Page 6 of The Chemistry Test

Cam

So, this is it. First year of university, take two. Hopefully my last do-over. Ryan and George are meant to be helping me unpack but, naturally, they’re both sitting on the floor with the foster kittens.

‘I can’t believe our landlord said you can keep them here,’ George says, holding Tabby, a three-week-old tabby kitten. We’ve pushed most of the smaller furniture to either end of the room to make space for their pop-up playpen, right in front of the sofa.

‘Yeah, she’s cool with it. Plus, I kind of pulled the depression card,’ I say, stroking Callie, the calico kitten.

Ryan and George are the only people besides my parents who know what’s really going on. Why I not only dropped out of uni last year but also took my first break from acting since I started three years ago.

I wouldn’t have gotten into acting at all if it wasn’t for my gran.

Being dyslexic, I didn’t think I’d be able to learn my lines from a script, but Gran knew I could.

So, when the role for Arturo, a small side character in an HBO series came up, Gran – a fellow dyslexic – learned the lines of the audition off by heart to show me that if she could do it, then I could do it too.

And she was right. Playing Arturo in The Age of Artemisia has been my pride and joy for the past three years, and running over to Gran’s house with my new scripts every year was better than Christmas Day. Just like she expected, we were hooked.

So, when she suddenly passed away last year, I felt like my passion for it faded too.

That’s when shit really hit the fan because I started to believe that if the best thing in my life no longer mattered, then I didn’t matter either.

And I’m not really sure if the grief turned into depression or if the grief itself is depression, but it never seemed to get better like it did for everyone else who lost my gran that day.

They say the grief doesn’t get smaller, your life just gets bigger and so it doesn’t feel as crushing and all-consuming anymore – but that doesn’t seem to be happening to me.

‘Got to get the perks where you can,’ Ryan jokes, bringing me back to the conversation, but I can sense the concern behind his words, even if he doesn’t want me to.

‘Every cloud and all that,’ I smirk back, trying to lighten the mood.

Mum’s been fostering kittens since I was five, so I’m used to taking care of them, but this is my first time doing it without her.

Still, I wasn’t lying when I told my landlord they helped.

These tiny kittens, along with the other three at Mum’s, have been the only things helping me get up in the mornings lately.

‘Definitely. Are things any better with that?’

I think about it. ‘Honestly, no. I haven’t noticed any changes yet. Although, I only started the meds last week, so they could take a couple of months to fully kick in.’

Tabby wakes up and climbs off George’s lap and into mine.

I pick her up and nestle my face in her fur.

‘I’m kind of hoping these two will help me keep on top of things until then,’ I say.

‘Plus, I’m seeing a new counsellor when classes start.

I should’ve tried it sooner to be honest, but I’m ready to give it my all again now.

Finally see this year through.’ I sound a hell of a lot more confident than I feel.

Truth is, now I’m behind, Ryan and George will be going into their second year while I’ll be re-doing the classes I dropped out of . .. on my own.

It shouldn’t matter – it’s not like I’m doing any of this for a laugh. Like everyone else, I genuinely am here to get my degree and start working in a field I’m passionate about.

So, no matter how it ends up playing out, I’m going to be a research scientist. Whether it’s for two years or forty, full-time or part-time, it really doesn’t matter. At least, for me it doesn’t. I just know I’m going to do it – someday, somehow.

It’s pretty much always been my plan. Ever since I started secondary school, I’d watch medical documentaries with Gran, often after she’d spent all day working in the field herself, knowing that would be me one day.

Then, when I started acting and realised how much waiting around there is on set, and days – even months off at a time sometimes – I couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly a part-time, remote research job could fit into it all.

Like some sort of bizarre Jenga tower you wouldn’t expect to fit together, but somehow does. I had it all mapped out.

And now, I’m so close. Technically, I’ll only be studying part-time this year, so I should have plenty of time to do it alongside counselling and the kittens. Technically. All I have to do is not fall back into the void as hard as I did back in February.

‘You’ll do it, Cam,’ Ryan says, patting me on the back. ‘Things will be different now we know about it. We’ll make sure of it.’

I nod, particularly at the word ‘different’, cos he’s really hit the nail on the head there. None of us knows whether it’ll be better or worse, but we can, at least, guarantee that things won’t be the same.

Even hearing him calling me my old nickname feels weird and snaps me right back to last year, when I was still going by Cam pretty much everywhere outside of acting.

Whereas this year, as part of the whole do-over plan, I’m even planning to go by my other nickname.

Having two first names and all, it’s not like my options were in short supply.

All my old lecturers have been informed of the change, so when I’m on campus, there’ll be absolutely no reminders of who I was and what I became last year. At least, in that setting, there won’t be.

And I already logged it as my preferred name on the pre-counselling questionnaire too in case, god forbid, there are any of my future classmates at the grief group.

Or worse, fans of the show. You’d think haters would be a bigger concern but, honestly, not for me.

Because what’s there to lose if they already don’t care?

Whereas with the supporters, who actively want me to succeed, I want to show them that I can.

And that I am. Even though I couldn’t be further away from it right now.

I squash the thought as soon as it arrives.

There’s no point dwelling on it. There’re hundreds of reasons I’m not looking forward to going.

The lack of privacy, the time that could be spent studying, the thought of taking on other people’s problems when I can’t even handle my own – just to name a few.

I’d be there all bloody day if I sat and mulled over every single one, but ultimately, despite all of them combined, I know it’s my best chance of getting out of this mess.

The way I see it, every session completed is one more than past Cam ever did, and one step closer to being done with it all.

I must have uttered the last part out loud as Ryan suddenly picks up Callie and chants, ‘The only way out is through! The only way out is through!’ in what I can only describe as whispered shouting.

‘Right, Callie?’ he asks, peering closely at her little face, before tilting his head upwards and laughing, overcome by how cute she is.

And I know he’s right. About all of it.

This whole grief-turned-depression thing sucks – majorly. But even though it feels like it, I’m not in it alone anymore.

Ryan and George will be there, and Mum will be visiting once a week, under the guise of checking on the kittens, so I won’t be able to keep everything to myself again, even if I want to.

Or if the depression tells me to. The normal me, who isn’t depressed, can’t stand the thought of being checked up on, but rationally, I know this isn’t forever. It’s just what I need right now.