Make Me (Remdy)

We All Talk It out

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, death, self harm, alcohol, depression

Gracie takes their food order, telling Andy that, if he likes, they can have a drink together when she finishes at nine. Andy says it sounds good and she leaves them to it. 

"So..." Remington begins, hesitating to figure out exactly what to say next. 

Looking at him, Andy nods. "So," he repeats. "This thing your therapist-sorry, I don't know her name-" 

"Angelica. Dr Harper." 

"Right. This thing Angelica wanted you do to. You should, uh, do it, I suppose." 

"Yes," Remington agrees. "I should." 

"What exactly is it she wants you to do?" 

"Well, she said I mention you and out recent fight a lot, said it's clearly something that's bothering me and in order to move past it, I need to tell you why I reacted the way I did and how you made me feel." 

Andy nods thoughtfully. "Okay. That sounds okay. We can do that." He picks up his wine glass. "I assume you're referring to the fight when I made you leave." 

"Yes, that one. But also everything else. All the times we've upset each other. I need to talk it through, she said."

"Okay." 

"Only if you're...okay with it?" 

"No, sure. Absolutely. I won't stand in the way of you working on your mental health. Go for it." 

"I don't really know where to begin," The younger admits. "There are a lot of things to say." 

A comfortable, thoughtful moment of quiet, then Andy asks, "Well, is there on specific thing either me or you said that's been weighing on your mind? You know, we say a lot of things that I have little memory of, but I do regret and remember saying that your brothers were lucky to have got away from you when they did. I hate that I let myself say something so awful to you, and it was so far from the truth, I don't know what was going on in my mind for me to say that." 

Remington observes the man and can see he is being truthful and sincere. "I appreciate that," he says eventually. "Although it wasn't actually something that I really thought about. Thanks for understanding you were in the wrong." He sips his wine and Andy does the same. "I guess one of the things I always regretted was making such a mockery out of your divorce. You know, bringing it up just because I know it still hurts you, saying things I didn't mean in order to gain some sort of reaction. Most of it was for attention and to make myself feel less alone in how I felt about losing my brothers." 

"That's understandable," Andy says. "Thank you."

"I also could never get out of my head what you said about me ruining your bed sheets." 

Andy has an expression of slight surprise. "Oh, really? I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything  by it." 

"No, I know. I know. You were trying to make me smile or whatever. I don't know, it just made me think, like, is the only thing you cared about the fact that your sheets were ruined? You know, because I had just tried to bleed myself to death and you kept going on about it." 

"Wow, I'm really sorry." 

"I know you care. I knew you cared then. You wouldn't have made such an effort with therapists and letting me stay with you and everything if you didn't, but it was just..." He shrugs. "I suppose I was at such a...such a low point. I'd never been so suicidal as I was then and hearing you say it was a bit like...oh, his bed sheets matter more than me being alive does. I don't know. It's stupid, I-" 

"No," Andy interrupts. "No, it's not. It's really not. I completely get it and I'm sorry for not considering how it might have made you feel. I was so worried and scared for you, I was just trying to lighten the situation for my own benefit. I really didn't mean I was more bothered about my sheets than about you." 

"I know, I just...at that point, I needed to hear that to believe it, and instead I heard 'your life is less important than my bed sheets which you ruined. You ruin everything. You couldn't even die without messing up something', so...there's that." He sips his wine again. 

"I'm really glad you're telling me this. I had no idea it had that much impact on you. I'm sorry. If I ever caused you any mental suffering, please know I'm sorry." 

"Thank you." Remington unfolds the napkin and folds it again repeatedly. "I think it was just the combination of thinking you didn't care about me as much as your sheets and the fact that I was so burnt out mentally that even things you didn't mean rudely were taken that way, if that makes sense. When you were trying to convince me to get help, I saw it as you calling me broken and everything, thought you were having a go at me for how I felt sort of thing, which I know wasn't what was happening at all." 

"I'm aware I can say things that don't always communicate well from me to whoever I'm speaking to. I apologise for that." 

"It's okay, most of it wasn't even that. It was me being madly insecure and suicidal and subconsciously searching for the negative in everything. You're not to blame for most of it, really. You were doing everything you could to help and I didn't even realise." 

Andy watches his hands and his fingers. His sleeve has fallen halfway down his forearm and his bandage is visible. "The most important things is that you're getting help now." 

Remington sends him a brief smile. "Yeah. And thank you for making that happen. I really am grateful for all the money your putting into it and everything."

"Of course, I'm happy to be the one to do that for you." He looks up. Gracie has returned with their food. "Thank you, Gracie," he says cheerfully. "We'll be here all evening so drinks at nine sounds perfect." 

"Great, I'll see you then. Can I get any sauces or anything?" 

"No, thank you. We're okay." 

"She seems nice," Remington says after she's walked away. "Did you know her for long?" 

"A few months. We drove each other home quite a lot after work and car-shared sometimes." He picks up the knife and fork. "Please keep going. If there's anything else I've done that's bothering you, I want to know. This is good." 

"There was one thing." 

"Fire away." 

"It wasn't something you said, but it's connected to you." 

"Oh, who was it?" 

"I believe she said her name was Juilet."