On The Edge Page #3

- Was your father in today?

- Yeah. How did you know?

- Did he admit you here?

- Yeah.

So he's Irish.

Yeah, he's Irish. My mom was American.

- And do you live in America?

- I did.

I moved here six months ago.

- And where's Mom?

- She's dead.

I'm sorry.

Why are you standing over there?

Come and sit down.

So are you doing that pledge thing?

- Yeah. Are you?

- Yeah. Toby, too.

Yeah, New Year's Day.

It's a great idea, I think.

- I like it.

- Really?

I don't know.

Gives me something to think about.

So you tried to kill yourself.

Why did you want to die?

I don't want to die.

I don't want to be alive.

Are you afraid of dying?

Not for the few seconds

it takes to kill yourself.

Lie on top of me.

Leave your pants on, don't ask questions,

and no exchange of bodily fluids.

You can take off your shirt.

Don't stop. Don't stop.

I'm just f***ing wriggling, really.

- Whatever it is, don't stop.

- Okay. I won't stop.

Oh, God!

What the f*** is the matter with you?

You're just...

"I'm singin' in the rain

"Just singin' in the rain

"What a glorious feeling

"I'm happy again

"I'm laughing at clouds"

Have you got tickets

for the Christmas raffle?

No.

- Do you know where I can get them?

- No.

That's not much good to me.

"Let the stormy clouds chase

"Everyone from the place

"Come on with the rain

I've a smile on my face

"I'll walk down the lane

"With a happy refrain

"Just singin' in the rain"

It was at that moment

that I decided to keep the pledge.

Don't ask me why.

Once every two weeks, there's bowling.

That's where we're encouraged to mix

with the rest of society...

... and behave like normal people.

All right, lads. Get your shoes. Let's go.

Be sure you get the right sizes.

You're very bad at bowling, Toby.

- We should do something this weekend.

- Like what? Have a darts championship?

I've had enough of f***ing broken

rubber darts. I mean, do something.

Driving Miss Daisy is on the telly.

We can invite some of the lunatics

from the high-risk ward.

It could be a laugh.

How do you ever hear

with that stuff blaring in your ears?

Shut up. I was starting to like you.

Don't blow it.

But we should do something.

I mean, go drinking...

...or take some drugs.

- What if we get caught?

If we get caught, f*** it.

We just lose a few privileges.

We'll round up a load of loonies

and head off to the country.

We could have a party in my flat.

- Where do we get the people?

- These are our people.

We'd hand out the address

to lots of day patients.

Say there's free gargle.

They bring their mates.

Everyone wants to do something

on New Year's Eve.

F***!

No, I'm telling you.

The whole thing is f***ing wanks and gays.

- Bowling is shite.

- You shut the f*** up! I'm on the edge.

Wednesdays are visiting days.

I really look forward to them

because my brother comes in.

And he's fantastic.

I saw you with your brother today

in the garden.

What kind of a relationship

do you have with him?

Did you ever see that Marx Brothers sketch

where Chico was asked:

"You love your brother, don't you?"

And he says, "No, but I'm used to him."

- I like the Marx Brothers.

- I like the Marx Brothers, too.

So you have a history of male depression

in your family.

He's been giving you the old rundown,

has he?

He's great, that Mikey.

I have a history of male depression

in my family. So what?

How do you think it's affected you?

Your mother died when you were 10.

Do you think

that's why your father killed himself?

Or was he suffering

from hereditary depression?

I don't know. I suppose

after all these years of loneliness...

...he finally saw the light,

call it what you want.

- I'm proud of him.

- What about yourself?

On the road.

Did you see the light?

I don't want to talk about what you see

at a moment like that.

It would scare the wits out of you.

If I could describe it,

if I could do justice to it...

...we'd all be jumping out the windows.

Up until recently,

cutting yourself was enough.

That's just a matter of letting

a little air out of the tires.

Doesn't work anymore though.

I can talk about this

until the cows come home, Doctor.

I know more about the business of suicide

in my baby finger...

...than you do in all your years of training

and Freud reading.

I guaran-f***ing-tee you that.

I know you do.

Have you ever heard of people,

seeing their own blood and then...

...getting excited?

- You mean sexually?

- Yeah.

Yes, I've heard of it.

Is it for real?

Yes, it's very real.

Why are you interested in it?

Be careful, Jonathan.

What do you mean?

What I say.

Doctors discourage relationships

between suicidal patients in hospital.

I mean,

you wouldn't f***ing blame them, but...

Well, they go along with them

up to a point.

But once either party

becomes seriously attached...

... they become worried, because

when the inevitable breakup comes...

... the person left behind

is in twice the danger.

So you have to be more careful

with people inside...

... because they take you more seriously

than people on the outside.

You can't f*** around

the way you normally do.

Guess who?

It's you. Gosh!

You know, I'm so happy to see you.

I haven't stopped thinking

about you all day.

So is it okay if I walk with you

through these beautiful gardens of ours?

Sure. Why not?

- How's the arm?

- Fine.

- It's all bandaged up.

- Good.

- And how's your hand?

- What about my hand?

It was just that it kept hitting off my face.

- I was just wondering if it was okay.

- Right.

- Yeah, it's fine. How's your face?

- Fine. It's fine.

We should stop talking about our wounds.

That could take all f***ing day.

Anyway, it was my ego that was bruised,

not my face.

Why?

Why? I don't know why.

There's a girl in the high-security ward

who cuts open her abdomen...

...takes her intestines out

and plays with them.

They stitch her back up.

Week later, she does the same thing.

She's really lovely.

Why don't you go figure her out?

Now, you see, I haven't met her.

And she didn't come and slap me

out of the blue for no reason.

- I don't need your help.

- I'm not trying to help you.

Just take care of yourself.

You know what? F*** it.

You want to come up to my room

for some autoerotic asphyxiation?

- Yeah? Now?

- Yeah. I got some hook-eye screws.

We could hang ourselves,

I could smack you around a bit.

- Give you a good time.

- That's a fabulous idea.

- That'd be fun.

- Maybe tomorrow. I can't wait.

Do you want to know

what I think we should do?

- You want to hear it?

- Yeah. Is it dirty?

It's disgusting.

I think we should go sometime

and get some ice creams.

- Just the two of us. Get some fresh air.

- Sure. Sure.

- I'll buy you an ice cream.

- Okay. Call me. I'll be in my room.

I'll be waiting for your call. Call me.

Myself and Toby's breakouts

became a regular weekly thing.

He'd always take me with him.

We both agreed

that a big Christmas party...

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