Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📗

finish telling you,’ she says. ‘The strange thing is, the doctor prescribed Marc some anti-depressants.’ She claps her hands together and draws them to her lips as if she is about to pray. ‘Art dropped him at the chemist to pick them up after the appointment. I found them at the back of his bathroom cabinet this morning. The seal is still intact, so wherever he’s gone, he wasn’t depressed enough to take them with him.’

Seven

‘You were depressed and suicidal once. What did it feel like?’ I ask Jim as we crawl back home. I’m edgy. We are stuck in a traffic jam. Mel needs the car today as Joe and Isabella have playdates after school, so I’ll have to take the Tube into work. Arthur is going to be tapping his watch again.

‘Where’s this come from?’

‘Just wondering about Marc’s state of mind.’

‘It’s not a good place to be.’

‘But what did it actually feel like? You’ve never really told me properly.’

‘Before or after the accident?’

‘Both.’

‘They were different, I suppose. Different but interlinked in my case. Before, I was more suicidal. A reaction to the situation. I mean, it was pretty dire, wasn’t it?’

I scoff. ‘You can say that again.’ The car in front of us edges forward before its brake lights redden. ‘Damn traffic,’ I say, straining to see what’s holding things up. ‘It’s chocka out there.’

‘I can still see myself sitting in that hotel room in New York, holding that bottle of pills. It was like I couldn’t see clearly. I couldn’t see a way out. With or without you.’

He turns his head, gazing out of the window. ‘I emptied the whole bottle into my hand so many times. They were like little blue smarties.’ He snorts. ‘I could so easily have taken them.’

I place my hand on his knee and squeeze it. ‘What stopped you?’

He turns to me. ‘You. I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing you again. And what it would do to you. And Joe, of course. The thought of police officers knocking on our door to tell you I’d been found dead on a hotel room floor, that’s what stopped me. I couldn’t do it to you.’ He put his hand on top of mine and squeezed it tightly. ‘After the accident, when they told me I’d never walk again, I’d say that was more depression. I never thought about ending it all, though. I didn’t know what to do, how the future would turn out. How I was going to look after you and the kids. I knew I’d never be capable of going back to my old job.’ He paused. ‘And I was scared you would leave me.’

‘Jim!’

‘I know, I know. That’s what I mean. That’s what depression does to you. You can’t think clearly.’ He taps his temple. ‘You’re confused all the time. Helpless, that’s the word, you feel powerless, and you can’t see anything positive. It’s painful – mentally, as well as physically, harrowing.’ He slaps his open hand against his chest. ‘It hurt here. Like life had landed an anchor on my chest, and I couldn’t find a way to break free. They were dark, dark times. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. You lose sight of what it feels like to be happy.’

I’m shocked. All the love I feel for him rushes to my heart, making it skip a beat. How distraught Sasha must have been to learn of Marc’s depression. My voice breaks. ‘You’ve never spoken like that before.’

‘I guess I couldn’t. It’s been a long time now, though.’

‘Do you ever feel like that now?’

He smiles and squeezes my hand again. ‘Never.’

‘You would tell me if you did, wouldn’t you?’

‘Don’t worry. I may have legs that don’t always work, but I have everything else I need in my life.’

‘But you would tell me, wouldn’t you?’

He nods.

I reach behind the driver’s seat and fish in my bag for my phone. ‘Do you think Marc was depressed?’

‘What makes you ask?’

I relay what Sasha has told me while checking for traffic updates.

‘If he was, he never let on to me. He was his normal self when I saw him last week. Perhaps he was a little down about not finding work, but he never came across as depressed.’

‘That’s what I can’t understand.’ I sigh heavily.

‘It’s hard to believe he was. Then again, people learn to disguise these things well. You know what? Looking back, however bad things were for me, I would never have walked out as Marc has. He must be in a bad place. Who knows what he’s capable of?’

My fingers tap the steering wheel. ‘I wish this traffic would get moving.’

‘Chill out. There’s nothing you can do about it.’

‘I need to get to work.’

‘Let’s take the kids to the beach this weekend.’

I turn to him in surprise. ‘Where did that come from?’

He shrugs. ‘It’s your weekend off, and the weather’s going to be sunny. We haven’t been to the beach since last summer. The kids’ll love it. We need to have some fun.’

‘For sure, I’m up for that.’

‘Brighton?’

‘Let’s do it. Don’t forget we have Harry’s party on Saturday, so it’ll have to be Sunday.’

‘Gill’s coming on Sunday for the week, remember? Mel is off on holiday.’

‘How could I forget?’ Gill has been like a mother to me. I’ve known her since I was sixteen when she fostered the unruly teenager I was back then. ‘Let me check with Gill that she’s happy to go to the beach.’

When we finally arrive home, I rush to get Jim’s wheelchair out of the car. I might make it into work on time if I hurry. Mel comes out of the house, still in the PVC apron covered with dogs that the kids insisted on getting her for Christmas last year. I hand her the keys. ‘Want a lift to the Tube?’ she asks. I could kiss her.

I switch on the radio. A broadcast about depression and suicide catches my attention. Middle-aged men have the highest rate of suicide in