It takes another two weeks for me to feel somewhat normal again — to want to talk and spend more time out of bed than in it.
I can see Sylvia's relief when I start eating again, can feel Jake calming, his body relaxing like a sigh when my smile comes back. Even Peter, the blank wall that he is, offers a grunt of approval when I sit next to him on Thursday night to watch the cricket.
I'm beginning to think Muhammad's eye movement thingy works too, because though I still dream of the fires, I no longer wake up screaming.
And when I do wake to nightmares, a steel vice gripping my chest, I can hear a calm, experienced voice whispering beneath the panic: you've felt like this before. It won't kill you. It feels like you can't breathe, but you're breathing. You think it'll never stop, but, it will.
On Friday, I wake with no dreams burning in the back of my mind, and I throw my school uniform on and jump downstairs with more energy than I've had in weeks.
"Morning," I say when I reach the kitchen.
Sylvia is standing by the sink, straining the coffee and sending rich wafts of cocoa through the room. She glances over her shoulder at me and smiles.
"Morning, Claude. You seem happy today."
"I am."
I sit down, pulling the toaster towards me and chucking some bread in it, my stomach rumbling.
The sun is streaming in through the window, fracturing as it hits the glass and scattering light and shadow in the shape of Sylvia's pot plants that sit on the sill. I take a moment to admire it, basking in the beauty that's returned to my world.
"I didn't have any nightmares last night," I say. "Not one."
Sylvia turns to me, and the relief that has been growing within her over the last few days is clear on her face.
"That's fantastic, darling! By the way, we have a visitor."
For the first time, I notice Aleisha standing in the doorway to Sylvia's studio, hovering and unsure.
"Hey Claude."
I stare at her, a small stab of guilt penetrating my good mood.
Even under the fog I'd been living in over the past weeks, I'd noticed Emmy and Aleisha's efforts to talk to me, to spend time with me or make me laugh. None of it had worked. And the longer I'd stayed expressionless, the more unsure they'd become.
I'd hated myself for it, but that had changed nothing.
Depression is funny in that way.
"Hey Aleisha," I say, letting an excessive amount of warm thread through my voice. "I didn't know you had a lesson this morning."
She moves forward, emboldened by my reception, and sits beside me. Her wild hair is pulled back into a bun and I can see a new spot of vitiligo creeping up her neck.
"I don't," she says. "I mean, I had to stop by to pick up sheet music from Sylvia, but... I was hoping we could catch the bus to school together?"
She glances at me, searching and hopeful, and guilt and gratitude floods me simultaneously.
"Of course," I say. "That'd be great."
"Hey, Sylvia!"
Jake's yell echoes down from above, moving closer.
"Do you know where my — oh. Hi."
Jake is halfway down the stairs when he spots Aleisha and comes to a halt. He looks slightly dishevelled. One of his shoes is absent, his hair is sticking up in random tufts and his shirt hangs open, tie half done up around his neck.
He seems to realise how ridiculous he looks at the same time we do, and he flushes.
"Aleisha. What are you... ah... I didn't know you had a lesson this morning."
Aleisha laughs. "Is that the Cairns version of saying hello?"
Sylvia puts cups of juice in front of Aleisha and me and turns to Jake.
"Do you want some juice, Jakey?" she asks. "You'll have to come down here for it. I won't let you drink it half way up the stairs."
"No, I'm fine."
He turns and jumps back up the steps, taking two at a time in his haste to return to his room.
Sylvia frowns after him.
"Weren't you going to ask me something?" she calls.
"Huh?" Jake comes to a stop again and then registers what Sylvia has said. "Oh, no, I'm fine. It's fine."
And then he skitters up the last few steps and slams his door.
We all sit there, listening, as he races around his room, thumps and slams and quick footsteps travelling across the ceiling. Sylvia follows his movements with her eyes, frowning.
"That boy is quite strange sometimes."
I smother my smile into my coffee and glance at Aleisha.
"I dunno. There might be some method to his madness."
Aleisha shoots me a look that only intensifies my amusement, and I'm thinking of more ways to tease her when Sylvia speaks.
"Aleisha mentioned that she and Emmy are going dress shopping today, Claude. You didn't tell me you have a ball in a couple weeks!"
Her tone is teasing, but my smile falters.
"Oh." I glance at my drink. "Yeah, I suppose not."
"You should come shopping," Aleisha says. "It'll be fun."
"Yeah, maybe. I just have a lot of homework, not sure I have the time."
My toast pops and I grab it, spreading Vegemite along it with more focus than usual, hoping they'll change the subject by the time I'm done. But when I finish, they're both still staring at me, and Sylvia's eyes are narrowed.
"But you hate homework."
I clear my throat, wishing I'd mentioned the dance to Sylvia earlier.
"Yeah... I know. I just... I'm not sure I'm going to the ball."
Aleisha looks shocked. "Why not?"
There it is; the question I've been dreading. I hesitate, running through excuses in my head.
I hate balls. I don't condone after-school activities. No, Sylvia, I don't want to dress up and feel pretty and maybe dance with a cute guy. What kind of fool wants that?
"Because I can't afford a dress."
My voice is quiet, the embarrassment leaking through, and Sylvia's face softens.
"Of course, you can. I'll pay for it."
I take a bite of my toast and it slides thickly down my throat.
"Sylvia, you already pay for everything else."
"Oh, hush," Sylvia says. "That's my job, isn't it?"
I stare at her, wanting to blurt out the obvious: that it really wasn't. Or it shouldn't be. She'd already done more for me than any other adult I've ever known.
"It doesn't have to be an expensive dress, Claude," Aleisha says, interrupting my inner turmoil. "Emmy wants to go to some fancy stores, but I'd like to check out op shops too. We could find you something there?"
"That's a great idea!" Sylvia exclaims.
Before I can protest again, she bustles over to her handbag, grabs out her wallet and counts the cash inside.
"Here you go, darling," she says, handing me a $50 note. "You'll be able to find something with that."
"Sylvia—" I protest.
"No, I won't have any arguments. You deserve to have a fun night. I want you to go."
I stare at her for a moment, but I can see that protesting would be useless, that she doesn't see Jake and I as the burdens we are, so I pull her into a hug instead.
"Thank you."
Sylvia pats me on the back.
"It's my pleasure, darling."
A cacophony of noise comes down the stairs, and Jake appears in the kitchen once more — noticeably less ruffled.
"Good to go?" he asks.
I pull away from Sylvia and grab my school bag, hauling it onto my back.
"Yeah."
Jake walks out the front door, Aleisha following close behind, but I hover for a moment.
"Are you sure about this, Sylvia? I know things are a bit tight after the trip."
"I am," she says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. "Now run along. I don't want you missing your bus."
...
Hello my lovely readers!
Thank you, once again, for investing your time in Claudia and Jake's story :)
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Next chapter will be out in a week.
Lots of love,
- Skylar xx