Chapter Two
Gia
Girls’ night was a success. Enough pizza and popcorn were consumed last night to ease the hangover that was barely there this morning when I woke up. Well, not this morning really, it was almost noon. I'm a late sleeper. Every day.
I'm a freelance writer for a few popular entertainment blogs. So, I work on my own time and that in turn allows me to sleep in. In my defense, I do some of my best writing late into the night and early morning, so I like to think of it as working third shift.
I won’t complain though, I absolutely love my job. I adore everything to do with the silver and big screen. I have about 20 or so shows I watch on a regular basis and write up reviews on them for the sites I freelance for. It's been a long road, but I'm finally getting paid to write those reviews. Living in Chicago, I've even had a few opportunities to interview actors from lower-budget movies.
My end goal is to work for Weekly Entertainment on their TV or movie team or TVEdge.com. With my degree in journalism and mass communications, plus several years of experience as a freelancer, it feels like I’m finally getting somewhere in my career path. I've been on a trial run with TVedge.com. There are a few shows I recap and review weekly, as well as a few entertainment fluff pieces. I've grown a following on Twitter and engagement on my posts is starting to pick up. This is all great news, because after this trial run, I'll have a shot at a full-time gig with them. It doesn't matter which team I join, if it's TV, I'll get early access to shows and pilots. If I join the movie side, I get red carpet access. That has me giddy every time I think about it. I'm not normally a giddy person, but every once in a while, I can't help it. The only downfall to getting the full-time job—and it’s a biggie—would be that I'd have to move to sunny California. That's a long way from the Windy City. Too far away from my besties.
My parents live about three hours away in Indiana; I only see them a few times a year. It would be the move away from Morgan and Ruby that would be more painful.
Almost three years ago, Morgan and I moved to Chicago after we graduated from college. We wanted a fresh start. With my freelance work and her brand-spanking-new marketing degree, we thought Chicago would be the ideal place to get our start on adulting. I think we would both agree that it was a good decision.
I'm watching the new Harry Styles music video, when a new email pops up from my mom. Oh, God. This can't be good. I cringe as I hover my mouse over the email, contemplating whether or not to open it.
My mom and I usually communicate via text, sometimes even Facebook messenger. I know, it really is a sign of the times. She only emails when she has something important to tell me. She calls when there is something serious going on. It's her M.O. I'm not even sure if she is aware of what she does. My anxiety levels skyrocket when I see her name on the caller ID. And right now, as I click open the email, I brace myself for what I'm about to read.
Gia,
I wanted to update you on a few things going on here at home. Todd is having a bad week. Well, I should say, more like a bad month. As you know, he has been doing great on his medication and he's been seeing his psychiatrist only once a week now. But it seems that your brother decided a few weeks ago that he didn't want to take his medication anymore, so he stopped. Again.
He missed a couple of appointments, so Dr. Rosenthal called your father to let him know he could not get a hold of Todd. Long story short, we found him on a bender in his apartment and all trace of his medicine was gone. He's telling us that he sold them for $200 a pill. I just don't understand where he finds people to buy his bipolar medicine. I didn't know that was a thing. Anyway, we drove him to his appointment with Rosenthal and I guess Todd showed some red flags, so he has moved back in with us for the foreseeable future. If things don't start to look better for him, Rosenthal wants to admit him back into Neuro, the psychiatric hospital.
I know you don't like these kinds of emails from me, Gia. But he is your brother and you need to know what is going on. I've taken some time off from my job to make sure he gets to his work and home. I also just need to keep a closer eye on him while he goes back on his medicine. I would like it if you would make a trip home and visit with him. In the meantime, please just call him. He's your brother.
OK, well, I'll talk to you soon. Should I make up your old room for next weekend?
Mom
Well. Shit. That just ruined my whole freaking day. Why did I read the email? Why didn't I just watch some Harry Styles music videos for a while longer? Why? Because even though I hate getting these emails—even though it's been a while—I do want to know what's going on with my twin.
Todd and I have a very strained relationship. We always have. Growing up, it took several years for me to realize that this was just how our relationship was going to be. When we were in elementary school, there were two other sets of twins in our year. The teachers were baffled. It was kind of cool at first. The six of us naturally migrated into the same group. But quickly, I realized that Todd and I didn't have that "twin bond" that the others did. The bond I so desperately tried to have with him.
He never had my back, but always expected me to have his. He didn't want to be around me, ever. And his moods were always up and down. Most of the time, I felt as if we were on a never-ending roller coaster. By the time we were in fifth grade, I just wanted off the ride. I couldn't take it anymore. My twin didn't want to be my twin.
My parents had the hardest time with the shifts in his behavior. He was either depressed, angry, super happy, or just plain mean. The pediatrician diagnosed him as having ADD and placed him on medication. Which only made it worse. His first suicide attempt came the night before the Young Authors award ceremony where I won first place for my sixth-grade novel. It was a state-wide event, so it was a real honor. But I accepted the award with no family in the audience because my mom had found my brother in the bathroom on her way to the ceremony with an empty bottle of Tylenol lying next to him.
Thankfully, he had only taken about five pills, so it wouldn't have killed him. He was admitted to the psychiatric ward in the local children's hospital. Life changed after that night.
I know my parents didn't mean to cast me aside, but it just happened. They had a son who had something terribly wrong mentally, so they threw themselves into getting him the best help they could. As they should. During this first stint in the hospital, he was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder. It took a few years for the team of doctors and my parents to find a treatment that worked.
My relationship with Todd, never got better. Only more strained. It was hard for me to accept the back seat to life. Even when he wasn't at his worst, he was hard to deal with. He only cared about himself. Eventually, I lost track of all the times he was admitted to the hospital, all the times he stopped taking his meds. His manic episodes clouded my home life. At times it really felt like my brother hated me. And I hated being at home. I was treading water and it was hard to see any outcome that didn't have me drowning along with him. That is, until I met Simon Palmer.