These Days

xi

RENA, AARON VERY QUICKLY REALISES, IS THE KEY TO THE STANTON ROAD INPATIENT HOME. She fills him in on who to avoid at what parts of the day, which nurses to puppy-eye when it calls for desperate measures and perhaps most importantly, how to hide your pills up the side of your mouth - and keep them there - during medicine checks.

"We're not really allowed to have sex in here," she says unabashedly when he asks about the sleeping pills, "at least - we all know it's an unspoken rule. But if they think we're knocked out they check on us less frequently. And also, insomnia is a symptom for a lot of us in here, so it's easier just to have a blanket rule, I guess."

Aaron nods, deciding that it's probably more likely to be the second reason than the first, but he doesn't comment. He's learned to take things Rena says with a pinch of salt - often, she's right, but her arguments are covered in extravagant ramblings and paranoid comments a large proportion of the time.

"But if you do have a night where you're not planning on sleeping like they want us too, it's important to remember the night rounds. Supposed to be every half hour, but sometimes they're up to every hour. Just don't get caught out. It's kind of bad if you do."

"Have you ever been caught?" It slips out of Aaron's mouth before he has time to catch it.

Rena chuckles. "Babe, I've done everything you could possibly do in Stanton - including getting caught at it all," he drawls.

It doesn't really answer Aaron's question, but he goes with it all the same.

"I've got to go," he tells Rena, glancing at the clock.

"Group or indie?"

"Depression group," he answers. He's learned to be blunt are you Rena: she says things as they are. They call this therapy group Swift, but every member has a depression diagnosis and it's not hard to spot the similarities.

Rena nods and heads in a different direction without a goodbye. She checks behind her three times before turning the corner, a gesture which Aaron has learned to take in his stride when it comes to the pink-haired firecracker.

He sighs, fiddling with his thumbs and tracing the path towards the room where Swift meets. He's a couple of minutes early, according to the clock hanging above the doorway, but he takes a seat anyway, lounging against the hard back of the chair. He wishes he had his phone so that play a game or text James or even just scroll through Facebook - anything to speed up the time - but phones are left on the doorstop of Stanton and phones do not cross the line inside.

Phones do not solve the people inside the house.

Out of the thirty something residents, only eight of them are a part of Swift. According to Rena, it's because depression is so common here that it encompasses three of the group therapies alone. Unlike some of Rena's more colourful reasonings, Aaron thinks that it's probably fairly accurate.

He picks at the skin flaking off his forefinger as the room fills up, headed by Arjun, the counsellor with a voice as soft as the caramel of his skin.

"Hey everyone," he says, as the clock ticks exactly ten seconds past the hour. "How are we all feeling today?"

He's met with almost complete silence, aside from the mumble of "surviving" from Roberto, whose face Aaron has never seen sans frown. Everyone else just nods, bowing their own heads towards their laps and praying that this hour might go quickly today and that they won''t be forced to speak up today.