Epilogue

 

Eight and a half months later

 

Seph stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. A cacophony of tinkling laughter and voices whooshed into the small bathroom as Laurel came in, before being sucked away again when the door closed.

‘There you are.’ Laurel smiled, looking at Seph through the mirror.

It wasn’t the smile she used to have. It didn’t light up her hazel pupils or create fine lines in the corners of her eyes. It was the smile that had taken the place of the real one since the night Seph had stepped out into oncoming traffic. Seph flicked her eyes downwards and focused on the sink as a rush of guilt washed over her. She wished her mum’s real, full smile would come back.

Laurel stood right behind her and scooped Seph’s hair back from her shoulders. Seph closed her eyes for a few seconds. In the initial days and weeks after that awful night, it had been hard to believe it had really happened to her. The memories were so hazy and jumbled that it felt as if it had happened to someone else entirely. But it was the small things that brought it all back with full force.

In one of her group therapy sessions, Seph had chosen to sit on the floor instead of a chair. It had instantly reminded her of sitting on the hard, wooden floor of her studio and how its firm reassurance had kept her tethered to a sense of reality. Simply catching a whiff of oil paint was enough to fill her head with memories from that frenzied period where she’d produced almost thirty paintings in the space of only a few weeks. And now, as her mum stood behind her, smoothing down her hair just like she had that night, Seph remembered how she’d cried.

She’d cried for herself, for being terrified of forming the idea to kill herself and almost doing it, and the strange euphoria that had followed at still being alive. She’d cried for Ben and for breaking his heart. She’d cried for her mum and Tony and Nico, for Joe, for everything she’d ever done and everyone she’d ever met and, at the same time, she’d had no idea why she was crying. It was something her body had done, without any input from her. It had been an utterly terrifying, unbearable and seemingly never-ending torture to teeter so close to the edge of insanity. The memory of it was enough to make Seph’s insides tremble, but having her mum by her side helped to keep her calm.

She’d always described her relationship with her mum as close, at least until the email from Nico came along. But the closeness they shared now eclipsed what they’d had before. The last few months had been so raw. So brutal. Now, they could communicate with just a single look, or a slight tilt of the head. Seph felt under no pressure or up against unrealistic expectations to suddenly get better again. She knew she was the topic of conversation whenever her parents would talk quietly behind closed doors but, still, she appreciated the way they were handling it. She’d had a terrifying stint in hospital and many, many hours of ongoing therapy. This was her doctor’s third attempt at finding the right dosage of medication and there was still a long road ahead. She wasn’t better yet, not fully. But she was okay, and she had nothing but appreciation for her parents and their seemingly unwavering support.

‘I’m so proud of you, you know,’ Laurel said. ‘I really am.’

Seph turned to give her a hug, holding her close. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘Now come on, before you make my mascara run.’ Laurel sniffed and pulled away before dabbing at her eyes. ‘Janice is asking after you.’

Seph checked herself in the mirror. Maybe she should have worn a dress instead of her standard uniform of ripped jeans and a plain white shirt. Her hands grew clammy and her stomach tightened. A dress would have looked more professional, more presentable. Maybe she should have made more of an effort.

No.

Seph drew in a deep breath before puffing it out in one go. Now wasn’t the time to let anxiety get the better of her. Besides, who cared what she wore? She might not look dressy and impressive, but her uniform made her feel comfortable. It was her protective shield against the vulnerability she still struggled with. Seph gave herself one last look in the mirror before following her mum back out into the main room where Janice immediately came over.

Janice grinned, squeezing her arm. ‘Almost every piece has sold.’

‘The whole room is covered in red dots. It’s like the building got a case of chickenpox.’ Laurel smiled.

Seph tracked her eyes across the walls. It seemed laughable now that just seconds ago, she almost let her mind get the better of her by worrying about her clothes. It didn’t matter what she wore. Her paintings were selling, and each red dot was like a mark of triumph, not to mention a much-needed boost, both for her self-confidence and bank account. She had a huge credit card bill to clear.

It was unsettling to look at the paintings lining the gallery walls and know that it was her who’d made them. They were so dark, surreal and monotone in comparison to her usually vibrant and playful style. Looking at them now with the benefit of hindsight, the nightmarish floating figures and murky hues were a clear indicator of the mental state she’d been in at the time. Maybe that was why she’d initially hated them so much. Maybe she’d known on a subconscious level that she really wasn’t well. True, she didn’t hate them now, but she’d still be happy when they were all sold and gone.

‘Good turnout, isn’t it?’ Janice asked as Tony came over to join them. ‘If anything I think the delay created more of a buzz about it all. It all worked out in the end.’

Janice held up her champagne flute and Seph raised her glass in a toast before taking a sip of her grape juice. It had nothing over a glass of chilled Riesling or a good Malbec, but it was the closest she was allowed to get to wine these days. And, at least she wouldn’t end up drinking herself silly like she had at her last exhibition to cope with what she’d thought were nerves.

It was easy to look back and see her old patterns of behaviour now. What she’d put down to being periods of excessive binge drinking, experimenting with drugs and having carefree, casual and equally experimental sex, had actually been periods of mania. And she knew now that her depression after George died was just that - depression. She’d never returned to those levels of highs and lows but she’d experienced hypomania since, especially in the lead up to her last two exhibitions. Her therapist said it was important to figure out and identify her triggers. Stress, it seemed, was a major one of them. Hindsight was a wonderful thing and with it, her diagnosis of bipolar disorder was less of a shock.

‘Now there’s another one ripe for the picking.’ Janice said, looking over at a couple standing in front of an unsold piece. She squeezed Seph’s arm before floating over to sweet talk them into parting ways with their hard earned cash.

The music in the gallery was only barely audible and just the right side of ambient. Outside, the early summer evening looked balmy and magical. Later, when the buzz of the exhibition died down, she’d take a walk. It was nice to be in a mental place where taking in the sights and sounds of her city was a pleasure and not a terror. Seph stood next to her parents, half listening as they talked about taking a trip to the Lake District when Kim flew in next week. She looked down into her glass. It was a lovely evening, but it wasn’t quite perfect. How could it be, without him here to share it all?

Seph took a sip of her juice. She had to let it go. To accept it. It was a something she tried and failed to do almost daily, but it wasn’t getting any easier. Hot tears pricked at her eyes and she had to blink furiously to hold them back.

‘I’m just popping outside for a bit,’ she said, interrupting Tony.

‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine. Just need some air.’

She put a hand on his arm and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek. To think she’d ever questioned him being her dad. She didn’t want her parents to worry, but if she didn’t get outside right that minute, there was a very real chance she’d break down into tears in the middle of them all. Seph gave her parents a watery smile before heading out into the sunshine.

As soon as she stepped outside, she sucked in a breath of air, pulling it right down into the bottom of her lungs. The sun’s rays bathed her face as she tilted her head back, counting to ten to let the tears subside. As the ball clogging up her throat dissipated, Seph tried to let the feeling of longing go. There was no point in clinging onto it. Wanting and getting were, after all, two very different things. Focus on the here and now. That’s what George always used to say, right until the very end.

She dropped her head back down and opened her eyes, blinking against the light. Janice’s gallery was located in the perfect place to help keep her focus. Brick Lane was loud and unapologetically brash. It didn’t give a damn about anybody’s feelings, least of all hers.

‘Looks like a great party.’

Seph turned immediately at the sound of Ben’s voice. Was it really him? She almost reached a hand out to see if he were real and not an apparition. His skin glowed with a tan under his crisp, white shirt and the afro she’d loved so much had been sheared away to a minimal buzz cut.

‘You’ve cut your hair.’ She smiled at him, squinting against the sunlight.

He smiled back with a hint of sheepishness, rubbing a hand across his beautifully curved skull. ‘Yeah. It was time for something new. Like it?’

Seph nodded, wishing she could trail her fingers across this previously unexposed piece of him. She stuffed her hands into her pockets instead.

‘You came,’ she said.

‘Of course I did.’

How great would it be if they were still together? If she’d have known what he’d been doing every day for the last few months instead of having to guess? If they’d have come to her exhibition together from the warehouse they’d had to give up, instead of her having to come from her parents’ place without him and him having to come from somewhere else? It was an impossible wish list, and even more impossible was the wish that Ben could see her as someone other than the girl who’d broken his heart. Facing up to what she’d done had been one of the hardest parts of her recovery so far. She’d been riding the coat-tails of mania when she’d told Ben she’d slept with someone else, not really able to fully comprehend what she’d done. But the reality of it had hit hard in the depression that had followed.

‘How’ve you been?’ he asked.

‘Good.’ Seph nodded with more enthusiasm than she really felt. ‘Better. I’m getting there.’

‘Yeah, you look it. You look really well, in fact.’

She drank in his compliment. She’d put on a stone with her medication, but it was a side effect she was happy for. With all the sleepless nights, frenzied painting and haphazard eating, she’d lost weight and never wanted to get so skinny again.

‘And you?’ she asked. ‘Everything good?

‘Busy.’ He smiled that beautiful lopsided smile of his. ‘Clara’s busting my balls daily but the work’s coming in so…’

Seph nodded. ‘I heard about your new venture. I’m glad it’s going well. I’m happy for you.’

‘Thanks. That means a lot.’

It was like music to Seph’s ears. She knew there was no hope of the two of them ever getting back together - she’d hurt him too much for that – but it was nice to know that she still meant something. They smiled at each other and Seph found herself blushing, uncomfortably shy, as if they’d only just met.

Ben tore his eyes away from hers and looked through the spotless windows. ‘So how is it having everyone under one roof?’

‘They’re not. Nico’s not here, he’s in Greece. It had all been arranged beforehand, so…’ She shrugged. ‘But we’re getting on really well and Mum’s getting used to him being around. He’s been a big help.’

It was a huge understatement. Nico had been a source of guidance, reaching a place where nobody else could. He’d helped her to feel less alone, less crazy. Having someone close who’d stood in her shoes before and could really relate had proven to be a lifesaver. Literally.

She looked down at the ground. ‘I really appreciate you coming. You didn’t have to.’

‘Hey, come on. I couldn’t miss this, it’s a big night.’

‘I just…after everything that happened and what I did.’ She shook her head and looked up at him, trying to smile her way through the onslaught of tears she thought she’d banished. ‘I’m so sorry. I really hope you can forgive me, one day.’

‘I already have.’

‘Really?’ Seph searched his face with her eyes, trying to detect a hint of something, something to tell her that he wasn’t just being polite, but he looked down at the ground and studied his shoes.

‘I’ve read just about everything I could find about bipolar. Spoke to a lot of people. It took a while to accept that the things you did are the things that happen sometimes, especially when it’s undiagnosed. Doesn’t make it any better necessarily but, you know…the past is the past.’

‘I know,’ she replied. ‘But I wish I could change it. I really miss you.’

‘Yeah.’ He looked back up at her. ‘I guess the meds will help keep you in check. And I reckon this multiplies my brownie points by about a billion.’

Seph nodded and then stopped as his words sunk in.

‘Brownie points?’ She frowned, remembering what he’d said when he’d come back from Tangiers. He’d said that he’d start spending his brownie points as soon as her exhibition happened. ‘You mean…?’ She shook her head a little, not daring to presume anything. ‘What do you mean?’

He looked back into the gallery before turning back to her. ‘I know this has been all kinds of messed up, but I’ve missed you too. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy but…you know. We can see how it goes. If it goes. Maybe get something to eat one night next week, or something.’

‘Seriously? You mean like a date?’ Seph asked, and the nod he gave her in return was like waking up on Christmas Day to find out it was also your birthday and you’d got everything you’d dared to wish for.

‘I thought that tonight we could start off with a drink. Drop in at this exhibition.’ He flashed that lopsided grin of his again. ‘I heard the artist’s pretty good.’

They stood, staring at each other with stupid grins. What was that she’d said about wanting and getting being two different things? She took it all back, greedily retracting them from the universe before anything could be made of them.

She knew it might not be easy. Who knew if it would really work, or even if it could after such a huge rupture in trust? But at least he was willing to try. And if the way she felt now - more stable in her body and mind - was anything to go by, then she had a feeling it would all work out, somehow.

‘Ready?’ Ben asked, nodding towards the open door of the gallery.

Seph clasped a hand around her necklace, tilted her face to the sun for a second and remembered the picture that had hung on the wall of George’s living room. She recalled that image of the stag in the woods, calm and majestic, with a new set of antlers to replace the old, before looking at Ben and nodding back with a grin.

She was ready.

 

THE END