Page 36 of Nights Without Night
“As I said, inventive,” he smiles. I shrug, smiling back. “Was the incident at the bar the first time you saw him lose his temper since he got back?”
“He only lost it once before. I was driving and someone cut me off and he almost jumped out of the car. He would have if the door hadn’t been locked.”
“Has he always shown that kind of temper?”
“No. Not at all. He’s always been intense and very…like, righteous? But not in an asshole way. Just, he’s always been very into what’s right and what’s wrong and he’s just very black-and-white about that stuff. And I’ve seen him do things because of that but never so reactive. And it’s not like he started shouting at everybody when he got back, it was only two incidents, but…”
“But those incidents were out of the norm and risky enough to be of concern.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Okay. Let me recap. Your main worries centre around the fact that, one, he seems to be isolating himself completely, even from you. And, two, he shows reactive behaviours in response to anger, especially when concerning a perceived wrong done to you,” he says. I nod along until he gets to the last bit. Yes, both those incidents had involved not only a perceived wrong, but a perceived wrong done tome.
From the garden of memory, incidents from childhood sprout up. Isadoro breaking up with a girl after she was nasty to me. Him having a row with his grandfather for the first time after Frank made a comment about me being a pansy, something which I’d never seen happen before.I was the one that told Jamie Lansonto back off.
“Yeah,” I say, wondering how I hadn’t made the connection before.
“How is his self-care? You mentioned you don’t think he’s eating much. Does he sleep?”
“No, but he’s barely slept since he got here.”
“Does he wash regularly?”
“I don’t think so. His room smells.”
“Okay. Any other risky behaviour? Consumption of alcohol or drugs?”
“No. Not that I know of.”
“Self-harm in the form of physically hurting himself?”
“Jesus. I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t know, I don’t know what he does in his room.”
“I know these questions can be alarming, but I’m trying to evaluate risk. If he doesn’t have a history of it and you have seen no signs, we can mark it as a no for now. Now, this is another question that might sound concerning, but all you can go off is the information you have. Has he ever expressed a desire to end his life?”
“No. No, no, he—he’s never said anything about…anything like that.”
“Okay, it’s just good to cover all our bases,” he says, but I’m shaken. That’s not something I even want to think about, even if at times it takes over my head.
“I just…I don’t know. I’ve read the statistics, I’ve-”
“I understand your concern, but your friend is not a statistic, Iván. Yes, statistics can give us information about a group of people, but they are less useful when dealing with individuals. It’s best to look at the information we have in front of us.
“No history of self-harm or behavioural indicators of suicidality. He has a support system which he lives with, and you have one too. Yes, it’s apparent your friend needs help, but I don’t think he poses a significant risk to himself or anybody he is currently in contact with. Again, that’s not to say he doesn’t need help, but for now, we can focus away from worrying about your friend going to any extremes.”
“Okay. I just…I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say, how to help him. I don’t know when I’m pushing too hard or not enough. Do I barge into his room? Do I knock? How many times do I knock? Should I-”
“Okay, let’s take a little breath,” Mansur says. I breathe shakily. My heart is pounding.
I can’t lose Isadoro. Not now, when he’s finally back home. Ican’t.
“I understand your concern, and it’s good your friend has someone who cares so much, but…okay. Imagine your friend was in a car crash and broke his legs. What could you do to help him?” he asks. I frown.
“Uh…Take him to the hospital?”
“Sure. Anything else? After he leaves the hospital?”
“Um, make him soup? Help him around?”
