All In My Head

DISCLAIMER: This story contains sensitive content relating to mental health, specifically schizophrenia. It also contains concepts relating to loss and grief.

STORY:

‘Stupid,’ the voice whispers. It hisses and pleads relentlessly. ‘That’s what you are. Stupid’

Reaching for the bread in the toaster that’s been sitting for an hour, it burns my hands. Logically, my mind is aware that after well over an hour of a piece of bread sitting all lonesome, the heat would have escaped. It should have and would have cooled down by now. It should not feel hot to the touch.

‘It’s because you’re an idiot,’ the voice screams at me.

‘Leave me alone!’ I croak.

Hearing gentle tappers against the wood, I see Willow stride in. Her hands and arms straight up to the ceiling, ‘What a beautiful day!’ She reminds me of smiles and candy floss. ‘What a time to be alive!’

Ah, Willow. She gets it. She gets me and my awkwardness. My undeniable dorkiness. Willow doesn’t judge. Willow simply smiles and sails along the roaring cascades. She liberates her own pulsating melody along life’s treacherous tempo.

She’s just Willow.

‘I can see you’re cooking up a storm, are you?!’ She giggles.

‘Literally am,’ I chuckle back. ‘Can you smell the burnt toast!?’

‘Dumb,’ it buzzes in the background. ‘That wasn’t funny.’

SCENE: TABITHA AND CHAZZY

‘It’s past two in the afternoon!’ Tabitha bangs at the door, bellowing in disbelief. ‘Wake up Malay!’ With the door tightly locked, Tabitha shoves her body against the door, and gives it a final nudge, cracking it ajar.

‘My goodness!’ she shrieks. ‘What is that stench!?’

Looking around her son’s room, she paves one foot after another. Chip packets and crumbs surface the floor, mixed in with weeks’ worth of laundry. Disgraceful. Ready to give her son the lecture of a lifetime, Tabitha pulls back the blankets and sheets.

‘Malay...’ his bed is completely empty. He has artistically stuffed pillows and sheets on the bed, mimicking a body under the blankets. His bedroom window is open wide, banging against the frame from the whistling wind.

In a might of frantic panic, Tabitha screams, ‘Chazzy! Get up here right this second.’

Hearing her mum scream like that for the first time in a long time, she skips up the flight of stairs by twos. Chazzy can feel her mother’s lurking worry as she reaches Malay’s room. ‘Mum, what’s wrong?’

Staring right through Chazzy, Tabitha starts having a panic attack. Shaking as she speaks, her mouth trembles. ‘He’s ran off again!’

Attempting to comfort her mum, Chazzy reaches for a hug, only to be met by a push. Currently not wanting any touch, Tabitha ricochets out of the room, bolting down the stairs. Leading behind, afraid to leave her mum in this state alone, Chazzy grabs the car keys, and slams the front door behind.

SCENE: WILLOW’S HOUSE

Smearing our toast with peanut butter and jam, I pour mint tea into each of our cups. ‘Breakfast is served, Madame.’ We both sit in the back yard, laying our sun parched skin among the vibrance in bloom.

Taking a bite of my peanut butter and jam toast, I chew into what tastes like metallic bolts. Not sweet and savoury, as I know it to be. ‘Does the jam or peanut butter taste odd to you?’

Wrinkling her nose, Willow agrees, ‘It is strange, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe it’s all the sugar we’ve been eating.’

‘It’s screwed our taste buds,’ she chimes.

Pointing to the blemishes on our face, we start counting them and telling their stories one by one. ‘This one,’ pointing to my chin, ‘It’s saying hello to the world for me. I think it’s from the chocolate cake I ate the other day.’

Covering her face with both hands, she giggles. ‘How many cakes does that mean I’m eating? And they never go away!’

We both erupt in laughter. Lifting my teacup to sip some tea, I quickly glance at her face, surveying her skin, I notice she’s right. They’ve always been the same blemishes in the same spots.

Never changing.

SCENE: TABITHA AND CHAZZY

Driving aimlessly around the neighborhood, Tabitha continues to sob. Watching her mother upset and helpless, Chazzy tries harder to think of Malay’s whereabouts. Passing by Malay’s old high school, she realises this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Only a couple of weeks ago, Malay ran away. His running away recurs any time he doesn’t take his medication. And quite frankly, in the last few weeks, he hasn’t touched them.

That’s when a light bulb clicked.

If he hasn’t been taking his pills, that means his schizophrenia has kicked in. If his schizophrenia is at its peak, it’s overpowering his mind. And when his schizophrenia dominates, all he knows, breathes and thinks is Willow.

Oh, my goodness! Willow!

‘Thats it mum!’ Chaz claps her hands together in victory, forgetting that she’s in the driver's seat, steering the car.

‘What!?’ Swiveling her head back to front. ‘Where’s Malay!?’ ‘

‘No Mum! The house! Willow’s old house!’

Tabitha’s face lightens up and promptly stops sobbing.

It clicks.

‘Malay’s ran back to Willow’s house! Like last time!’

Chaz screeches her rusty 1997 Toyota Corolla to a halt, makes a three-point turn, back in the other direction. Accelerating the car, she drives towards Willow’s house.

SCENE: TABITHA AND CHAZZY

‘Have you seen my sister inside your house or not?’ Flailing her hands around, Chaz grows frustrated. This strange, little, old lady isn’t going to allow them inside. She really doesn’t get it.

Confused, the little old lady grows frustrated with both Chazzy and Tabitha. ‘This is MY house! You need to leave!’ Pointing her small index finger towards the front gate, ‘Leave now or I am calling the police!’

How do they explain to this woman, who is rightfully fed up, why they need to go inside? Tabitha tries to calm Chazzy down by patting her on the back and communicating the situation to the woman. ‘My son- his name is Malay,’ taking a deep, slow breath, Tabitha closes her eyes. ‘He is a schizophrenic and this house you are living in belonged to his old high school friend whom he loved dearly.’

Giving her a moment to soak it in, Tabitha looks the little old lady dead in the face, before she continues, ensuring that what’s being said is processed.

‘Malay’s friend died in a car crash ten years ago.’

SCENE: WILLOW’S HOUSE

Barging rudely in with no hello, a little old lady, who seems visibly upset, leads with my mother and Chaz behind. ‘There is a doorbell you know,’ I huff. They must have lost their marbles, where have their manners gone?

With no one saying a word, not even acknowledging Willow, I wave my hands in her direction. ‘This is Willow everybody!’

I watch mum tentatively take a few steps towards me, almost frightened. She completely ignores what I said and takes my hand in hers.

‘Please,’ I plead with her, ‘Don’t bring up ‘the voice.’’

SCENE: WILLOW’S HOUSE

‘Mum,’ Chazzy whispers to Tabitha, ‘He’s not listening. Should we call the psychiatrist?’ Tabitha softly nudges Chazzy away and approaches Malay gently.

‘Sweetheart, do you see Willow right now?’

Malay chokes up, trying to ignore his mother.

‘Malay, honey, I need to tell you truthfully because I love you. Really, I...,’ she stumbles and stutters on her words. ‘Uh...all of us, cannot see her. Not Chazzy. Not me. Nor can this woman, whose home this belongs to.’

‘I really cannot.’ Nodding her head quickly, she puts her palm against her chest, and squeaks, ‘And this really, truly is my house.’

SCENE: WILLOW’S HOUSE

I look from mum to Willow. From Chazzy to Willow. Back to mum and then to the old lady.

Then back to Willow.

I notice they’re all wearing different clothes, have different skin, and are different in age.

Except Willow.

For the past decade, Willow has been wearing the same exact yellow, pastel dress. Every day.

Those blemishes on her face, have not budged. Her hair has not changed, once. In the last decade, her straight cut, bob- like, crimson hair, has not grown or shortened by even a centimeter.

Nothing has changed about her.

‘It’s been ten years, Willow, and you’re still the same,’ I sigh.

‘Isn’t that wonderful Malay?’ Willow beams.

I shrug my shoulders, ‘I don’t know anymore.’

Bewildered, mum, Chazzy and the sweet old lady, stand stiffly. Not a peep coming out of them.

Going back to face Willow, I smile. ‘At least change the colour of your dress. Unless you have a million of the same one and I never knew.’ I laugh nervously, knowing all three are watching me.

Everyone’s right.

They’ve been right this entire time.