noah seemed to think Ryan was okay, and obviously Taylor trusted him, so I knew I should try to get along with him. I would have to live with him for the rest of the year, after all. I just wasn’t sure I could handle that. Having Taylor around and knowing he was there to see Ryan and not me. Having Taylor stay over, and sleep in Ryan’s bed rather than mine. Waking up to find Ryan hadn’t come home last night and knowing where he was and why.
‘There it is!’ Taylor exclaimed happily, pointing further up the street to a skate park. ‘I knew there was one around here somewhere. Come on!’ He grabbed my hand and started pulling me faster up the street, then stopped dead and dropped my hand. ‘Um. Sorry,’ he muttered, looking at the ground, a blush creeping across his cheeks. ‘I didn’t think...’ He bit his lip and started walking up the street again quickly without looking at me, and I quickened my pace to catch up with him.
Taylor and I always hung out in the skate park at home, before he moved. We used to climb on top of the skate ramp, just sitting and talking, annoying the actual skaters who couldn’t use the ramp without injuring us, or themselves, or both.
Shaking off the hand-grabbing incident, Taylor quickly scrambled up one of the unused ramps, sitting on top and swinging his legs as he waited for me to join him. I slid back down on my first attempt; I was weak now, my muscles wasting away over the last year through lack of exercise and a diet of fresh air and not much more.
‘Here,’ Taylor said gently, reaching out to catch my hand and pull me up beside him. Trying not to be embarrassed, I took his hand, forcing myself to ignore the electricity that flowed though my veins as he touched me. I sat next to him, getting my bearings and looking around the park. It was handy to have one close by; even after Taylor left I liked going to the park to feel close to him. It had become a habit. I liked that I wouldn’t have to give it up, just because I’d moved 3,000 miles away.
‘So,’ Taylor started, then stopped, and a sideways glance confirmed that he was biting his lip. ‘Fuck it,’ he mumbled, and wrapped his arms around me tightly. ‘It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ I whispered, even as a tiny traitor voice in my head demanded, If you missed me so much, why did you stop talking to me? I hugged him back as tightly as he was hugging me, and we sat there for a few minutes, becoming a reacquainted with each other’s arms, bodies, smells. It was all exactly as I remembered. I’d preserved him perfectly in my head.
‘So what’s been going on with you?’ he asked eventually, pulling back to look at me critically, and I laughed, a little bitterly.
‘Me?’ I said incredulously. ‘What’s been going on with you? You’re the one who’s gotten yourself a-’ I cut myself off before I could blurt out “new boyfriend” and quickly amended it to, ‘mystery illness. What happened last night?’
Taylor looked away from me, glaring at the ground a little, before his expression cleared and he looked back up at me. ‘Don’t play that card with me,’ he said lightly, nudging me. ‘You’ve lost a shitload of weight Jakey, are you sick or something?’
He’d never once called me Jakey before, but I found I liked it.
I shrugged. ‘I just don’t have much of an appetite anymore,’ I answered honestly. I didn’t mention that the very thought of food makes me nauseous since he left. That it wasn’t just my appetite that had changed; that I could barely get out of bed most days.
So maybe my answer wasn’t that honest after all. He saw right through me though, as he always does.
‘And?’ he pressed. ‘What else? You’re paler too. You look like a fucking cancer patient or something.’
I pursed my lips, not wanting to tell him the truth, not wanting him to think I blamed him for everything when I didn’t. He took that the wrong way though.
‘Jesus,’ he whispered, his hand going to his mouth. ‘You have cancer?’
‘No!’ I exclaimed, shaking my head. ‘No, god no. Nothing like that. I just... I dunno. I have, um, depression, I guess. That’s what they’re saying anyway,’ I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. ‘ “Severe clinical depression”.’
‘Are you on meds?’ Taylor asked quietly.
I shook my head. ‘Refused them.’
‘I am.’
I looked up, frowning. ‘You are what?’ I asked, glad that the focus was moving off me and back onto him.
‘On meds. For my depression.’
‘You have depression too?’ I asked, not sure how to react. I guess I was surprised.
‘Among other things,’ he said lightly, tracing patterns onto his jeans and trying to appear nonchalant.
‘Other things like what?’ I pressed.
‘Just some stress disorders,’ he said dismissively, looking up and smiling broadly at me. ‘I have medication for all of them. And tranquilizers for when I freak out and lose my mind like I did last night.’
‘And Ryan’s qualified to administer them?’ I asked, trying desperately to keep my voice neutral.
‘My parents had to take a course when I first got sick. Then when I get accepted here and had to move, Ryan took the same course. I mean, I’m not gonna hire some nurse to follow me around. I’m weird enough as it is.’
‘Yay, it must suck being so short,’ I joked, trying to lighten the mood, and I got a genuine laugh from him.
‘Very clever, dickhead,’ he said, nudging me again. He’d have to stop doing that. I was becoming electrified every time he touched me.
‘So...’ I said. ‘What happened?’
Taylor sighed. ‘You’re not gonna drop this til I tell you the whole story, are you?’
‘If I do, Kelly will take up the mantle. And you don’t want that.’
‘Are you gonna tell her?’
I shrugged. ‘I won’t if you don’t want me to. You know that.’
Taylor looked at the ground. ‘No. It’s okay, you can tell her. Just, don’t tell anyone else.’
‘Of course not,’ I said gently, not able to stop myself reaching out and putting my hand over his reassuringly.
Taylor’s POV
I bit my lip as Jake’s bony, dry hand landed on mine, wanting to twine my fingers through his. I knew I couldn’t though. I had Ryan. And I couldn’t risk losing Jake again anyway...
I couldn’t risk falling for him again.
So instead, I threw my attention into explaining what had happened when I moved to California...
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As soon as we reached the new house, I went straight up to “my” room and curled up on the bed, crying my eyes out. I’m not typically a crier, but I think the circumstances justified the tears. I missed Jake. I missed him so much it ached. It was like a dull pain permeating throughout my whole being, and whenever I thought about him or remembered him, my stomach clenched and my heart felt like it was cracking into a million pieces and forcing its way out of my body through my dry, aching throat.
Still crying, I hurriedly unpacked my laptop and switched it on, logging into Skype and calling him.
‘Hello?’ I said desperately as soon as his image filled the screen, my voice clogged with tears and mucous.
‘Taylor!’ he exclaimed, and I could see his eyes were red-rimmed as well, even with the shitty quality of the picture. ‘How... Um. How was the flight?’
‘I-I-I,’ I stuttered, sobs wracking my throat. ‘I m-miss you s-so much!’
I saw Jake swallow and his hands fluttered uselessly in front of him. He wanted to hug me. He wanted to hold me tightly in his arms, and that’s where I wanted to be. Not in fucking California.
‘I miss you too,’ he whispered. ‘It hurts...’
‘Y-yeah,’ I agreed, letting my tears run down my face. ‘I w-want to come home. I hate it h-here.’
‘I want you to come home too. You could live here with us, you know my parents wouldn’t mind.’
‘They w-won’t let me,’ I replied, feeling like I was dying. It was a suggestion I’d argued with my parents about for the last two weeks since they’d told me we were leaving. But they didn’t like the idea.
‘I love you,’ he whispered, his arms unconsciously wrapping around him. I knew how he felt. Like he was holding himself together and if he let go, he’d fall to pieces. It was the pose I’d been holding ever since he’d kissed me goodbye at the airport in Ireland.
I l-love you too,’ I said. We sat there just looking at each other for a while, me occasionally letting a fresh wave of sobs wash over me. We’d always been good at silences, comfortable in them. Unfortunately, this was a transatlantic silence, and while it was 8pm where I was, it was 4am in Ireland and Jake had school the next day. He tried to convince me to stay online, but I made him promise to get some sleep. And then I switched off my laptop.
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‘What the fuck?’ I exploded, jumping out of my chair. ‘Are you fucking joking?’
‘Taylor,’ my dad in a warning voice, while my mom put her hand on my arm to try and calm me. She looked almost as upset as I felt. The doctor, sitting across from us behind her large beech wood desk, regarded us through her half-moon glasses.
‘Quite serious,’ she confirmed, looking at my parents rather than me. ‘If Taylor doesn’t move on with his life, his condition will continue to disimprove. He needs to cut all ties with his old life.’
I’d been seeing this psychiatrist for six weeks now and apparently I wasn’t showing any improvement. I was still unbearably depressed about my old life, and the only positive thing that had happened since I’d started seeing her, apparently, was my tentative friendship with a guy in my class called Ryan Chambers.
‘Are you sure?’ my mom asked, looking beseechingly at Dr Jones. ‘Jake was his best friend for most of his life, and they’ve been in love for a while. I can’t see how cutting off contact completely could-’
‘Mrs Hannon, please,’ Dr Jones interrupted my mom. ‘I know you care about your son and want to cure his depression. I’ve been dealing with depressed teenagers for ten years. All the usual methods – counselling, cognitive behavioural therapy, group therapy – haven’t worked. We need to take more practical action, and Taylor is always more depressed when he speaks to Jake.’
My mom looked at the ground, silent. She couldn’t argue that talking to Jake made me more depressed about the life I had now. But what they didn’t know was that the twenty minutes I got to spend talking to Jake a week was the only thing that made my life worth living.
‘I need to talk to Jake,’ I tried to explain. ‘I don’t think you understand-’
‘I know this is difficult to accept, Taylor,’ Dr Jones said gently. I hated how she was interrupting us. Weren’t shrinks supposed to listen? ‘But this really is the best course of action. Now, Mr and Mrs Hannon. I’m going to need your cooperation on this. Taylor’s time on the internet will have to be limited and monitored. Likewise his time on the phone. No letters, emails, texts.’
My mom looked a little horrified, and my dad’s expression was stony. I think they both knew in their hearts that it was a bad idea. But Dr Jones was the professional here, and she had the diplomas on the wall behind her to prove it. So they kept mum, and confiscated my laptop as soon as we got home. I didn’t even get to tell Jake what had happened.
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‘You wanna come over today?’ Ryan asked. He’d called the house phone – I wasn’t allowed a mobile (sorry, cell) phone while there was still a chance I might try to contact Jake – and was now trying to convince me to hang out. But I couldn’t. I had plans.
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. I knew Ryan had a crush on me, but I made sure he knew all about Jake. I didn’t have the energy to fight him off and rebuff him all the time, so I just whined on and on about Jake every time I was with him instead so he got the picture. Instead of ditching me as soon as he learned I had a boyfriend – or was in love with someone, at least – though, Ryan was clinging on, trying to “help” me. ‘I’m not really in the mood today.’
‘Oh,’ he sounded concerned. ‘Okay. Is everything alright?’
‘Fine,’ I said quietly. I also didn’t have the energy to try and convince him of the lie today.
‘Right,’ he said, clearly not believing me. ‘Tomorrow then?’
I almost laughed. ‘Sure,’ I agreed. ‘Tomorrow.’
As soon as I’d put the phone back on the hook, and checked that my parents wouldn’t be home for another two hours, I went up to the bathroom and swallowed the two months worth of Gerozac fluoxetine I’d been saving up with a bottle of vodka.
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Jake gasped, his hand covering his mouth. ‘You tried to... To...?’
‘Shh,’ I said, shaking my head, shocked at being brought back to the present moment. ‘Let me finish.’
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, but he took my hand in his again, and I squeezed it gratefully as I continued.
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I wasn’t really sure what was going on, but I was aware of bright lights and shouting, and a lot of people rushing around me. When I woke up, I was laying on a hard, uncomfortable bed that definitely wasn’t mine, and I groaned, knowing I’d failed.
‘What...’ I tried to ask, but my voice was hoarse and my throat ached with dryness.
‘Taylor?’ someone asked urgently, and a blurry face swam into my field of vision. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Unfortunately,’ I managed to whisper, feeling a whole new kind of disappointment wash over me.
‘Nurse!’ the voice shouted, and I realised I recognized it. It was... That kid. Ryan. ‘Nurse!’ he shouted again, then rushed back to the bed. ‘How do you feel?’
I managed to cough out a bitter laugh. How the fuck did he think I felt? I wanted to be dead.
‘I was so scared,’ he whispered. ‘I came over to see if you were okay, and I found you in the bathroom... You weren’t moving... And there was vomit everywhere... I thought you were dead.’
So it was his fault. I rolled over pointedly, turning my back to him. ‘Where are my parents?’ I croaked.
‘They went to get something to eat. I told them I’d stay with you. Do you want me to go get them? Where’s that fucking nurse...’
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I’d had my stomach pumped. I’d vomited a lot of the pills and alcohol up before the EMTs got to me, but I’d still had to have the rest forcibly ripped from my body in case I, you know, died anyway. Like I’d wanted. Suicide isn’t even illegal in California. I don’t see why they couldn’t have just let me get on with it. It was my right. The Samaritans had come to see us in second year about depression and self-harm and shit, and they’d told us that taking our own lives was our right. Which I guess was a stupid thing to mention to a group of fourteen year olds, who typically have a quite high rate of depression, but there it is.
Denying somebody a basic right. That should be illegal.
I was admitted to a clinic for depressed and suicidal teens, which I had to stay in for two months, under the care of a new psychiatrist, Dr Lyons, who admitted to me in one of our sessions that she wasn’t a big fan of Dr Jones. I asked her if that meant I could talk to Jake again, and she pursed her lips.
‘I don’t agree with Dr Jones’ decision to stop you talking to your boyfriend in the first place,’ she said carefully, watching me closely to gauge my reaction. ‘But I think it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to him that going back there could only be detrimental.’
Why didn’t anybody understand? Why didn’t they get that talking to Jake could never hurt me?
I stayed in the clinic for eight weeks and was finally released into the care of my parents, with a team of shrinks to see weekly and a cocktail of meds to take daily. I even had to have tranquilizers in case I went spastic some day and tried to take a fucking gun to school or some shit.
Ryan visited every day, even though I usually refused to see him, still angry with him for foiling my plans. Eventually I let him into my room and he sat on the window-seat while I lay in bed, ignoring him. He still came every day after that, sometimes bringing a book or magazine to occupy himself as I refused to acknowledge him.
One day I asked him why he kept on coming, and he smiled and said simply, ‘Because I want to make sure you get better.’
After that I started talking to him sometimes and three weeks later he kissed me for the first time. And then it just kind of progressed from there. I don’t think he ever officially asked me out, or I don’t remember if her did. We just sort of became a couple by accident. We were Taylor-and-Ryan. We went to Prom together, though all I could think about while I was there was Jake taking some other guy – or girl, even – to the Debs at home. So I didn’t really enjoy my night.
When we both got accepted to Brown, Ryan was really excited. I had been secretly harbouring the wish to go back to Ireland for college, but as soon as I broached the subject my parents saw right through me and put the kibosh on the idea. Even though I was still entitled to free tertiary education in Ireland, they opted instead to pay the ridiculous fees for Brown; my mom was earning so much at her new job that they could cover it easily.
And now here we are.
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‘And now here we are,’ I finished lamely, shrugging.
‘So you didn’t just... Forget about me?’ Jake asked quietly, our hands still attached.
I looked up, shocked and angry. ‘I told them they should have at least let me talk to you one more time. That’s why you got sick isn’t it?’ I demanded. ‘Because you thought I didn’t want you anymore.’
Jake bit his lip, and I knew he wanted to lie to me, to protect me from the truth, but he nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘That’s why I got sick too.’
‘I wish...’ I started, but cut myself off. There was no point in wishing now. Things were too different.
‘Me too,’ he whispered, and when I looked at him I saw a single tear sliding down his cheek. I reached out and wiped it away gently, and Jake turned his face towards me. We stared at each other for a minute, and then I leaned him and kissed him once on the lips.
Jake’s POV
When Taylor kissed me my head exploded.
‘We... We should probably try to stay apart,’ he said when he pulled away. ‘I can’t trust myself with you.’
I could feel my heart shattering all over again, but there was a tiny seed of hope growing in there too. As long as I could see him, know he was around, know he cared about me, know he was okay, I could be okay too.
‘Yeah,’ I whispered. ‘I agree.’
With which Taylor stood up and walked out of my life all over again.
Now I couldn’t even tap him on the shoulder without feeling like the desperate ex-boyfriend. Which I was, I guess. Taylor had moved on, that much was clear. He’d moved on and gotten himself some mysterious illness in the process. And a mysterious boyfriend.
Ethan, Jacob, Johnny, and Noah seemed to think Ryan was okay, and obviously Taylor trusted him, so I knew I should try to get along with him. I would have to live with him for the rest of the year, after all. I just wasn’t sure I could handle that. Having Taylor around and knowing he was there to see Ryan and not me. Having Taylor stay over, and sleep in Ryan’s bed rather than mine. Waking up to find Ryan hadn’t come home last night and knowing where he was and why.
‘There it is!’ Taylor exclaimed happily, pointing further up the street to a skate park. ‘I knew there was one around here somewhere. Come on!’ He grabbed my hand and started pulling me faster up the street, then stopped dead and dropped my hand. ‘Um. Sorry,’ he muttered, looking at the ground, a blush creeping across his cheeks. ‘I didn’t think...’ He bit his lip and started walking up the street again quickly without looking at me, and I quickened my pace to catch up with him.
Taylor and I always hung out in the skate park at home, before he moved. We used to climb on top of the skate ramp, just sitting and talking, annoying the actual skaters who couldn’t use the ramp without injuring us, or themselves, or both.
Shaking off the hand-grabbing incident, Taylor quickly scrambled up one of the unused ramps, sitting on top and swinging his legs as he waited for me to join him. I slid back down on my first attempt; I was weak now, my muscles wasting away over the last year through lack of exercise and a diet of fresh air and not much more.
‘Here,’ Taylor said gently, reaching out to catch my hand and pull me up beside him. Trying not to be embarrassed, I took his hand, forcing myself to ignore the electricity that flowed though my veins as he touched me. I sat next to him, getting my bearings and looking around the park. It was handy to have one close by; even after Taylor left I liked going to the park to feel close to him. It had become a habit. I liked that I wouldn’t have to give it up, just because I’d moved 3,000 miles away.
‘So,’ Taylor started, then stopped, and a sideways glance confirmed that he was biting his lip. ‘Fuck it,’ he mumbled, and wrapped his arms around me tightly. ‘It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ I whispered, even as a tiny traitor voice in my head demanded, If you missed me so much, why did you stop talking to me? I hugged him back as tightly as he was hugging me, and we sat there for a few minutes, becoming a reacquainted with each other’s arms, bodies, smells. It was all exactly as I remembered. I’d preserved him perfectly in my head.
‘So what’s been going on with you?’ he asked eventually, pulling back to look at me critically, and I laughed, a little bitterly.
‘Me?’ I said incredulously. ‘What’s been going on with you? You’re the one who’s gotten yourself a-’ I cut myself off before I could blurt out “new boyfriend” and quickly amended it to, ‘mystery illness. What happened last night?’
Taylor looked away from me, glaring at the ground a little, before his expression cleared and he looked back up at me. ‘Don’t play that card with me,’ he said lightly, nudging me. ‘You’ve lost a shitload of weight Jakey, are you sick or something?’
He’d never once called me Jakey before, but I found I liked it.
I shrugged. ‘I just don’t have much of an appetite anymore,’ I answered honestly. I didn’t mention that the very thought of food makes me nauseous since he left. That it wasn’t just my appetite that had changed; that I could barely get out of bed most days.
So maybe my answer wasn’t that honest after all. He saw right through me though, as he always does.
‘And?’ he pressed. ‘What else? You’re paler too. You look like a fucking cancer patient or something.’
I pursed my lips, not wanting to tell him the truth, not wanting him to think I blamed him for everything when I didn’t. He took that the wrong way though.
‘Jesus,’ he whispered, his hand going to his mouth. ‘You have cancer?’
‘No!’ I exclaimed, shaking my head. ‘No, god no. Nothing like that. I just... I dunno. I have, um, depression, I guess. That’s what they’re saying anyway,’ I mumbled, avoiding his gaze. ‘ “Severe clinical depression”.’
‘Are you on meds?’ Taylor asked quietly.
I shook my head. ‘Refused them.’
‘I am.’
I looked up, frowning. ‘You are what?’ I asked, glad that the focus was moving off me and back onto him.
‘On meds. For my depression.’
‘You have depression too?’ I asked, not sure how to react. I guess I was surprised.
‘Among other things,’ he said lightly, tracing patterns onto his jeans and trying to appear nonchalant.
‘Other things like what?’ I pressed.
‘Just some stress disorders,’ he said dismissively, looking up and smiling broadly at me. ‘I have medication for all of them. And tranquilizers for when I freak out and lose my mind like I did last night.’
‘And Ryan’s qualified to administer them?’ I asked, trying desperately to keep my voice neutral.
‘My parents had to take a course when I first got sick. Then when I get accepted here and had to move, Ryan took the same course. I mean, I’m not gonna hire some nurse to follow me around. I’m weird enough as it is.’
‘Yay, it must suck being so short,’ I joked, trying to lighten the mood, and I got a genuine laugh from him.
‘Very clever, dickhead,’ he said, nudging me again. He’d have to stop doing that. I was becoming electrified every time he touched me.
‘So...’ I said. ‘What happened?’
Taylor sighed. ‘You’re not gonna drop this til I tell you the whole story, are you?’
‘If I do, Kelly will take up the mantle. And you don’t want that.’
‘Are you gonna tell her?’
I shrugged. ‘I won’t if you don’t want me to. You know that.’
Taylor looked at the ground. ‘No. It’s okay, you can tell her. Just, don’t tell anyone else.’
‘Of course not,’ I said gently, not able to stop myself reaching out and putting my hand over his reassuringly.
Taylor’s POV
I bit my lip as Jake’s bony, dry hand landed on mine, wanting to twine my fingers through his. I knew I couldn’t though. I had Ryan. And I couldn’t risk losing Jake again anyway...
I couldn’t risk falling for him again.
So instead, I threw my attention into explaining what had happened when I moved to California...
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As soon as we reached the new house, I went straight up to “my” room and curled up on the bed, crying my eyes out. I’m not typically a crier, but I think the circumstances justified the tears. I missed Jake. I missed him so much it ached. It was like a dull pain permeating throughout my whole being, and whenever I thought about him or remembered him, my stomach clenched and my heart felt like it was cracking into a million pieces and forcing its way out of my body through my dry, aching throat.
Still crying, I hurriedly unpacked my laptop and switched it on, logging into Skype and calling him.
‘Hello?’ I said desperately as soon as his image filled the screen, my voice clogged with tears and mucous.
‘Taylor!’ he exclaimed, and I could see his eyes were red-rimmed as well, even with the shitty quality of the picture. ‘How... Um. How was the flight?’
‘I-I-I,’ I stuttered, sobs wracking my throat. ‘I m-miss you s-so much!’
I saw Jake swallow and his hands fluttered uselessly in front of him. He wanted to hug me. He wanted to hold me tightly in his arms, and that’s where I wanted to be. Not in fucking California.
‘I miss you too,’ he whispered. ‘It hurts...’
‘Y-yeah,’ I agreed, letting my tears run down my face. ‘I w-want to come home. I hate it h-here.’
‘I want you to come home too. You could live here with us, you know my parents wouldn’t mind.’
‘They w-won’t let me,’ I replied, feeling like I was dying. It was a suggestion I’d argued with my parents about for the last two weeks since they’d told me we were leaving. But they didn’t like the idea.
‘I love you,’ he whispered, his arms unconsciously wrapping around him. I knew how he felt. Like he was holding himself together and if he let go, he’d fall to pieces. It was the pose I’d been holding ever since he’d kissed me goodbye at the airport in Ireland.
I l-love you too,’ I said. We sat there just looking at each other for a while, me occasionally letting a fresh wave of sobs wash over me. We’d always been good at silences, comfortable in them. Unfortunately, this was a transatlantic silence, and while it was 8pm where I was, it was 4am in Ireland and Jake had school the next day. He tried to convince me to stay online, but I made him promise to get some sleep. And then I switched off my laptop.
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‘What the fuck?’ I exploded, jumping out of my chair. ‘Are you fucking joking?’
‘Taylor,’ my dad in a warning voice, while my mom put her hand on my arm to try and calm me. She looked almost as upset as I felt. The doctor, sitting across from us behind her large beech wood desk, regarded us through her half-moon glasses.
‘Quite serious,’ she confirmed, looking at my parents rather than me. ‘If Taylor doesn’t move on with his life, his condition will continue to disimprove. He needs to cut all ties with his old life.’
I’d been seeing this psychiatrist for six weeks now and apparently I wasn’t showing any improvement. I was still unbearably depressed about my old life, and the only positive thing that had happened since I’d started seeing her, apparently, was my tentative friendship with a guy in my class called Ryan Chambers.
‘Are you sure?’ my mom asked, looking beseechingly at Dr Jones. ‘Jake was his best friend for most of his life, and they’ve been in love for a while. I can’t see how cutting off contact completely could-’
‘Mrs Hannon, please,’ Dr Jones interrupted my mom. ‘I know you care about your son and want to cure his depression. I’ve been dealing with depressed teenagers for ten years. All the usual methods – counselling, cognitive behavioural therapy, group therapy – haven’t worked. We need to take more practical action, and Taylor is always more depressed when he speaks to Jake.’
My mom looked at the ground, silent. She couldn’t argue that talking to Jake made me more depressed about the life I had now. But what they didn’t know was that the twenty minutes I got to spend talking to Jake a week was the only thing that made my life worth living.
‘I need to talk to Jake,’ I tried to explain. ‘I don’t think you understand-’
‘I know this is difficult to accept, Taylor,’ Dr Jones said gently. I hated how she was interrupting us. Weren’t shrinks supposed to listen? ‘But this really is the best course of action. Now, Mr and Mrs Hannon. I’m going to need your cooperation on this. Taylor’s time on the internet will have to be limited and monitored. Likewise his time on the phone. No letters, emails, texts.’
My mom looked a little horrified, and my dad’s expression was stony. I think they both knew in their hearts that it was a bad idea. But Dr Jones was the professional here, and she had the diplomas on the wall behind her to prove it. So they kept mum, and confiscated my laptop as soon as we got home. I didn’t even get to tell Jake what had happened.
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‘You wanna come over today?’ Ryan asked. He’d called the house phone – I wasn’t allowed a mobile (sorry, cell) phone while there was still a chance I might try to contact Jake – and was now trying to convince me to hang out. But I couldn’t. I had plans.
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. I knew Ryan had a crush on me, but I made sure he knew all about Jake. I didn’t have the energy to fight him off and rebuff him all the time, so I just whined on and on about Jake every time I was with him instead so he got the picture. Instead of ditching me as soon as he learned I had a boyfriend – or was in love with someone, at least – though, Ryan was clinging on, trying to “help” me. ‘I’m not really in the mood today.’
‘Oh,’ he sounded concerned. ‘Okay. Is everything alright?’
‘Fine,’ I said quietly. I also didn’t have the energy to try and convince him of the lie today.
‘Right,’ he said, clearly not believing me. ‘Tomorrow then?’
I almost laughed. ‘Sure,’ I agreed. ‘Tomorrow.’
As soon as I’d put the phone back on the hook, and checked that my parents wouldn’t be home for another two hours, I went up to the bathroom and swallowed the two months worth of Gerozac fluoxetine I’d been saving up with a bottle of vodka.
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Jake gasped, his hand covering his mouth. ‘You tried to... To...?’
‘Shh,’ I said, shaking my head, shocked at being brought back to the present moment. ‘Let me finish.’
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, but he took my hand in his again, and I squeezed it gratefully as I continued.
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I wasn’t really sure what was going on, but I was aware of bright lights and shouting, and a lot of people rushing around me. When I woke up, I was laying on a hard, uncomfortable bed that definitely wasn’t mine, and I groaned, knowing I’d failed.
‘What...’ I tried to ask, but my voice was hoarse and my throat ached with dryness.
‘Taylor?’ someone asked urgently, and a blurry face swam into my field of vision. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Unfortunately,’ I managed to whisper, feeling a whole new kind of disappointment wash over me.
‘Nurse!’ the voice shouted, and I realised I recognized it. It was... That kid. Ryan. ‘Nurse!’ he shouted again, then rushed back to the bed. ‘How do you feel?’
I managed to cough out a bitter laugh. How the fuck did he think I felt? I wanted to be dead.
‘I was so scared,’ he whispered. ‘I came over to see if you were okay, and I found you in the bathroom... You weren’t moving... And there was vomit everywhere... I thought you were dead.’
So it was his fault. I rolled over pointedly, turning my back to him. ‘Where are my parents?’ I croaked.
‘They went to get something to eat. I told them I’d stay with you. Do you want me to go get them? Where’s that fucking nurse...’
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I’d had my stomach pumped. I’d vomited a lot of the pills and alcohol up before the EMTs got to me, but I’d still had to have the rest forcibly ripped from my body in case I, you know, died anyway. Like I’d wanted. Suicide isn’t even illegal in California. I don’t see why they couldn’t have just let me get on with it. It was my right. The Samaritans had come to see us in second year about depression and self-harm and shit, and they’d told us that taking our own lives was our right. Which I guess was a stupid thing to mention to a group of fourteen year olds, who typically have a quite high rate of depression, but there it is.
Denying somebody a basic right. That should be illegal.
I was admitted to a clinic for depressed and suicidal teens, which I had to stay in for two months, under the care of a new psychiatrist, Dr Lyons, who admitted to me in one of our sessions that she wasn’t a big fan of Dr Jones. I asked her if that meant I could talk to Jake again, and she pursed her lips.
‘I don’t agree with Dr Jones’ decision to stop you talking to your boyfriend in the first place,’ she said carefully, watching me closely to gauge my reaction. ‘But I think it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to him that going back there could only be detrimental.’
Why didn’t anybody understand? Why didn’t they get that talking to Jake could never hurt me?
I stayed in the clinic for eight weeks and was finally released into the care of my parents, with a team of shrinks to see weekly and a cocktail of meds to take daily. I even had to have tranquilizers in case I went spastic some day and tried to take a fucking gun to school or some shit.
Ryan visited every day, even though I usually refused to see him, still angry with him for foiling my plans. Eventually I let him into my room and he sat on the window-seat while I lay in bed, ignoring him. He still came every day after that, sometimes bringing a book or magazine to occupy himself as I refused to acknowledge him.
One day I asked him why he kept on coming, and he smiled and said simply, ‘Because I want to make sure you get better.’
After that I started talking to him sometimes and three weeks later he kissed me for the first time. And then it just kind of progressed from there. I don’t think he ever officially asked me out, or I don’t remember if her did. We just sort of became a couple by accident. We were Taylor-and-Ryan. We went to Prom together, though all I could think about while I was there was Jake taking some other guy – or girl, even – to the Debs at home. So I didn’t really enjoy my night.
When we both got accepted to Brown, Ryan was really excited. I had been secretly harbouring the wish to go back to Ireland for college, but as soon as I broached the subject my parents saw right through me and put the kibosh on the idea. Even though I was still entitled to free tertiary education in Ireland, they opted instead to pay the ridiculous fees for Brown; my mom was earning so much at her new job that they could cover it easily.
And now here we are.
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‘And now here we are,’ I finished lamely, shrugging.
‘So you didn’t just... Forget about me?’ Jake asked quietly, our hands still attached.
I looked up, shocked and angry. ‘I told them they should have at least let me talk to you one more time. That’s why you got sick isn’t it?’ I demanded. ‘Because you thought I didn’t want you anymore.’
Jake bit his lip, and I knew he wanted to lie to me, to protect me from the truth, but he nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘That’s why I got sick too.’
‘I wish...’ I started, but cut myself off. There was no point in wishing now. Things were too different.
‘Me too,’ he whispered, and when I looked at him I saw a single tear sliding down his cheek. I reached out and wiped it away gently, and Jake turned his face towards me. We stared at each other for a minute, and then I leaned him and kissed him once on the lips.
Jake’s POV
When Taylor kissed me my head exploded.
‘We... We should probably try to stay apart,’ he said when he pulled away. ‘I can’t trust myself with you.’
I could feel my heart shattering all over again, but there was a tiny seed of hope growing in there too. As long as I could see him, know he was around, know he cared about me, know he was okay, I could be okay too.
‘Yeah,’ I whispered. ‘I agree.’
With which Taylor stood up and walked out of my life all over again.