Current Projects – I wish I was Achilles

This is a fictional account of a young scientist, Jason Reilly, who is having a break-down. The story begins with him visiting a counsellor who, naturally, Jason doesn’t want to see at first, but soon realises there is no one in the world he can turn to but the friendly stranger in front of him.

Together they are able to peel through the layers of Jason’s life to uncover what has led him to the dark place he feels he is stuck in. From his later years at school, University and the start of a promising research position, they embark on the reflective journey together.

Several things are brought to the surface including the recent death of his soulmate, Lucy. Jason tries to explain how he feels tortured by a ruthlessly ambitious nature and a ‘failure’ to use this effectively through science. His counsellor suspects he is suffering from Impostor Syndrome.

Overall, the novel is an important read for anyone who is struggling with their career – be it specifically related to scientific research or something else. The underlying desire for Jason is to combine a bread-bringing profession with a passionate hobby – a goal which is only achieved by the minority in life – as sad as it seems. It relates to a vast audience in today’s world, briefly exploring aspects of mental health and depression. Whilst these issues are relevant today, they are also timeless and therefore this novel will hopefully inspire future generations as well.

Thetis wished to make her son Achilles immortal, so she dipped him in the waters of the sacred river Styx, holding him by the heel. As a result, he was vulnerable at that point. At the end of the Trojan War, Paris, under the guidance of Apollo, aimed his fatal arrow at Achilles’ only weak point causing the great hero to finally fall.

A breakdown.

That’s what they said I was having.

Me.

A breakdown.

Impossible.

I wasn’t the kind of person that happened to. I’ve seen the kind of person that happened to. And that’s not me.

What did it even mean anyway? A breakdown. It made me think of a car. A car on a journey of some sort. With an intended destination. There might be good parts of the journey, there might be bad. Wrong turns, diversions, shortcuts, whatever. But generally, the car was moving. Moving towards its destination.

But the breakdown. That changed everything. The journey was interrupted. If the car was lucky, it would be able to pull off the road before something more serious happened. Once off the road, all it can do is wait. In a rut. For help that will hopefully come soon. The car might be able to continue its journey, if it can be fixed. But the destination is unlikely to be the same. Or it might have to go back to where it started from, because the destination no longer makes sense.

So much was dependent on whether the car could be fixed.

If it could be fixed.

I sat in the waiting room, wondering if that’s what I was here for. To be fixed.

It was a dismal little room, with an unoccupied reception area on one side and a small seating zone on the other. To the right of me, was the door I’d come in not long ago and on the opposite side, another door, through which I guessed the ‘fixing process’ took place. The walls were littered with posters showing things like ‘MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS’ and ‘LET’s TALK’ written in big letters along with smaller text which I couldn’t read without getting closer.

I was drawn to one though, probably because of its bright orange colour. It had the image of a man, crouched in a dark corner with his head down and arms hugging his knees. In large, white lettering, the caption read: ‘It’s okay to ask for help’. I looked at the face of the man and despite it being cartoon-like, it did seem quite depressed. More than that really, it looked so…defeated.

Was that what I was, defeated? It couldn’t be. I haven’t felt like that my whole life, well, at least not before my…incident. And I have so much going for me. I’m young, I’m not unattractive, I have a career…okay, so the career is a bit up in the air at the moment. But what in life is perfect? I wasn’t the man in the picture. I couldn’t be. God, when I think back, I was the complete opposite to such a desolate figure. I was invincible. Everybody thought so, especially me.

I wasn’t alone in the waiting room. There was a woman there too, with a kid perhaps around four or five years old. He was busy laying into some chunky building blocks from a box on the floor. It looked like he was trying to build a tower and wasn’t making too bad a job of it. I sort of wanted to help him – make the whole thing sturdier and higher by staggering the layers of bricks. But he had a very determined expression on his face, and I didn’t think he would appreciate my help. I wasn’t sure the mother would have liked it either. I started to feel jealous of the boy, partly because he had the bricks to play with, but more because the coloured tower was the only problem he had to worry about.

I sensed the woman in the room wasn’t here to be fixed like me. Most likely she was waiting for someone. Probably her husband and the boy’s father. I caught her glancing towards me at that point, maybe because of my evident interest in her son’s tower. She would know I wasn’t waiting for anyone. That I was one of the ‘patients’, here to be fixed. Maybe she thought I was nuts. I guessed she was in her early forties, there or thereabouts, and noticed she had a lot of make-up on. She was pretty enough, but I had the impression she worked hard to look the way she did – not because she had to, but more because she felt she needed to.

The door to my left suddenly opened and a man came out. He very carefully shut the door behind him and looked towards us in the seating area. The woman smiled at him and stood up, swinging a handbag with a golden chain over her shoulder. The boy was still immersed in his tower-building and didn’t even seem to notice.

The man was a lot older than I was and dressed in a grey, crumpled-looking suit. His eyes looked tired through a pair of thin-rimmed glasses, and his head was hanging so low that his chin was close to his chest. He could have been a life-like image of the man in the poster.

In a way, it boosted my confidence, seeing this figure in front of me. It was like confirmation that I really didn’t need to be here. I was twenty-nine years old, dressed in jeans, trainers and a t-shirt, whereas he looked like some kind of businessman, with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The woman had to beckon to the boy a couple of times, but eventually he relented and gave up on his tower. He glowered at me shamelessly as he passed, the way kids sometimes do, and I managed a small smile in return. The three of them then left and I was alone in the room.

A clock started ticking from somewhere and I sighed and stretched out my arms behind my head. I wasn’t having a breakdown. My mind was sound and my body was strong. Sure, a few things had gone wrong lately. I knew that. And I regretted what I’d done in Boston. I wasn’t having a breakdown for God’s sake. When it was time to go in, I would just apologise for wasting their time and get the hell out of here.

I looked at the incomplete tower in front of me and considered doing some work on it myself.

‘Jason?’

I turned to where the businessman had recently come from and saw another man standing in his place. This one was younger, probably similar in age to myself, and he was scruffy-looking, reminding me of a student from work.

‘Do you want to come in now?’

I rose from my chair and followed him through the door.

I found myself in a room which looked like an office, with a large desk and two chairs, one on either side. There was also a sofa, and I started worrying he might ask me to lie on it.

He didn’t though, instead sat down at the desk and motioned for me to sit opposite. I obliged, slowly sinking into the chair.

He was also dressed casually, in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. He had curly blonde hair, and I noticed he smiled a lot, showing off a set of perfect-looking teeth. I spotted a solar system model on his desk and immediately became fixated on it.

‘So how are you feeling today?’ he asked, smiling again.

The model had a pillar with a large sphere at the top, which I assumed was supposed to be the sun. Smaller spheres were connected to the pillar with little rods and looked like they were able to move so that the planets could assume an infinite number of positions. As I stared at it, the planets were fixed though. Presumably having the random layout since the model was placed on the desk.

‘Jason?’

I looked at the curly-haired man in front of me.

‘Sorry?’

‘I asked how you were feeling today,’ he repeated gently.

‘Oh, fine,’ I said. ‘Absolutely fine. I was actually just thinking outside that…’

My voice trailed away to nothing, and I stared at the model again. Something was happening inside me, something which I knew was going to be difficult to control.

‘What were you thinking, Jason?’

‘Just that I, well just that I…I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.’

My voice sounded strange and I knew the curly-haired man could hear it too.

‘Maybe we should start from the beginning,’ he said.

His face became hazy and I knew it was useless to hold it back any longer. Tears started pouring out of me and I put my hands up quickly to cover my face.

‘It’s okay, Jason,’ he said quietly. ‘Please don’t try and hold anything back. I’m here to listen to whatever you need to say.’

But it wasn’t okay. It really, really wasn’t. I did need fixing after all. Everything that had happened, it had done stuff to me, broken something inside. It was like an illusion had finally been shattered and an unwelcome reality was presented in front of me. I wasn’t invincible. I was just like everyone else. And I had fallen. The great hero which I thought I was, had finally fallen.

The Furies were a trio of female deities who delivered the Gods’ version of justice to mankind. They relentlessly drove Orestes to the brink of madness following the murder of his mother Clytemnestra. All seemed lost until the Goddess Athena intervened and insisted upon a fair trial for Orestes. It was eventually deduced that Orestes believed he was killing his mother in order to avenge the murder she committed on his father, Agamemnon. When the trial was concluded, Athena proclaimed the innocence of Orestes and he was finally set free from the torture of the Furies.

I must have cried for two minutes straight.

With the curly-haired man just watching me.

That’s a bit weird if you think about it. Crying in front of someone for a whole two minutes. I mean, you’d expect them to offer some words of comfort, maybe try and put an arm around you or something.

But the curly-haired man did neither. He seemed quite content just to let me get on with it. Had he even told me his name? If he did, I couldn’t remember.

It’s the kind of thing I would’ve been really embarrassed about before. But for some reason I didn’t care about it now. Part of it might have been the non-judgemental vibe I was getting. The expression on the guy’s face seemed to show that he was genuinely concerned about me. But the bigger part of it was a feeling of not giving a shit about what anyone thought anymore. 

I hadn’t even cried when Lucy…

No, I couldn’t go there, not now.

And before that? I couldn’t remember. It was probably when I was still a kid. Sure, there’d been times when I’d been sad or upset. But actual crying? That had definitely been a long time ago.

‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered, trying to pull myself together.

‘You don’t have to apologise,’ he said, smiling again. ‘Please, just do what you need to do.’

I wiped both eyes with the backs of my hands and looked at him. I attempted to smile in appreciation and took a deep breath.

‘I was actually going to tell you that everything was fine, and I was sorry for wasting your time.’

‘I get that a lot,’ he said and I managed a real smile this time.

A short pause followed.

‘Is there anything in particular that you’d like to share?’

‘Not really,’ I answered a little automatically.

‘Are you sure?’

I closed my eyes and thoughts of Boston started flooding my mind. He obviously knew what had happened already, well, the last part at least.

‘I’m more than happy to listen,’ he went on gently. ‘If you want to tell me of course.’

I took another deep breath. Maybe it would help if I tried to explain it to him. I hadn’t really talked to anyone about it all properly. I knew they wouldn’t understand and I really doubted the guy in front of me would either. But at this point, what did I have to lose?

‘I was in Boston,’ I began. ‘About a month ago.’

I paused at that point, because I noticed him opening a small book and reaching for a pencil on his desk.

‘Do you mind if I take some notes while you speak, Jason?’ he asked quickly.

I just shrugged.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Carry on.’

‘It was for a conference. Well, part of it was anyway. I’m a research scientist.’

I noticed him scribbling something down. It was distracting, but I continued to speak anyway.

‘The conference part was mostly okay, but after that there was a meeting at a company which I went to with my boss, Martin. We have meetings like that a lot, with companies I mean. To try and get them to work with us.’

The curly-haired man just watched me as I spoke. I got the feeling he was going to be a good listener. 

‘It was all fine at the start,’ I went on. ‘Like it always is. But it soon drifted into what just seems to be the norm for me these days. When I think about it, I don’t even know if things have ever been different.’

I think I noticed his eyes narrowing slightly and I could tell the curly-haired man was confused already. He didn’t interrupt me though.

‘It was just another meeting,’ I pressed on. ‘But there was so much precedence for what was happening to me that I felt I couldn’t get through another one. I remember muttering something like “Martin, I can’t do this anymore,” but he didn’t hear me at first. He was just going on about blood-testing and how our miniaturised devices were going to revolutionise everything.’

The words seemed to be gushing out of me. In the waiting room, just ten minutes ago, I never imagined I’d be sounding off like this. But I had to admit, it did feel good to start letting it out. The fact that the curly-haired man was a stranger seemed to make things easier.

‘I tried to interrupt Martin again, but still he went on. He was talking about resources being wasted by patients not being able to test themselves at home and how it was fast becoming an unsustainable situation for health services around the world.’

I closed my eyes and I was back there. It felt so hot in the meeting room. There was sweat on my forehead, and it was running down my sides under my shirt. My collar seemed to be squeezing my throat.

‘I tried to look at Martin beside me, but he was gone – the latest spiel had taken him to his feet, and he was parading around the room.’

I didn’t say this to the curly-haired man, but whilst Martin had been blithering on, I’d imagined taking a sledgehammer from somewhere and using it to smash the table in front of me, in full view of everyone. In my head I’d been screaming, I don’t give a fuck about any of this – I REALLY…don’t…give…a…fuck! It was a wonder no-one had been able to notice anything from my expression.

The curly-haired man started scribbling again.

‘The other people in the room,’ he said, almost reading my mind. ‘Had you met any of them before?’

‘No. Martin might have, but I definitely hadn’t.’

He nodded so I started speaking again.

‘So, then he says he doesn’t want to steal any of my thunder and that I was planning to take them through the design for one of our blood-testing devices.’

I paused for a moment and waited to see if there was any response from the curly-haired man. I vividly remembered the butterflies in my stomach when Martin had said this and how I’d been thinking, was I? Really? That’s news to me…

‘He dropped this out of nowhere,’ I tried to explain. ‘No heads-up before we went in, nothing.’

‘Does he do that kind of thing a lot?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, nodding.

I sensed from the curly-haired man’s expression that he thought it was all just to do with me being put on the spot, so I quickly tried to go on.

‘He told them my explanation would take twenty minutes or so and then we would get into the health service discussions in more detail.’

I stared at the model solar system on his desk for a few seconds.

‘It was unbearable,’ I muttered.

I remembered Martin just standing in silence next to a white board, holding out a pen. Around ten pairs of eyes, including his, were directed towards me. They were like lasers penetrating different parts of my body.

‘Why was it unbearable, Jason?’

‘Because…’ I started, but then changed my mind.

The curly-haired man was just staring at me, and I could tell he was trying to understand.

‘I don’t have an issue speaking or presenting to anyone,’ I said. ‘If anything, I’m probably over-confident. Yeah, Martin was putting me on the spot. But that wasn’t it. Like I said, he’s done that plenty of times before.’

I was definitely down-playing things here. I have confidence and ambition coming out of my earholes. And a fire in my stomach which always gets me through situations like the one in Boston, no problem. But Boston seemed to be the end of the road. Something different had been going on in my head, like some mysterious force had taken hold and I couldn’t shake free. I didn’t want to use my confidence anymore, not for Martin’s research anyway.

‘These other times with Martin,’ he said. ‘Were they generally the same kind of situation?’

‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘Well actually, no, not really.’

‘Do you have another example?’ he asked patiently.

I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for me to explain things to him. I wasn’t even sure I understood it all myself.

‘I guess in the academic world there are lots of big personalities around,’ I said.

‘Like Martin?’

‘I suppose, but he’s not the worst.’

The curly-haired man’s eyes seemed to narrow again with that look of trying to understand.

I decided to tell him about something else.

‘Martin introduced me to this old Professor once, at another conference. I’d just been talking with some PhD students around their projects at the time.’

‘You have a PhD, don’t you Jason?’

I nodded.

‘Which subject?’

‘Chemistry.’

I noticed him scribbling away again.

‘Please, go on,’ he said.

‘So, he brings this Professor over to me who; do you know that way when you first meet someone, they just give off an impression of being dominant?’

The curly-haired man didn’t commit to an answer, instead just pursed his lips and rocked his head from side to side.

I looked over at the sofa again and still didn’t fancy the idea of lying on it.

‘I remember the old Professor seizing my hand and barking, “Jason, good to meet you.”’

The curly-haired man smiled.

‘Martin introduced him to me as Professor Uhlemann. I’d heard of him before, because he’s quite a big name in our field.’

I suspected the curly-haired man was probably wondering where I was going with this, so I was keen to continue.

‘He asked me what I worked on and I told him it was around the miniaturisation of medical devices. I remember him sort of snorting and asking if I could be more specific. I tried to explain a bit further, but he wasn’t having any of it. He asked a couple of technical questions and I knew he wasn’t happy with how I answered them. Martin was standing there the whole time which didn’t help.’

I sighed and closed my eyes briefly.

‘I just remember his face; the old Professor’s I mean. It was so close to mine and his eyes seemed like they were trying to find a weakness somewhere. I knew it didn’t matter what I said, he was only going to disagree. He’d pushed me out of my depth and knew it too. It made me feel stupid. I think that’s what got to me the most.’

I noticed the curly-haired man writing something in his book again and I wondered what it was.

‘So, what happened next?’

‘I tried to change the subject and asked him if he was enjoying the conference. I remember him just giving me a look like someone had wiped shit under his nose. Martin started speaking to him after that, not before giving me one of his disappointed stares of course.’

‘Disappointed stares?’

Yeah,’ I said a little sadly. ‘I’ve had those a few times. He never actually says anything, but I always know what he’s thinking.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘I don’t know, like I’ve let him down? Like I should be doing better? Or that I should know more than I do?’

‘If he’s never actually said any of these things, how can you be sure that’s what he’s thinking?’

‘Some things don’t need to be said,’ I muttered. ‘And that old Professor, when I realised what he was like, I couldn’t even be bothered trying to convince him of anything else. His only interest was stamping his authority and heaven forbid anyone should challenge his ideas. I knew I didn’t have the technical knowledge to tackle him. Not like Martin.’

I remembered how the old Professor and Martin moved away from me after my interrogation. The Professor motioned his arm into what Martin must have assumed was a handshake, but there seemed to be some confusion between them, and they ended up linking arms awkwardly before walking away in a bizarre fashion, neither apparently willing to correct the mistake.

‘How long before Boston was this, Jason?’

‘A few months, maybe more.’

‘And it ended up being a similar situation? You felt inferior, technically?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, maybe that was part of it. But it wasn’t just that. It was, I don’t know, something else.’

A short silence was all that followed.

‘How did you get on with giving the overview that Martin sprung on you?’

‘Sorry?’

‘He asked you to describe the design of a medical device?’

‘Oh yeah. Well, that’s just it, I…I couldn’t go through with it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was going to, at first. I got up and started to walk towards him – Martin, I mean. He had a pen in his hand; I guess he thought I would need it to sketch on the whiteboard. But as I reached up to take it, I froze and just stared at him instead.’

The curly-haired man was staring at me himself now and I could tell he was eager to hear what I was going to say next.

‘I was thinking to myself, this is it. I just kept repeating that in my mind, this is it, this is it. From the look on Martin’s face, he clearly had no idea what was going on. I said again that I couldn’t do this anymore. I said it quietly at first and then I repeated it in a louder voice so that everyone in the room could hear me.’

‘That must have been really hard for you, Jason,’ the curly-haired man said as some tears started rolling down my cheeks again.

I don’t know if this was because I was reliving the moment in Boston or because I felt some kind of emotion from the look of understanding finally creeping into the face across from my own.

‘It was, I mean I…’

But I couldn’t form any more words in my mouth.

‘Please, take your time.’

‘I haven’t spoken to Martin since,’ I stuttered through more tears. ‘I just walked out of the meeting and…’

‘And what, Jason?’

I took a deep breath. ‘I’ve ruined my career forever.’

‘I’m not much of a crier normally,’ I said, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands again.

‘It’s actually quite good for us to have a proper cry from time to time,’ said the curly haired man. ‘It’s amazing the number of people who just won’t give in to it.’

I tried to picture him in floods of tears. For some reason it wasn’t that difficult. He seemed to be the type. I also remembered that I still didn’t know his name.

‘What did you say your name was again?’ I asked.

‘Darren,’ he replied.

Darren, I repeated in my head. He did sort of look like a Darren.

We sat in silence for a few moments and then I said, ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.’

‘You mean with Martin?’

‘Martin, work, research in general…’ I closed my eyes and rolled my head back until I was looking at the ceiling. I could feel my heart racing a little, maybe because I’d never said any of this out loud before.

Darren seemed to be reading back on some of the notes he’d been taking.

‘I’m struggling a bit with what drove you to walk out of the meeting the way you did. And the old Professor you mentioned; of course I don’t have the technical expertise, but it doesn’t seem like you said anything particularly wrong?’

I kept my eyes closed and just shook my head.

‘Perhaps there’s more to this?’

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ I muttered.

My head felt like it could explode from the sea of thoughts swirling around inside. There were things in there I didn’t want to talk about. Things which were difficult to even think about when I was alone. But then again there was something about speaking to Darren which seemed to feel good. I’d already cried in front of him, so how could it get any worse? Maybe I could share some more with him.

I opened my eyes at last and looked at him. ‘There is more to it.’

When I didn’t speak any further, Darren said, ‘Why don’t we step back a bit, Jason.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I wouldn’t mind hearing about your childhood, if you’re happy to share of course.’

I shifted around in my chair as I wondered what my childhood had to do with anything. I’d heard however, that people like Darren tended to ask about such things, to try and find hidden meanings and past connections. At least it was a diversion from some of the other thoughts in my mind.

‘There’s not really much to tell to be honest.’

‘What about your parents?’

‘Fine,’ I said, slightly perplexed. ‘They’ve always supported and helped me as best they could.’

Darren didn’t say anything in response, so I continued. ‘I don’t really remember being unhappy or in need of anything in particular as a kid.’

‘What are the earliest sorts of things you can remember?’

I thought about this for a few seconds. ‘Probably just primary school and stuff – I don’t really remember much before that.’

‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

‘No.’

I noticed him scribbling again briefly.

‘Does anything in primary school stick out for you?’

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘I guess in general, everything seemed to be fun, and I never found anything to be that difficult.’

‘So, you were a quick learner then?’

‘I guess. I was competitive and wanted to do better than everyone else.’

It was deeper than that. For as long as I could remember, I’ve had an ambitious streak in me, fuelling a desire to stand out.

Darren was writing again. ‘Where do you think this ambition came from, Jason? Can you remember roughly when it started?’

‘I don’t really know,’ I answered truthfully. ‘I suppose at school, I never had to try that hard to get better marks than everyone else and teachers would always tell me things like I’d completed projects well or say that I was going to go far. That type of thing. Maybe it all just went to my head.’

‘Was it the same in secondary school?’

‘Pretty much. Especially in subjects like History, English and other languages. I think the fact that I enjoyed them made things easier.’

‘I suppose if teachers always had students who loved their subjects, their jobs would be a lot simpler,’ said Darren.

I nodded thoughtfully.

‘So, you were always popular with your teachers then?’

‘I think so,’ I replied, but then smiled as I remembered something. ‘Sometimes I took advantage of that though.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, there was this maths class when I was in first year of secondary school. Maybe it was second year. It was being taken by a student teacher – he was probably a little older than I am now.’

I’d thought about saying a little older than we are now – assuming that Darren was close in age to me. But as we’d been speaking, I still wasn’t sure. I doubted he was younger, but he couldn’t have been that much older.

‘He made some comment about me being unusually pale and to try and get out in the sun a bit more. I’m sure he wasn’t trying to be a dick or anything, but at the time it really pissed me off. So, I just stopped listening to him and didn’t bother with an exercise he left for us.’

I remember hating everything about that teacher after what he said and stubbornly staring out of the window, ironically with the sun was shining on my face.

I continued smiling to myself.

‘So what happened?’

‘He came up to me and asked why I hadn’t done any work. I was hoping he would – I’d even left my blank jotter on the edge of my desk to make sure he saw it. He said something like, “What have you been doing for the last thirty minutes?” I remember the class turning their attention on us – surprised probably, that I was going to get into trouble. I think this encouraged me even more.’

It was hard to tell what Darren was thinking at that moment, as he was looking at me with a very neutral expression.

‘I said I was getting some sun like he’d suggested and started looking out of the window again. He told me to drop the attitude, so I played dumb and asked what he meant. He just repeated what he’d said before and I told him I didn’t think his explanation was very good. I could tell he was pissed off too – he looked like he wanted to hit me at one point.’

‘Hmm,’ said Darren as he made some notes.

‘He didn’t of course. But the class were enjoying themselves – I’d brightened up a boring maths lesson. Plus, I’d kind of got back at the teacher for annoying me.’

‘I guess you were in your early teens at this point?’

‘Yeah. He told me he was going to speak to Miss Fairweather when she got back, but that didn’t bother me at all.’

‘She was your regular teacher?’

‘Yeah. And she liked me a lot. She used to tell me that it didn’t matter what I ended up doing in life –whatever it was, I was going to do well. I knew if it came down to my word against the student teacher’s, there was only one way it would go. I don’t know if he said anything to her, but she did ask what I thought of him afterwards and I told her I didn’t understand a lot of what he said. He probably ended up with a bad review.’

‘How did that make you feel, Jason?’

I just shrugged. ‘At the time, I didn’t really think about it. Now it makes me feel a little guilty I suppose. Maybe he ended up chucking teaching altogether.’

‘I doubt that. If he did, he probably wouldn’t have lasted long in the profession anyway. Something like that must be quite trivial compared to other things teachers have to put up with.’

‘You never know,’ I said a little darkly. ‘Small things can end up changing where we end up in life.’

‘How would you feel if it was the case that he gave up teaching?’ he asked.

He didn’t say this in an accusing manner, instead kept his neutral expression.

‘I wouldn’t like to be responsible for something like that,’ I said quickly. ‘Unless I indirectly saved him from ending up in a profession he didn’t want to be in.’

‘You mentioned a couple of times that you enjoyed the attention of your classmates during all this,’ said Darren as he looked through his notes. ‘Do you think that kind of thing is important to you?’

‘People have asked me that before,’ I admitted. ‘Not specifically for that time, but for other things. I don’t think I’ve ever really thought of it as being important to me.’

A short silence followed.

‘Your point about small things having a bigger impact on life. That’s quite a deep thing to say. Do you think you are a reflective person?’

I thought about this for a few seconds. At first, I wanted to say no, but then I started thinking about Boston and sitting on the bench next to the river after I walked out the meeting. I’d thought about lots of things, things that had made me unhappy. It was probably the combination of all of them that made me do what I did.  

‘I suppose I can be reflective sometimes,’ I said, staring at him a little blankly.

‘That’s not a bad thing, Jason,’ he said, probably sensing my uneasiness.

But I just sighed.

‘Sometimes it’s hard when you think about things too much,’ I muttered.

Darren looked at me in silence.

I don’t know why, but I knew at that point I was going to tell him everything.