First Cut by Robinson Peter

Author:Robinson, Peter [Robinson, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 1990-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

Kirsten

Y es, I am sure that Kirsten doesn’t need her stomach pumped,” Dr. Craven repeated patiently. “You saw for yourself, she brought up the tablets before they had time to work their way into her bloodstream. At worst she’ll feel a little sick and dizzy for a while—which is no more than she deserves—and she’ll probably have a heck of a headache.”

They stood in Kirsten’s room, where she lay tucked up in bed. Her mother was flapping about and wringing her hands like a character in a Victorian melodrama.

“You’re upset, understandably,” the doctor went on. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to take a tranquillizer and lie down for a while yourself.”

“Yes.” Kirsten’s mother nodded, then she frowned. “Oh, but I can’t.” She looked at her daughter. “She took them all.”

It wasn’t meant as an accusation, Kirsten knew, but she was made to feel once again that she had done nothing but make a nuisance of herself since she got back home: first she had refused to go out, then she had been sick all over the living room carpet, and now she was depriving her mother of the oblivion the poor woman so desperately needed in order to cope with the nasty twists of fate that had disrupted her life of late.

Luckily, Dr. Craven reached for her bag and came to the rescue.

“Samples,” she said, tossing over the small foil and cellophane package. Inside were four yellow pills, each in its own compartment. “And I’ll give you another prescription to replace the ones you lost. Kirsten needs rest now.”

She scribbled on her pad, ripped off the sheet and passed it over. The brusqueness of her tone and gesture got through even to Kirsten’s mother, who normally seemed impervious to hints that her company wasn’t required.

“Yes…yes…” Clutching the package and the prescription, she drifted toward the door. “Yes…I’ll just go and get a glass of water and have a lie-down…”

When she had finally gone, the doctor sighed and sat on the edge of the bed beside Kirsten. “She means well, you know,” she said.

Kirsten nodded. “I know.”

Dr. Craven let the silence stretch for a while before she said, in a tone far gentler than Kirsten would have believed possible for her, “But it was a silly thing to do, wasn’t it?”

Kirsten didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure.

“Look,” Dr. Craven went on, “I can’t pretend to know what you feel like after what happened. I can’t even imagine what you went through, what you’re still going through, but I can tell you this: suicide isn’t the answer. Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” Kirsten said. “It just seemed like a good idea at the time. I’m not being facetious. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Dr. Craven looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t enjoy being outside. I wasn’t really hungry. I didn’t fancy reading a book or watching television. I was just at a loose end. Then I thought I’d get drunk, then…I’ve not been sleeping well.”

“There are other options, Kirsten.

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