Page 110 of Best Served Cold

I hoped to fuck I didn’t make things worse.

Her expression shifted to one of relief. “Mental health isn’t something people believe in where we grew up. It’s all tied back to the church and used as a way to shame people into behaving. He never got the help he should have and instead was told it was his fault and he wouldn’t be like this if he would just conform.

“We both know that’s bullshit, but that kind of trauma sticks with you. And with his medication allergies, his doctor never pushed him to try meds when he did finally talk to someone about it and instead was like ‘try yoga or deep breathing and make sure you get your ten minutes of sun a day’ like that was going to help him.”

“The stigma around mental health is stupid.” Was that the right thing to say? This was why I didn’t talk to people.

“It is.” She gave me a critical look. “Did something happen at work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something triggered this. There’s always a reason he goes into one of these spirals.”

“When did it start?”

“A week ago, a little bit more. He’s been struggling for a while, but it was last Thursday when he got really bad.”

The night after we’d blown each other at the club.

Was I the trigger? He’d said us messing around wasn’t the reason, but it had to be. What else could have happened at that time that would have affected him on such a visceral level?

“And nothing happened at work?”

“Nothing I saw. He’s been different. We’ve all noticed he’s not himself. But work’s been the same. We like having him on the crew.” We like having him? I wanted to facepalm myself.

“Really?” Her eyes brightened and a smile broke out on her face. God she looked young. Noah had said she was twenty, but she seemed barely old enough to drive. “I’m so glad. I was scared people here would be like they are back home and he’d get bullied again.”

My brain was having trouble picturing Noah as a victim of bullying just because of how happy and friendly he was when he wasn’t in a spiral.

Noah didn’t deserve any of this bullshit. I wanted to punch every single asshole who’d ever made him feel bad about himself or picked on him because they couldn’t see how awesome he was.

“He’s a great guy,” I said, my voice rough for no reason again. “A good friend.”

She smiled. “I’m glad he has a friend like you. Someone who cares and will actually take care of him when he needs it.”

“Of course. He’s…he’s one of us.”

She smiled brighter.

“Do you need help with anything before I go?”

“No, thank you.” She motioned for me to follow her to the front door.

A baseball bat next to the front closet caught my attention.

“Do you have that for self-defense?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Can I give you a few tips? I’m sure you’ve got a handle on things, but—”

“Yeah, for sure. Any tips would be great. We grew up in suburbia and people don’t bother locking their doors most nights. This place has been an adjustment.”

“Put a sock on the end of the bat.”

She tilted her head quizzically.

“If you do end up using it and they get a hand on it, they’ll grab the sock and you can pull the bat free. That’ll give you another shot while they’re distracted.”

---