If You Love Me, Get Clean

Chapter Eight

2003

You've got a warm heart
You've got a beautiful brain
But it's disintegrating
From all the medicine

"Fletcher!"

Alice jerks awake. "Sir?"

"Heat transfer. Equation. Now."

Professor Kingsly's words drop into place in Alice's brain and she whirs through her memories of equations.

"One over..." She trails off, the formula just beyond reach.

"See me after," Kingsly says flatly. "Danworth, how about you?"

Alice props her chin up on the heel of her palm, flicking through the text book. She glares at the equation when she finds it, of course she bloody knew it, now it's just staring at her mockingly.

Sleep deprivation, she has learned, does not treat her well.

The rest of the lesson whizzes by with a series of on the spot questions. She manages to get the next two directed at her correct, and before she knows it Professor Kingsly is dismissing the class. He fixes her with a stare that quite plainly says stay and she slouches her shoulders, not looking forward to another lecture.

"Alice," Kingsly begins, taking Alice by surprise. She had no idea he knew her first name, no idea he even cared what any of their names were, unless they sounded good when he was barking at them. "Is everything alright at home?"

"Fine." She says blearily, but her treacherous body forces a yawn out of her before she can stifle it.

"When did you last get a full night's sleep?"

Alice shrugs.

Kingsly sighs, and she's almost convinced he's genuinely concerned. "How are you handling the work? If you're stressed about it–"

"No, it's fine," Alice tells him, and he nods. "I'm keeping on top of it, it's no bother."

"I didn't think it was that. All of your coursework is... well, it's the highest standard out of the whole class. It always has been. I'm just worried because the only way you can go from there is down, and by the looks of things, you're heading towards trouble. That's the last thing you need."

"I'm fine, I just..." Alice doesn't know what to say, where to even start.

"We have counsellors here," Kingsly says softly. "If you'd feel more comfortable talking to them. All confidential. I can book you an appointment if you need me to."

"No," she says. "No, it's fine. But..."

"Go on."

"How do you help someone who won't help themselves?"

"You can't," he replies simply. "You just can't."

Alice leaves the lab feeling no better for the conversation. She feels ten times worse.

She stops at the shop on the way home, grabbing a few packets of biscuits, custard creams for her and ginger nuts for him, a fresh carton of apple juice, tea bags and a bottle of milk.

"That everything?" the cashier asks. "Or d'you want twenty B&H as well?"

"Yeah," she says. "Please."

"You're too good to him you know," he tells her as he takes the cigarettes from the shelf behind and packs them into the bag with the rest of her purchases. "Far too good to him."

"Tell me about it." She replies weakly, forcing a smile.

"How is William, anyway?"

"Same as ever."