Page 101 of The Perfect Son
Oh, Mark, I’ve lost you both.
CHAPTER 64
The nurse gave me a sedative. It is Bubble Wrap over my thoughts, but I don’t want a cushion. I want oblivion.
“Can I have some morphine?” I mumble to the nurse bustling around my bed and prodding at my wound.
“Are you in pain?” she asks.
“Yes.” Everything hurts.
“I’ll ask Dr. Sadler when he’s back from his break.” The nurse in her smart green uniform and mousy brown hair scoops up my chart and scribbles a note before lifting her eyes and giving me a smile that is dripping with pity. I wonder what my notes say—WARNING: CRAZY WOMAN. SEES HER DEAD SON.
Except I didn’t just see him, a ghost floating by. I watchedScooby-Dooepisodes with him. I cooked him dinners. I leaned on the doorframe of the bathroom and listened to him in the bath. I cared for him. I loved him, and he loved me back.
I don’t know what to do now, Mark.
“We’ve put you on antipsychotics, Tess,” Sadler explained as I was wheeled back to my room. “The medication, along with our sessions, will take some time to work, but they will work. We will get you better.”
I don’t want to get better,I thought, closing my eyes andpretending to sleep, pretending not to hear my mother’s whispered fears. “Is it... is it schizophrenia?”
“No, Mrs. Garfield. Schizophrenia is a lifelong neurological disorder which is often characterized by delusions and hallucinations, but what Tess is suffering from—her hallucination of seeing Jamie, her delusions of being persecuted by an unknown man—have been triggered by Mark and Jamie’s deaths.
“Her conscious mind couldn’t cope with the loss of both her husband and her son so tragically, and so she began experiencing depression and the start of a psychotic breakdown. It’s as though her mind is betraying her, keeping reality away. With the right medication and intense therapy, she can get well again.”
I drift off somewhere after that, a no-man’s-land between waking and sleep. When I come back to myself I sense Shelley sitting beside me. Her hand is warm on mine and her sweet perfume hangs in the air.
“Hi,” I say before opening my eyes.
She stiffens and pulls her hand away.
Oh, Mark, I am a monster, it seems.
“Is it OK that I’m here?” she asks.
I nod and open my eyes. Shelley’s face is pale and there are makeup streaks smudged on her face as if she’s cried away her mascara.
“Dr. Sadler said you were asking for me.”
It takes me a moment to wade through the layers clogging my thoughts to realize Dr. Sadler is the man I thought was a police officer helping me to find Jamie.
“I don’t remember.”
She shifts position, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “I can go.”
“No, please stay. I do want to talk to you. Where am I?”
“You’re on a private ward attached to the hospital. It’s called Hartfield Ward. It’s a private facility that your mum is paying for.”
We sit in silence for a moment and I make a fuss of moving the mechanical bed up so I can face her better. I’m buying time, trying to find a way to start a conversation I don’t want to have.
“You made a chicken casserole together,” I blurt out. “You let Jamie cut the onion with a knife. He told me before we ate dinner. You beat him at FIFA on the PlayStation that afternoon.”
She pulls a face. “When?”
I think for a moment. “The second time you came to the house. I was so tired. You came over and looked after Jamie for me and cleaned some of the house.”
She nods, causing a spark of hope to pop at the Bubble Wrap in my thoughts, but it’s not a nod of agreement, it’s one of understanding. “I did come that day. I stayed in the house while you slept and did a bit of tidying. I made chicken casserole. We ate at the table with the candles, just the two of us. I told you about my swimming and Dylan.”
