“Just pull yourself together.” Yeah because life’s that simple. Idiot. (Esmee)

“Just pull yourself together.” Yeah because life’s that simple. Idiot.

 I finally took Kathy to the A&E and spent the four hours sitting in the waiting room with her while we waited for a doctor to do what I had known he would do all along. Panic. We did not talk much during our weight, but by then all the words that needed to be said had already been spoken. Kathy had told me to leave a million times but no matter what I missed and that included work, or how many times Emmet made my mobile shake in my pocket there was no way that I would leave her sitting in one of those seats all alone. I knew how that felt. I had waited for an hour, shivering and rocking curled up on the seat opposite from where I sat now until a nurse had come over to me and asked me what the matter was. I had never forgiven my mother for the way she treated me that day. Her excuse was that she was scared. My reasoning was that no matter what fear she felt she could not have been as scared as I had been.

In a way there was nothing much sadder than waiting in the A&E when your mind was sick. People came and go and you felt for them, babies cried from car seats and even drunk people made there presence known in the middle of the day but you knew that the reason you where there was a little different from the rest of them. That the triage nurse wouldn’t really know what to say even if your mouth could actually put into words why you were in the A&E on an uncomfortable seat, staring at the leaflets, rather than at home curled up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate. It was heard to vocalize a feeling that was like a pain but worse than that. It was not a sharp pain or a dull ache, it did not come and go or remain persistent and it was not localized to an organ or a joint. It floated around the skin and flowed in blood. It imbedded it’s self in the organs and most of all for no reason you could see or think off you wanted to make it all go away in any way you knew how. As for the reason why you weren’t drinking hot chocolate on the sofa - It was mostly to do with the fat that there was not enough strength left in your arm to lift the kettle and the sound of boiling water might actually make you cry for the rest of the day.

The outcome of the sad hours was even sadder of course. The stranger in green I had almost promised Kathy that would make it better said nothing and then left the room without an explanation. Kathy was so new to all of it I could have cried with the way her face looked when he had. It was hope at its best. A hope that I knew would be shot down, and it was half an hour later when a nurse entered the room with white wrist tags and an admission form before explaining there was no children’s psych  that could make it over until tomorrow morning to asses her properly and she would have to stay with them until that time. Of course that meant a call to her parents as well.

Kathy’s mother turned up fuming with her daughter. She was a short yet thin woman with little bird type legs that were slipped into grey tights and pushed into black designer boots. She had dyed blonde hair that was just growing out at the roots but would probably be touched up soon in some expensive salon with a posh name. She carried a designer bag and smelled of an overpowering designer sent. I could see what Kathy meant. Her mother would tolerate nothing but the best. Imperfection was not an option.

She demanded to know what the hell she was playing at as she texted someone on a smart phone; she also demanded that Kathy pulled herself together in a huff before throwing herself down on the chair I had vacated for her.

“She can’t just pull herself together,” I protested unable to keep my silence as roll after roll of defences blocked Kathy off from the real world she was sitting in the middle of. I had done this to her in some ways. I had took her here and now I saw the harm I had done and I felt sick to my stomach. I could not win in Kathy’s situation and neither could she.    

“Don’t be ridicules,” her mother shouted looking down her nose at my old tatty second hand size fourteen jeans and oversized t-shirt that hid my tiny baby bump from view. “Who the hell are you anyway?”

“I’m just a friend, someone who wanted to help. It doesn’t even matter,” I sighed turning towards the curtain that separated us from the rest of the A&E before turning once more and observing the shell that sat crossed legged on the bed playing with the white bands that had numbered her. “Take care of yourself Kathy,” I said gently, forcing a smile. She did not answer. She didn’t even look up. Then I was gone.