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“Please don’t science me. I’m not in the mood.” She waved a dismissive hand that came to rest on her swollen belly. “I’ve seen the midwife today. It’s all fine.”
Frankie grabbed a serving spoon and dispatched the chili/curry in messy scoops. Miri watched me with the shifty look she always wore when she wanted to say something that I wasn’t going to like.
Frankie cleared her throat dramatically and threw her hands up. “We wanted to wait for Elliot, but there isn’t going to be a better time than this. We’re staging an intervention.”
Miri flinched and pulled Frankie to the kitchen table. “At least sit down first, and no, we’re not doing anything that dramatic. It’s not an intervention. It’s a… discussion. We wanted to talk to you, about a delicate issue—”
“You’re driving me mad, Reece.” Frankie lowered herself to sit and raked both hands through her dark pixie hair. “I’m walking on eggshells. I can’t even finish a cup of tea before you’ve picked the mug up and washed it.”
My shoulders tensed, but I kept my tone even. “I’m sorry you feel like that, Frankie. I like things to be neat.”
Miri raised her hand in the air. “It’s not just Frankie. You’re also driving me mad.”
I took a calming breath. It wasn’t my fault nobody in this house picked up after themselves.
“And me.” My younger brother, Elliot, glided to the table and took a seat.
Miri surveyed the food on the table with a grimace, then pushed her seat back. “We know you like things to be done… in a certain way, but you’re even more uptight than usual.” Miri’s voice softened. “You look tired. We’re worried about you. Is something going on?”
My jaw clenched. I was tired. Shattered, actually. These past months, a heavy weight had pressed my shoulders. Every morning, I woke up far too early and still exhausted. It had been a big adjustment: Mum’s stroke, breaking up with Megan, moving back home, selling the old house. Work at the hospital, covering for absent colleagues, had become unmanageable. I had patients back to back. No time for lunch. No breaks.
The constant guilt and worry about Mum was suffocating me. The one night I wasn’t here, she’d collapsed. She’d been alone. If Gabe hadn’t broken in and found her, then she probably wouldn’t be here. As a mental health professional, I knew exactly what this was: burnout. I’d ignored it in the hope it might resolve itself. I’d been kidding myself.
Miri covered my hand with hers, her skin cool on mine. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
“Isn’t that my line?”
“You don’t have the monopoly on listening.”
My siblings stared back at me in waiting silence. An intervention? This was intense even for this lot. If it had got to the point that they felt the need for something so dramatic, then I owed them honesty. I talked to people about mental health for a living, but even I could admit I preferred not to burden my family with my problems. I sighed and cleared my throat. “I should have been here. I keep thinking about how long Mum was lying on that floor on her own.”
Instead, I’d been wasting my time fighting to patch things up with Megan, and I’d let my whole family down.
Frankie watched me with shrewd eyes. “This is basic self-care, Reece. You’re being unfair to yourself. You know all this. You can’t pour from an empty cup. Isn’t that what you tell your patients?”
Miri took a sip of water. “When did you last take time off? Can’t you take a sabbatical? Add some more letters to that alphabet soup after your name?”
I turned my face to the window. If I took a break, I’d return to more work. And it wouldn’t be fair to my patients. They relied on me. Still, Frankie was right. I’d been emptying my cup for so long, there wasn’t anything left to pour. I needed a break, whether I wanted to admit it or not.
I arranged my silverware in a neat line. “I need to do something. I’ll be bored out of my brain.”
Gabe chirped up from across the table. “What about a change? That’s as good as a rest.”
“A new hospital will be all the same problems in a different place.”
“Then why not do something different with your skills? We could use you at the football club,” Gabe said.
For a moment I was too startled by the suggestion to reply.
“You want me to play football?”
“You? Play football?” Gabe chuckled darkly. “Not as a player, as a psychologist. The girls have been stressed lately. The next couple of games will decide whether we earn promotion. You could do some coaching. Get them into the right mindset. All the top teams have sports psychologists. I’ve been thinking about bringing someone in for a while.”
Miri shot Gabe an impressed glance. “That’s actually a great idea.”
Gabe raised a smug eyebrow and squeezed her hand. “I’m not just a pretty face, my love.”
Miri smiled and returned her attention to me. “You should think about it. Mindset is everything in football at this level. You have skills we can put to use. It won’t be the same pressure as the hospital. You might enjoy it.”
