Chapter 12 : Wednesday Night

Things that had been confusing suddenly made sense. I had an epiphany – another one. I’ve talked before about epiphanies. Did I mention how much they hurt? Epiphanies really hurt. This was my second one in a week. It felt like a huge fireworks show being set off inside my brain. It really, really hurt.

Dad said something about not being sure and needing to do tests but it was hard to hear with all the fireworks going whiz-bang-boom between my ears.

He was saying words, but they didn’t make much sense.

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad.

It was like there was an orchestra playing in the background. I could almost hear all the string instruments playing a long, long note forming some strange, unfinished chord that built this incredible tension.

“The thing that Bec has, is it the same?” She took a big breath.

I didn’t. I didn’t breathe at all. My brain was trying to process the meaning of the question. She’d been talking about Mum. Why was the question suddenly about me?

“Does Bec have Lambrecht’s Syndrome?”

Ah yes! That was the question – the ultimate question! That was the life-changing, life-defining question! That was the sixty-four million dollar question, right there!

Everything inside of me froze.

Even time froze. Everything I knew, everything I understood, my entire life story, every little thing I thought I knew about myself. It all froze. Then it shattered into a million pieces.

I looked at Dad.

At least my eyes looked at Dad. Behind my eyes there wasn’t any thought; just swirling confusion. Inside what was left of my brain, a tornado spun the glittering pieces of my broken self around and around in endless spirals.

He looked at me.

Maybe a spark travelled from his eyes to mine. Maybe there was some message hidden in the depths of his eyes. Maybe he somehow projected some psychic message straight into the nothingness inside my skull. However it happened, he looked at me and snap – the tornado was gone.

And then there was silence.

And then there was silence.

The shattered pieces of my brain collapsed and fell. And as they fell, they shifted and sorted themselves into a surprising new pattern.

The new pattern clicked into place like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was all there inside of my head, laid out all neat and orderly. I knew what Dad’s answer was.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

And I nodded too!

And then I wondered if I’d answered the same question Dad had!

Dad was saying something in the background, but there weren’t any words. There was only noise.

Liz was clutching my hand. She was looking deeply into my eyes. She was looking straight through my eyes, right into the middle of my head, trying to see all the mess that was in there. She obviously felt responsible. She was feeling guilty for making the mess. It wasn’t her fault; the mess was already there. All she did was shine a light into my head so that everyone could see it. It was such a bright and glaring light. I blinked my eyes; trying to adjust.

Liz was talking to me, asking a question, but there weren’t any words. There was only noise.

Her searchlight beamed in through my eyes, lighting up all the dark corners of my brain. It lit up ideas and thoughts and feelings and experiences and emotions that I hadn’t ever processed. They were all piled up in forgotten corners, gathering dust until Liz shone her light onto them. It was too much! I wasn’t ready to see those things yet. I wasn’t ready to deal with those things yet. I closed my eyes to shut out the light. It wasn’t enough! My flimsy eyelids couldn’t stop her light from pouring into my head. They just turned the light a pinky-red sort of color. I squeezed my eyes more tightly closed. I leant forward and wrapped my arms around Liz, putting my head over her shoulder so she couldn’t see into my eyes anymore.

Liz hugged me back.

Mum was saying something to me, but there weren’t any words. There was only noise.

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand. She looked earnestly at Dad.

“The thing that Bec has, is it the same?”

She hadn’t asked if I was sick. She knew I was sick.

I wondered how she knew.

I wondered if I knew.

Of course I knew.

I wondered how I knew.

I gasped in shock. How could he do that? How could he say that?

I stood up and started yelling at Dad. I was so upset. Why would he say such a thing?

Mum started shouting at me, defending Dad. I ignored her. She was the one who was crazy, not me!

Liz was still clinging to my hand. Liz? How dare she? Anger shivered through me.

I tore my hand out of her grasp and spun to face her.

She’d betrayed me. My best and only friend had said I was mad!

I screamed at her in anger. How could she say that about me? What a horrible, nasty little bitch!

Tears were streaming down her face but I didn’t care. Who wants a friend who says such things? Not me, that’s for sure. She could get lost for all I cared.

I spun on my heels and stormed out of the room.

I had to push past Tara and Dan. They were standing in the doorway. They were there to laugh at me. They were there to point and jeer at the crazy person.

I felt so betrayed. I felt so alone.

I raced to my room. My room with walls smeared with Mum’s lies.

I snapped off the light and they disappeared into the dark.

I wanted to slam the door, but my daddy had taken my door away.

With one single nod, my daddy had taken my life away.

“Does Bec have Lambrecht’s Syndrome?”

Lambrecht’s Syndrome?

What had Dad said about it? The doctors argued about it. Maybe it didn’t even exist. Maybe it was the extreme end of normal behaviour. Was that me?

Lambrecht’s Syndrome?

What had Dad said about it? It came in episodes. It made you obsessive. It made you lose sight of the big picture. Was that right? Did that happen to me?

Lambrecht’s Syndrome?

What had Dad said about it? Did I inherit it from Mum? Obviously I must have. Had he mentioned a genetic link?

The big picture – genetic link – there was something missing – big picture – think Bec – think hard! All the bits of my brain got recruited and put to work. There was an important question hiding somewhere in my brain. What was it? Think hard Bec!

Liz was talking with my parents, but there weren’t any words. There was only noise.

Genetic link – Mum – big picture. A little bit of my brain found the question hiding in a corner of my skull – it held it up and waved it for the rest of me to see. Of course! How stupid not to think of this before? Of course! And it was such an important question. I felt so stupid.

Dan was talking with my parents, but there weren’t any words. There was only noise.

My eyes flashed open. I was hugging Liz. My head was sitting over her shoulder. Directly in front of me was Dad – sitting in his chair – watching me. Mum was there too – sitting on the arm of his chair – watching me. My eyes stared at them.

“Dan doesn’t have it, does he?” They shook their heads. I already knew that. I only wanted confirmation.

“Tara doesn’t have it!” I said that with more confidence. They shook their heads. I already knew that too. I was being complete – setting things out logically. It was the only way I could manage. It was the only way I could find my way through all this chaos. Line my thoughts up in neat little rows and maybe I could follow them through to the end.

And now for the important question; the big question, the question I didn’t already know the answer to:

“Does Angie have it?”

My heart had stopped beating. Now it was swelling inside my chest, taking up all the available space, squashing my lungs down to nothing, threatening to burst out of my chest and explode – sending me spinning into some messy blood-spattered oblivion.

They glanced at each other. Was that a good sign? Was that a bad sign? Mum spoke to me, gently.

“We don’t know. It’s too early to tell.”

My heart collapsed in on itself with a weary sigh. I closed my eyes and laid my head on Liz’s shoulder. My heart gave a thump, then another, and then it started beating properly again.

It’s too early to tell!

I looked at Dad.

He looked at me.

Something was missing. I left something out. My brain started making checklists – sticking them up all over the inside of my skull. Ticking off things I knew! Checklists covered over other checklists making a crazy patchwork on the inside of my skull. Did I say crazy? I didn’t mean that. I’m not crazy.

Am I?

What had Dad said about Lambrecht’s? It came in episodes. It made you obsessive. It made it hard to think about the big picture.

The big picture – something missing – genetic link – family – I’d asked about the family – Mum had it – check – I had it – check – Dan didn’t – check – Tara didn’t –check – Angie too early to tell – check – all checked? – check!

No! Wait! A bit of my brain screamed at me – called me an idiot. It scribbled out that last check mark. Family! Mum’s family! There was more to Mum’s family than us!

My eyes popped open again. Mum and Dad were still there – still watching me. Dan was sitting on my other side – holding my other hand. Concern was written over their faces with a big, green, felt-tipped pen.

Someone should take that pen off Angie.

“Nana doesn’t have it!” Mum shook her head.

“What about Uncle Stan?”

Mum sighed. “Stan seems to have a really mild form of it. He had fewer problems than me as a teenager. I don’t think my father even noticed. If you didn’t know what to look for, no one would be able to tell. No one would ever know.”

“What about Papa? I don’t remember him well enough to tell.”

Mum gave a little shrug. “I’m not sure. Your nana isn’t sure. Remember they separated and I lived with my mother. I think he might have had it. If he did, he hid it from us.”

I looked at Mum with big eyes. Somehow, instinctively, I knew! “Mum, he had it! And he put you in an asylum when he found out you had it too.” Mum just looked back at me. “I’m so sorry, Mum!”

I felt a single tear run down my left cheek. I hadn’t cried for me, but now I was crying for Mum, for what her father had done to her.

“It was a long time ago, honey. That’s over now.” She leaned forward and kissed the tear off my cheek.

I felt myself rushing into my future. It was like I was sitting in the driver’s cabin of a train, watching it happen. My future loomed there in front of me. I spun the steering wheel of the train, trying to avoid it, but of course my life had no choice but to follow the tracks laid down for it. I smashed into my future with an enormous roar.

I pushed away from the arms holding me. I stood up, trembling with fear.

“I don’t want to go to an asylum.” I blurted out. Then I turned and fled the room.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

I stared in confusion at Dad. That can’t be right.

There was nothing wrong with me. I felt a surge of emotion go through me. Why would they talk about me like that? I felt so betrayed. I felt so alone.

I pulled my hand out of Liz’s and stood up.

Sometimes Liz spouted such nonsense.

I had painting to do. It was such a big painting and there was so much still to do.

I walked out of the room.

Dad and Mum and Tara and Dan and Angie and Liz were all watching me.

I think they were worried that I might freak out or something.

I wasn’t freaking out.

Was I?

Everything inside of me froze.

I looked at Dad.

He looked at me.

He never said a word. He just nodded. And then he stood and took Mum’s hand. Together they walked out of the room.

Dan and Tara, standing near the doorway didn’t say a word, they turned and followed Mum and Dad out of the room.

I could feel Liz carefully pull her hand out of mine. I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t want to watch her back away from me, and then turn and run. Her footsteps sounded loud in the silence as she fled.

Tears running silently down my face, I collapsed into a heap on the floor.

I felt so betrayed.

I felt so alone.

Liz licked her lips and squeezed my hand.

“Are you mad at me?”

I turned my head and looked at her in surprise. “What?”

“Are you mad at me?” She held out both hands to me.

I looked at her hands in confusion. I could’ve sworn I was already holding one of her hands, but there they both were, held out in front of me.

I looked down and saw a paintbrush in my hand. I wondered how it had got there. Liz was talking to Dad, she had some important question to ask, and here I was holding a paintbrush. It was so confusing.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

I turned my head back to the way I’d been facing. Dad had disappeared. There was a half finished painting in front of me. It was a painting of a girl in a fancy dress.