Eighteen

 

‘I got you vanilla, chocolate and mint. Hope that’s alright,’ Nico slid a glass bowl across the tiny table. ‘It’s the best gelato in London.’

Less than an hour after calling Nico and asking to meet, Seph slid into a tiny chair opposite him. Just like the last time, she’d caught the Tube to Covent Garden, the central point between her home and his office. But, unlike last time, they were surrounded by a riot of colour in the quirky and compact surroundings of Neal’s Yard. The aroma of fresh pizza wafted out from the restaurant next door and from behind Nico, she caught the mellow tang of essential oils from Neal’s Yard Remedies. Maybe she should have stopped in there first to get something to calm herself down.

Seph put her bag on her lap and tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘We need to talk about this bipolar stuff.’

‘Straight in with the heavy stuff today, eh?’ Nico’s eyes flicked up as a couple walked past them. He fiddled with his tie for a second before looking back at her. ‘What do you need to know?’

She looked down into her bowl. The balls of gelato were already starting to melt in the sun, their colours melding into each other as their physical structure changed. She knew the feeling. Lately, she seemed to be shifting from one thing to another herself.

‘How is it? I mean, what is it? I mean, I know what it is but what I don’t know is...’ she took a breath and closed her eyes. Why did her tongue feel so thick? It was stopping her from getting the words out. Seph opened her eyes again, looking at Nico. ‘Was it the reason you got in touch? Were you in some kind of manic phase?’

‘What? No, of course not.’ Nico reached across the table but seemed to think better of touching her. He laid his hand on the wrought iron surface instead. ‘My wanting to know you has nothing to do with anything else.’

‘But bipolar doesn’t just go away.’ Her eyes searched his. ‘Was it really why you left?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘It’s not as simple as that. It was part of it, sure. But, I was also a massive arsehole.’

Seph raised her eyebrows and leaned back in her chair. It was a brutally honest self-assessment.

‘I wasn’t a good boyfriend back then, let alone a good dad. I didn’t know what was wrong at the time but what I did know, was that I couldn’t look after a girlfriend and a baby when it was so hard to look after myself.’

‘But you’ve got a family now. So what changed?’

‘Medication,’ he replied simply. ‘I was diagnosed after I left. I wanted to tell your mum but I couldn’t. I’d made such a big mess of things. It wasn’t an easy thing to admit to.’

‘So she didn’t know you had it at the time?’

‘If I had no idea then she definitely wouldn’t have. It wasn’t as talked about back then as it is now. And even if she did somehow know, I doubt it would have made much difference. I’m fairly sure she still hasn’t forgiven me.’

Seph shook her head. ‘Probably never will.’

‘It’s not always easy being with someone who’s got this, especially when its undiagnosed. We were young and she tried, really hard. We both did, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was.’

‘Not even love? Or a kid?’

‘Nothing. Not when I was up and not when I was down.’

Seph blinked. He was honest, if nothing else. Part of her reasoned that it was nothing personal, but his comment stung. Seph poked the small plastic spoon into the pool of multi-coloured melting gloop in front of her. The air it was exposed to had created strange pockmarks in its texture. Looking at it made her stomach turn and she pushed it away.

‘But now you’re on medication and everything’s super nice and bright and rosy?’ she mumbled.

‘Sometimes. And sometimes it’s pissing it down and thorny.’ Nico tilted his head to one side with a tiny fraction of a smile. Clearly he’d caught the hint of bitterness behind her remark. ‘The medication helps. It’s been a long road to finding the right one with the right dosage, but it helps. I’ve got a family and a job that just about pays the bills. The days when I lie in bed depressed for weeks on end are few and far between, thank God. Same goes for the days when I’d go mad maxing out my credit cards and buying everything I set my eyes on. I can live a normal life. I do live a normal life, most of the time. It’s not as exciting as it used to be and I don’t always get it right, but it’s mine.’

‘Was it always bad?’ Seph asked.

‘God, no. Those highs…’ He shook his head with a small smile and leaned back in his chair. ‘Sometimes, it can make you feel like you’re on top of the world. That’s hypomania. I tell you, there were days when I felt like I could’ve done anything. I probably could have. The sheer amount of energy and drive…’ He shook his head again. ‘I felt invincible.’

‘So why take medication?’

‘Because it’s a fine line between hypomania and full blown mania. Hypomania is milder, like that feeling you get when you have a run of good luck. For me, it was what helped to get stuff done and push things forward. You know those days when things just seem to go your way?’ he asked, and Seph nodded. ‘I’d have those all the time. I’d get an idea, put a plan together and then, boom. It would happen. The roads would be empty when I needed to get to the other side of town, I’d get money when I needed it. Things would just fall into place. But mania is a different animal. Mania makes you do things you can’t take back. It takes things out of control and you don’t care about consequences because you don’t think there are any. It’s like that point between being happily drunk and having that extra shot that tips you over the edge. Until the hangover of depression kicked in, which it always did.’ He visibly shuddered. ‘You know what the messed up thing is, though?’

Seph shook her head.

‘Even with all of the bad stuff, and there was a lot…I still don’t think I’d wish it all away.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’

Nico nodded. ‘It’s part of who I am. I think it’s even made me who I am. You wouldn’t believe how many other people I’ve met with bipolar who say the same.’

‘Sounds complicated.’

‘That’s because it is.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Was there anything else you wanted to know?’

She shrugged, shifting on her chair. His direct gaze was uncomfortable on her skin. It gave her the feeling that he could see right through her. As if he could see for himself just how ridiculous she’d acted yesterday with Ben, and that she had no idea why.

After their argument, she’d sat alone in the bedroom seething with resentment and picking over everything they’d said to each other. It had been like looking into a mirror and seeing the very worst of herself reflected back. She’d been unreasonable and irrational, unable to stop her path to destruction and saying things she knew she’d regret. 

‘Is it something you’re worried about?’ Nico asked.

‘Should I be?’

‘They say that kids of parents with bipolar or depression are more likely to get ill themselves. It’s something we’re conscious of with Alexis.’

Seph shook her head. ‘I’m not worried. I’ve never had any problems like that.’ She picked up the spoon and twisted it in the gelato. ‘Well, there was the time after my uncle died, but that was different.’

‘George?’ Nico leant forward with his eyebrows raised. ‘He died?’

‘Yeah. Almost seven years ago, now.’ Seph pushed the paper cup away and looked at Nico. ‘Didn’t Mum tell you when you met?’

Nico shook his head a little. ‘No, she didn’t. She didn’t stay very long. How did he die?’

‘Cancer. It was pretty quick.’

‘He was a good guy. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but he was. I’m sorry.’

Seph scooped her hair around her shoulder. ‘Thanks.’

She rubbed her arm as tiny goosebumps peeped up on her skin. Being the one to tell someone who’d known George that he was dead was strange. She’d never had to do it before. As another pizza was delivered to a table behind her, she caught the scent of oregano. Along with colourful surroundings and the London summertime, oregano was one of George’s favourite things. She liked to think that the presence of all three meant that he was somehow close.

Nico cleared his throat. ‘So what about after he died? You said you had some problems?’

‘Not really. I mean, it was hard, of course. I was at uni at the time. It was a lot to cope with.’

She could’ve told him about the way everything had been wrong back then, or how empty she’d felt inside –empty and yet somehow simultaneously filled with anger and despair. She could’ve told him that she’d dropped two dress sizes from not eating or the one thing she’d never told anyone else before: that at one point when it had felt so bad, so painful and black, she’d considered ending it all.

She pulled a box of cigarettes from her bag. What would be the point in going into all that now? It had been a normal reaction to grief, and it was a lifetime ago. Things were better now.

‘And since then?’ Nico prompted.

‘Oh, I’ve never had anything like that since. Just normal ups and downs, like everyone else.’

He nodded, keeping his eyes on her as she lit up. ‘I thought you said you’d quit?’

‘I had.’

‘It’s a tough habit to kick. I’ve quit a thousand times before.’

‘Want one?’ She offered the box to him, but he shook his head.

‘Nah, I’ve quit.’

Seph laughed, leaning back in her chair. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yep. I heard something somewhere about it being a killer…’ He shook his head and shrugged playfully.

‘Well, right now it’s helping me. I realised yesterday that quitting in the middle of painting a new series was not a good idea.’

It might be a weak excuse, but she’d been so stressed out lately and quitting hadn’t helped. It was no wonder that she felt so disconnected from her work when her ritual-like routine had changed so drastically. Before quitting, she’d get out of bed, make a nice cup of filtered coffee and take time to wake up. She’d flick through a magazine, read the paper and potter around in her studio, and all with a cigarette in hand. What she’d done since quitting was wake up, head straight into the studio with a cup of acidic instant coffee and pick up her paintbrush right away. It had felt like the easiest way to get the mounting frustration out of her head and it had made sense. She had a deadline, therefore she needed to hurry up and get on with it. But the downside was that without easing herself into the start of a working day, the love had gone out of it. There was no feeling left, resulting in work she wasn’t happy with.

Was it really possible that her jumbled feelings over the last weeks had all been caused from nicotine withdrawal? She rolled the cigarette between her fingertips. It would be pathetic if it were true, but it was the excuse she needed in order to feel less like a bitch about the fight with Ben. After all, it wasn’t just her life that had been turned inside out lately. His had, too. So had her mum and dad’s, and probably Nico’s too. She had the feeling that her life and everything she cared about had been carved up into a jigsaw puzzle, except it had been put together wrong. All she wanted was for it to all fit properly again.

‘I reckon quitting is a bit like having a kid. There’s never a right time,’ Nico said.

‘Maybe I’ll try again after my exhibition. It’s only three weeks away.’

‘I read that your other ones were sell-outs.’

‘They did alright,’ she replied, a little shy as always when it came to talking about her success. ‘You can come if you want?’

‘Thanks, but…’ Nico laughed and shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’d be such a good idea. Your family’ll be there and…’ He laughed again and shrugged.

‘You’re my family, too,’ Seph replied, and his laughter stopped. ‘It’d be a good way to sort things out with Mum and put everything to rest. She can’t hold a grudge forever.’

Seph took another pull on her cigarette just as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. Her face was bathed with warmth and, just like the day she’d visited George’s grave, her anger and frustration started to subside. It was as if the sun had come out at that moment especially for her, as if it wanted to tell her that inviting Nico to the exhibition was exactly the right thing to do.

‘I don’t know, Seph. It might be a little early for that. Or late.’ He smiled weakly, but she swatted a hand in front of her face.

‘Look. She’s my mum, you’re my dad. If this is going to work, then everyone has to get on. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle.’ She took another drag of her cigarette and stopped him as he began to protest.

Why hadn’t she thought of this before? It was a genius idea – one that would put the jigsaw back together again. She smiled and tilted her face a little more towards the sun.