I nod, and watch as he gets himself into his chair and leaves. I hear the sound of his car doors, the rev of his engine, and lie back onto my pillow. This room, like all the other communal areas, is free of both clutter and character. Clean, white, almost like a hotel room. A hotel room I never get to check out of.
I feel the familiar tug of the black dog descending, and know that I need to get up, get moving, outrun it before it has a chance to drag me down into the undergrowth. I am more frayed than I thought I was.
I feel raw and jagged, too exposed. When I am this down, this vulnerable, I feel like I need the equivalent of an emotional soft-play centre. A nice, safe ball-pool to sit in.
I am still underneath the covers when Olivia comes into the room.
‘Sis?’ she says, poking me. I remain silent, and she pokes me again.
‘I know you’re there, Elena.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are. I can see your toes sticking out. You’re wearing those fluffy bedsocks with the pink stars on them.’
‘No, that’s not me. Go away.’
‘I can’t go away. It’s not in my nature to be told what to do. Are you taking me to college? I heard His Princessship leave a few minutes ago.’
I reluctantly sit up, and feel slightly better when I see that she has at least brought me a coffee. It sits wafting steam on my bedside table in a mug she bought me, one that has a picture of Russell Crowe in hisGladiatoroutfit on the side and the quote ‘I will have my caffeine, in this life or the next’.
‘Are you all right?’ she asks, staring at my face as though searching for visible cracks. ‘You look like shit.’
‘Wow. Thank you. I’m just tired. Em asked me to go to Mexico with her.’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘Okay. Is that what’s freaking you out? Are you scared in case you get caught up in another natural disaster? Or in case you develop a tropical disease? Or in case you die of a rare form of hypochondria?’
‘You can’t die of hypochondria!’
‘Yes, you can,’ she bites back. ‘I read about this girl once, on the internet, so it must be true. She was googling what it meant if you have dandruff in your eyebrows, and she died. She thought it might be a symptom of a rare brain tumour.’
‘Eyebrow dandruff?’
‘Yeah. Exactly the kind of thing that goes on in your crazy brain.’
‘Maybe. But I still don’t see how that killed her. Was it actually a sign of a rare brain tumour?’
I scratch my eyebrows as I say this, and am relieved to see they are flake free.
‘No. Don’t be stupid. She was so busy googling it she walked in front of a bus. So, you see, you can die of hypochondria …’
I shake my head, and drink my coffee, and let her continue to witter on. She can happily talk for hours; it’s just a matter of appearing as though you’re listening and nodding in the right places.
‘And then,’ she says, obviously coming to the end of an anecdote, usually my cue to look interested, ‘I realised that world really does seem like a better place when you’re on heroin!’
‘What?’ I blurt out, realising a moment too late that I have been played. She laughs and points at me.
‘Hah! Your face! I can tell when you’re not paying attention, you know. Anyway. I’m only in college for the morning; I’ve got study periods after that.’
‘Right. Doesn’t that mean you should go to the library or something?’
‘Nobody goes to the library any more, Grandma. It means I’m coming home to eat cake and watch YouTube videos and plot world domination. Or – get this – I was thinking about emptying Harry’s hair gel out of the bottle and filling it with Veet instead. What do you reckon?’
‘Leave Harry’s hair gel alone. I can’t promise to protect you if you make his hair fall out. He’ll kill you.’
‘He’d have to catch me first … anyway. Can you pick me up? At about one? I wouldn’t ask, but I’m too lazy to walk and the bus is full of common people.’
I shake my head, and puff out a breath of exhaustion. She is on a roll, and it is exactly the kick-start I needed. She has swept me along with her, infused me with some of her energy.
