“Stop it, please. You can’t just kiss everything away.” I must have steam coming out of my ears judging by the way he jumped back.
“Hang on, give me a second to get dressed.” He disappears back into the laundry and after some clattering noises, it sounded as if a chair toppled over, he came out again, dressed in his jeans and a fresh t-shirt.
“What is the matter? I haven’t seen you this out of sorts for a long time. How can I help?”
“That’s just it, you can’t. Or do you think I’m too weak to sort out my own life and all I need is a logical, strong man to put my affairs right?”
“Hold on. Stop snapping at me. You know I admire you for your strength, don’t you?”
“I do, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I walk up to Scottie and stretch up on my toes to kiss him. “It’s still a touchy subject when people label us crazy. The problem is, discrimination is lurking around every corner. It’s them and us, the well people defending themselves against those they categorize as mentally ill. People accept us as long as we stay in our box.”
“What box is that, darling?”
I brush his darling away with a flick of my hands. “Don’t you understand? It’s demeaning playing the grateful receiver of psychiatric help and social services. People say, Oh no, that’s not true. We accept you, blah, blah, blah.”
“Are you saying they don’t mean it? Are you saying it’s only a pretense?” A frown carves deep valleys into his forehead.
“I’m sure they mean it at the time. However, I feel like saying: Really? You accept me? Will you let me look after your four-month-old baby tonight? Will you give me a job in your shop or your office? No?”
“I hear what you’re saying; all words and no action.”
“At least no action that goes beyond voting for more funds for mental health care. Besides, whatever they use the funding for may or may not help. It’s the attitude of each person that does the damage. They can’t shirk responsibility by voting and thinking they’ve done their bit.”
“You have to admit that’s a start.”
“I don’t have to admit anything. It turns us into second-class citizens. It’s not good enough to stand at the corner of the supermarket and collect donations for the mentally ill.”
“Isn’t that a positive beginning? You can’t change the world in two months.”
“Are you saying I’m too impatient?”
“A little. Give people time to change. You know how hard that is.”
“People had years. Actually, they had centuries. No, no, I disagree. The practice may no longer be putting the insane onto a ship of fools, into madhouses, or prisons.
“The modern method may be a treatment program. That may be a good thing, but things shouldn’t stop there. Mental illness isn’t contagious. We don’t differ from you. We deserve better.”
Scott holds up his hands in defense. “Don’t shoot, I’m on your side. I know you’re not crazy.”
“The ironic thing is most of these normal people go home and swallow a handful of antidepressants, anti-anxiety, anti-heaven-knows-what-pills, followed by some happy pills or whatever weed they can get hold of, and chase all of that down with glasses of wine, beer, or hard liquor. Ah, I’m so sick and tired of these double standards.”
By now Scottie holds me in his arms as if he’s afraid I’ll fly away and leave him behind. I don’t know if I have what it takes to keep fighting. It shouldn’t bother me that people don’t treat me as equal. It shouldn’t.
That’s when Sky’s voice, our voice of reason, our moral compass, as always finds the right words to pull me up.
“But if nobody speaks up things won’t change. Women would still not have the right to vote, homosexuality would still be a crime, and slavery would still be acceptable. We can’t give up now.”
I give a hefty sigh. She’s right. I lift to my toes and give Scottie a light kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I needed to let off steam. I’m good now. When you and Tom go on your hunting trip, we have all the time to think about what else we can do.”
“It’ll be two days until he arrives. If you feel so distraught, I’d like to find out if there are ways I could support you more.”
He catches me by surprise. He already does so much to let me know that he’s on my side. I should just stop moping around and get on with life. Like Elise does.
Chapter Four
Lilly: 3 March 2017, Morning, Port Somers
“You lose.” Scottie beams at me, his warm brown eyes sparkling with joy. Those are the moments he reverts to a boy who loves beating me at rock-paper-scissors. Who’s the multiple, now? I would never resent him for going bush with his friend—not after all he did for me… He can be such a child.
He’s rearing to get to his beloved bush and check out potential tracks for the hunt. I don’t mind picking Tom up from the bus. That way I can get our groceries on my way into town and drop into the vet for Prince’s shots. I clear the breakfast table, get his backpack from the laundry, and drop it by his chair.
“Don’t make me beg you to leave. I have a million things to do. If the bus is on time I’ll drop Tom off at your cabin about midday.” It’s funny to see him relieved as if he’s barely escaped prison. I have to make sure he’s doing his own thing more often. It’ll kill our relationship if he thinks he’s obligated to look after me all the time. That’s not how good relationships work.
It’s shocking but I’m becoming a relationship expert, second to Elise, of course. I’ve learned to
