This is going to be my last week that I get to relax by myself. The first meetings and hours at work will start next week and then it will be full-time from the following one.
Unsurprisingly, I’m pretty worn out for the first couple of days of this week, I’m probably suffering from the physical and emotional after-effects of the first, unbelievable treatment. Everything else that happened, even the really good parts, were also emotionally draining and I feel a little empty.
Monday night brings a second, even more soothing and uplifting dream that is vivid when I wake. I’ve had another treatment and this seems to drain me even more, almost the opposite of my first one.
Mum is the first to recognise my lethargy on Tuesday morning, obvious when I struggle to get out of bed. “Another treatment Nick?”
“Yes, I think so. Very different from the first. I might go back to bed.”
“Sure. Don’t stay there all day though.”
“No, I promise.”
“Oh, tell Peter that Thursday works best. Sam’s going to see a show in Peel with Stacey.”
“Thanks. I’ll message him about it later.”
“Right. I have to go to the office. I’ll see you later. Be up when I get home!”
“I will, I will. Bye Mum.”
I actually do manage to be up when she gets back, but it felt like a real struggle. Mum cooks my favourite casserole for dinner and I head back to bed as soon as it seems polite to do so.
I feel a lot better after another good night’s sleep and I’m fresh enough to be sitting watching the little birds at the feeder long before my call is due. They are suddenly scattered by a sparrowhawk, small so presumably the male, but all manage to avoid his raking talons. He vanishes as quickly as he appeared, into the hedge of bushes and away.
<Nick, voice call from Doctor Taylor.>
<Accept the call please, Nexima.>
“Good morning, Nick. How are you feeling this week?”
“Pretty exhausted Paul. You never told me the treatments could be so powerful or so draining.”
“Well, honestly, every treatment is different and so is every reaction. Why don’t you tell me about how you feel you have been affected.”
“Yes, sure. The first treatment left me feeling high – not that I know what that feels like – hyped-up, buzzing and more alive than I’ve ever felt. All my anxiety and fear just dropped away and I suddenly felt incredibly confident.”
“Was it a good feeling?”
“Yes, but I did almost feel like I wasn’t in control, almost as if all my inhibitions had been switched off.”
“Okay, that’s a bit of a severe reaction, but you seem to have coped.”
“Well, yes, but my boyfriend got the full benefit of it all though.”
“Oh, how so?”
“I felt so confident and so sure of my feelings that we were able to get more intimate with each other. I was able to express my feelings and told him that I love him.”
“Do you think that anxiety had been holding you back from this, or more your aromatic nature?”
“I think maybe both. It has taken me a long time to even start to have feelings for him, but I’m sure I was afraid of rejection as well.”
“Yes, I can see how you might think like that and I tend to agree. The AI notes say that you’ve had a second treatment as well. Tell me about that.”
“It was totally different. When I woke up, I remembered my dream as before, but I felt totally drained. I had no energy at all and ended up spending most of yesterday in bed.”
“Actually, Nick, that’s a very normal reaction. Both reactions are pretty commonplace. Quite often, the first treatment almost totally fixes your anxieties. This gives you a massive boost the next day and maybe for a couple of days longer. After that, the rest of the treatments are more targeted at ensuring that the initial treatment sticks and becomes deeply and permanently embedded.”
“Will the effects get less severe? I have to start work at school next week, part time initially, but full-time the week after that.”
“What days do you have to be at work next week?”
“Monday and Friday.”
“Okay, the AI is aware of that now and may alter the regimen to fit your schedule better. But, to answer your question, yes, the effects become much less severe. You may feel a little tired, but hopefully not as much as the first time. I know you won’t want to hear this, but if you need to take time off because of the therapy, the school will understand.”
“Yes, I know, I just don’t want to miss my first day with tiredness or anything.”
“Don’t worry Nick. We’ll try and make sure that doesn’t happen. Do you have any further questions for me this week?”
“No Paul. I feel much better now. I’ll talk to you next week?”
“Yes, possibly the last scheduled session. Bye Nick.”
“Bye Paul. Thank you.”
I seem to be doing more running around the kitchen before Peter arrives than Mum is and she’s the one who has volunteered to cook. I don’t know why this has suddenly become so formal, but it’s taking me ages to set the table and I don’t know where half of the wine glasses even live.
Dad answers the door and takes Peter’s light jacket as he ushers him into the kitchen. He’s my boyfriend and I’m not going to ignore him just because my parents are watching us like hawks. My newfound confidence moves me towards him for a quick hug and a kiss that borders on going beyond chaste.
When I’m reluctant to release him, Dad does his best imitation of a taxi AI and coughs lightly. “Sorry…” I mutter and head back to the far side of the kitchen.
“I hope red wine will go with dinner,” Peter asks, drawing a bottle from behind his back. “Mum said a shiraz was always a good bet.”
“It will go very well,” Dad says as he examines the label. “Nick, why don’t you show Peter around while dinner gets sorted.”
Our house isn’t huge, but it is comfortable enough for the four of us, with all three bedrooms being ensuite. The ground floor is taken up by the large kitchen/diner and an even larger family living room. What was once a garage for a family vehicle is now divided into two small offices with wired terminals for remote working. We’ve been here all my life and it’s comfortably lived-in.
“This is my room,” I whisper to Peter as I draw him inside and push the door closed with my backside.
“It’s exactly what I expected, messy and full of antiques.” He tells me as he pulls me into his arms.
“Antiques? Oh, the movie posters. Yeah, I like early 21st Century action movies. Don’t judge me too harshly.”
“What’s the bed like? Is it comfortable?” I can feel myself being almost carried across the room.
“Stop. We don’t have time.”
“Boys,” Dad calls from below. “Dinner is ready.”
Both the dinner and the wine are excellent. At home I’m allowed to drink and we all enjoy a glass. As we start dessert, Dad gets a second bottle from the cupboard and we all have a little more.
True to their promises, they don’t quiz Peter too closely and everyone seems to get on very well. They take an interest in his work and ask him how he finds living in his own apartment. They are friendly questions, asked in a comfortable and easy manner and answered just as comfortably. I don’t often see my parents quite as relaxed as this and it is something that I feel I should cherish.
By ten o’clock, we are running out of words and Peter suggests that he had better be leaving.
“I’ll walk you home if you like?” I tell him as we move to the door.
“I’d like that, if it’s okay.” Peter turns to look at my parents.
“Of course, it is,” Dad tells him easily. “Just one thing Nick.”
“What Dad?”
“When I’m leaving for work in the morning, be at the breakfast table with us.”
“Yes Dad. Thank you, Dad.”
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