Page 44 of Almost Ours

Yes I fucking did.

But I deserve some kind of independence, some leeway to prove I can take care of myself. I don’t need to constantly be babied. I’ve been able to drive for ages but Oscar usually insists on being the one to drop me places and Mum usually tells me to let him.

Today I don’t want to. I want to drive myself to my therapist’s office, I want to sit in the waiting room alone, I want to answer when he calls my name.

I want to feel my age without feeling guilty or suffocated.

Dr. H asks about my halls and my course and whether I’ve made friends, and I tell him about Abi and Brooke and Ewan. I tell him Oscar is doing well, that Mum has backed off more than I expected, that I’m sleeping okay apart from the odd nightmare and that I haven’t had any thoughts about hurting myself.

I don’t tell him anything about Josh or my feelings towards him, or that I have a silly little crush on someone I’ve just met and he has been making my week.

Then he folds his hands over the notebook on his lap and tells me he’s spoken with Mum about putting provisions in place. That if they suspect I’m getting bad again, they can withdraw me from university.

Even if I disagree.

Even if I say no.

They can’t literally drag me home by my hair, but they can stop funding my accommodation, contact the university, involve the people whose names are attached to every support agreement I signed before coming here, and all of it has been discussed without me being part of the conversation.

Again.

By the time I’m out of there I’m so angry I can barely see straight.

OSCAR (19:00): Rubes? What the fuck? How did it go? Everything okay?

I sit in his parked car outside his flat and resist the urge to scream at the top of my lungs.

RUBY (19:15): Yeah, O. Everything’s fine. I parked your car in the same spot. Thanks for letting me borrow it. xXx

OSCAR (19:15): I didn’t let you do shit. You STOLE it!

It doesn’t make me laugh. I clamber out of his car and head back to my halls in a fog. Ignoring mum constantly trying to ring my phone.

MUM (20:01): Ruby, sweetie. Just spoke to Dr. H. Please don’t be upset with the provisions put in place. It’s for your wellbeing and will only be actioned if we see a rapid decline in your mental health. Love you xx

RUBY (20:02): Those ‘provisions’ mean that you can pull me out of uni at ANY TIME even if I say NO. You all need to start trusting me!

MUM (20:03): We do trust you. We just want to be safe.

Such bullshit.

Trusting me would be letting me tell them if I wasn’t coping.

Trusting me would be believing I know myself well enough to recognise when something is wrong.

Trusting me would be allowing me to fuck up in all the normal ways everyone else my age gets to fuck up without treating every bad week as evidence that I need to be removed from my own life.

I throw my phone down onto my bed and shout, “FUCK!” But the anger doesn’t leave. It stays with me through my shower, and two cups of tea, and even after watching my favourite episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

When my phone goes at eleven I very nearly hurl the thing out of my window.

JOSH (22:03): Hey! Some guy with the football lot was asking about you tonight. His name is Tom, he’s on the Seconds. Do you know who he is?

RUBY (22:04): Hey! Yeah, he’s on my course. We have to do a project together. X

JOSH (22:04): Oh, right. Cool x

It’s an odd reply for Josh, he’d usually tease me or something.