Fiction: Talking

                “I’m telling you, Alan, it just isn’t normal.”

                Colin looked up from his book as the sound of his aunt’s voice floated in from the kitchen.

                “the psychiatrist said it was perfectly normal, Ellen, especially given what she’s been through already.”

                “Be that as it may, you can only go so far before it becomes too much. You just refuse to see it because she’s your daughter.”

                Ah. They were talking about his sister, like always. And, as usual, it wasn’t a happy conversation.

                “I’m telling you, Alan, at some point something is going to snap, and then it’ll be too late.”

                “What exactly are you saying, Alan?”

                Colin got up from the couch, slammed his book on the coffee table, stomped out of the sitting room, and made his way tp the back door, making sure to slam and hit everything he could as he went.

                “Now do you see what you’ve done?” The arguing continued as Colin stepped outside and started to walk, the angry voices in the kitchen fading away with every step.

_-_-_-_-_           

                It wasn’t his sister’s fault. She hadn’t asked to be on the trains that day. If it was anyone’s fault, it was his father’s- and maybe his as well.

_-_-_-_-_

                “Your sister tried to kill herself.”

                Colin shot up, now wide awake, and stuck his hand out to feel for his glasses. “What?”

                “Your sister tried to kill herself.” His father’s voice was detached, as it usually became when speaking of any sort of difficult issue. “You need to come home.”

                “Alright.”

_-_-_-_-_

He had come home, as his father had asked.  He had made a point of telling his CO that he was needed by his family and therefore needed a posting close to home; his CO had gladly obliged, being a family man himself. Colin had moved back to his hometown, settled back into a life that included his family, and set about trying to help his sister.

                He had run into a roadblock, though, when he realized that he didn’t understand her.   

                Oh, he understood the clinical side of what was wrong, to be sure- already depressed to begin with, the trauma of being caught in a London deep level subway tunnel at the same time a bomb happened to go off threw a switch that had sent his sister spiralling downward. He blamed himself for not seeing it- then again, their mother HAD died in that same incident, so he had his own problems to deal with. But he still thought that he should have done something, like make sure she was okay before he went overseas.

_-_-_-_-_

                Colin’s train of though was interrupted when he suddenly found himself face-down in the dirt, having forgotten that there were tree roots sticking out of the ground everywhere in this area of the estate. Getting up and brushing himself off, he took of his glasses and glanced around him- without realizing it, he had already walked at least half a mile. This was where the old, walled gardens started, where the paths were made of uneven cobblestone and the statues were overgrown with brambles and…

Red paint?

_-_-_-_-_

                “Have you tried talking to her?”

Colin shifted in his chair, uncomfortable in the small Harley Street psychiatrist’s office. “She doesn’t like to talk to anyone.”

                “But have you tried?” the doctor pressed. Colin shifted again and looked straight at the man. “No. I can’t. She won’t listen.”

                “So you have tried.”

                Colin rolled his eyes. “Fine, yes, if that’s how you want to put it.”

                “You’re uncomfortable.”

Alan drew himself up to his full sitting height and glared at the man. “Should I be comfortable, or happy, or relaxed? Would you be?”

_-_-_-_-_

That appointment hadn’t gone well, from an emotional point of view. Alan had spent a large portion of it roaring at the poor little man, who had just sat there with his hands folded in his lap, jumping in with a question every time Colin had paused for breath.

Mind you, just because it hadn’t gone well emotionally didn’t mean that they hadn’t made any headway.

_-_-_-_-_

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Colin looked up; absorbed in following the paint drops, he had accidentally wandered into one of the gardens- and right into his now angry looking sister.

“What are you doing here?” His sister repeated carefully. “I told everyone to leave me alone when I’m out here.”

This was more than his sister had said in awhile; it took him a moment to recover from the mild shock. “Dad and Ellen are arguing again.”

His sister rolled her eyes. “Idiots.” She looked him up and down. “And you?”

Colin held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to listen to it, alright? None of this is your fault.” He started backing up. “I’ll be going now.” He turned to go.

“You don’t think so?”

It wasn’t hard to guess what she was talking about. He turned back around. “No, I don’t.”

His sister smiled, weakly, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He took the risk of looking around. “This is Mum’s garden.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been working on it.”

“It makes me feel better. It helps me think. Plants don’t let you down.”

There it was. “Can I help?”