Unquiet by Melanie Hansen

would tell him anything, just that Eliot was alive, until one day, beside himself with grief and frustration, Loren threw a punch at the front door and kicked over a few potted plants.
    Louis Devlin, Eliot’s father, called the fucking cops, and Loren’s own dad showed up, having recognized the address when it came from the dispatcher over the police radio. He took a weeping Loren home, bandaging his torn and bloodied knuckles tenderly before letting his scared and brokenhearted son cry in his arms. If nothing else, at least the whole thing brought Loren closer to his parents.
    He cleared his throat and said huskily, “But my therapist said it sounded to her like bipolar disorder.”
    Rebecca nodded. “Yes, Bipolar Disorder Type 1. It used to be called manic depression. Do you know what that is?”
    Loren clenched his teeth; goddammit, he wasn’t a fucking child. Of course he knew what that was, even if he wasn’t an expert. Hell, he’d arrested people before who were in the grip of a severe manic episode and were out of control.
    All he said was “Yes. I know what that is.”
    “Eliot is also rapid cycling, which can be much more difficult to treat. His moods shift very fast, and it’s hard to get his brain chemistry stabilized before it’s shifting again.”
    “But it’s going on ten years, Dr.—Rebecca,” Loren said in a quiet voice. “I’ve seen his arrest record. His last arrest was just four months ago. Why isn’t he any better after all this time?”
    “He’s been better, Loren,” she said, defensiveness dripping from her tone. “He’s had periods of remission, but they don’t last because he won’t stay compliant, and he won’t quit drinking. I can’t hold him down and force his pills into his mouth, or stop him from finding alcohol somewhere.”
    Loren had plenty to say about that, but he could tell Rebecca was getting ready to shut down and maybe end the conversation, so he switched tactics.
    “Tell me about what happened the night he tried to kill himself.” He saw her lips tighten. “Please, Rebecca. I was his best friend for twelve years, and I was completely pushed aside with no explanation, much less given a chance to come to terms with what happened.” She still didn’t answer, and Loren whispered, “I cared about him, Rebecca. So much.”
    Her eyes met his, and Loren could see that there was a sheen of tears in them. “You were a very good friend to him, Loren,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you when you tried to articulate your concerns about him. The signs were all there, and as a physician, I should have been more aware of them and more willing to listen. I’m sorry.”
    She took a deep breath. “The day that he—that it—well, both his father and I got a call from the school telling us what had happened with the teacher in the classroom and about his suspension. It was alarming enough to us that we both left work and came home right away. When we got there, we found an Eliot we’d never seen before—belligerent, abusive, profane. He was screaming invective at us, and threw a heavy glass at me. His father slapped him across the face.”
    A few tears tracked down Rebecca’s cheeks, but she wiped them away impatiently.
    “He was sent to his room, and for a while we could hear him shouting and breaking things. Louis wanted to call the police and have him arrested, thinking he needed some kind of wake-up call. I pleaded with him to wait, to give Eliot a chance to calm down, and then maybe we could talk to him. Then I heard a—a thump that didn’t sound right. It wasn’t him throwing something, or stomping, it sounded like what it was, a body hitting the floor.”
    She sobbed, and Loren didn’t think, he just stood up and went to kneel next to Rebecca’s chair, covering her clenched hands with both of his, trying to comfort. She turned her palms up and gripped his fingers hard.
    “I ran upstairs, and when I opened the door to his