What Lies Between Us by John Marrs

Author:John Marrs [Marrs, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 41

NINA

TWO YEARS EARLIER

The new GP sitting opposite me scrolls through my medical notes on a computer. He’s at least a decade younger than me and there’s something white and pea-sized stuck to his hair just above his ear, as if he missed a spot when he was styling it this morning. I stop myself from leaning over and ruffling it until it dissolves.

It’s the first time I have seen him or any doctor since changing surgeries from the one where Mum works. I assume she knows I’m no longer registered there; not that either of us have mentioned it. It’s none of her business. In the aftermath of her sabotaging my adoption plans, I don’t want her knowing anything about my life or poking through my records.

A rift has opened up between us, even larger than the one when Dad left. Every spare penny I earn I am saving to get the hell out of that house and far away from her. My failure to adopt has hurt me in ways I didn’t think possible. For months, I have lived under a black cloud that I can’t escape. Dr Kelly is my last resort.

Despite his youthful appearance, I’ll give him his due – he has the sympathetic bedside manner of a GP with many more years’ experience. He listens when I tell him of my endless despondency.

‘And you’ve been feeling like this for how long?’ he asks.

‘A few months.’

‘Has it ever manifested itself into suicidal feelings?’

‘No.’

‘Not at all?’

‘No. I don’t want to kill myself.’

‘Have you had any desire to self-harm?’

‘No.’

‘Do you go out and socialise much?’

I want to lie and say yes, as it sounds better than admitting I spend most nights watching television with a parent I resent. ‘No,’ I answer truthfully.

We talk about some of the potential causes of what has left me feeling so flat. I touch on how I’m thirty-six years old and living a vastly unfulfilled life, but I stop short of telling him about Dylan’s death or the failed adoption application.

He returns to his screen. ‘I see you went through the menopause very early,’ he says. ‘Did you deal with the emotions attached to that diagnosis properly at the time?’

And as I give it thought, I realise I didn’t. I accepted it for what it was, put my head down and got on with living without Jon or Dylan. ‘Probably not, no,’ I concede.

‘Why would you like me to prescribe you antidepressants?’

‘Because I’m running out of options,’ I admit. ‘I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t bring myself out of this on my own.’

After the year I lost on high-strength antidepressants after Dylan’s death, I prefer to shy away from most medicines – even cold or flu remedies. So these are a last resort. My feelings of inadequacy have left me considering whether Maggie was right when she said I couldn’t handle stress. Perhaps I don’t have the coping mechanisms ordinary people have to deal with the day-to-day acceptance of failure and disappointments.

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