The Head In My Hands

To his surprise, Cerys did not so much as ‘walk’ as she did ‘roll’ in. Her arms pushed the wheels of her chair forward as she and her parents entered the room.

Cerys was a very small, brunette girl with big blue eyes. Certainly not the brightest he’d seen, but oddly observant. Her legs seemed to work, but every movement she made with them, intentional or not, caused a crease form in her brow.

“Welcome, get comfortable wherever.” He instructed softly, before turning to her parents, and gesturing to a couple of ‘guest’ chairs bumped up against the wall by the door. They sit in the chairs, but Marley notices that Mrs Sinclair pulls her chair off of the wall and closer to where Cerys has sat herself.

“You don’t want me to sit on the table?” She asks, her voice lower in pitch than he had imagined. “Usually doctors want me to sit on the table.”

She says it matter of factly, as if she's giving Marley the instruction to give to her.

He raises a brow.

“Do you want to sit on the table? This isn’t a check-up, I’m just discussing things with you and your parents before I give you your medication.” So. He may be a little out of practice. Sue him– this wasn’t a typical clinic anyhoo.

She thinks about it, thin eyebrows crinkling up in thought. “I don’t think so.”

Marley smiles. “Then you don’t have to.” He moved his chair so he's facing her, not quite eye to eye, but a better approach to it.

“Do you have any questions before we start? Any concerns you want to go over before I start asking you questions?”

Cerys crosses her arms. She's inspecting him. In the corner of his eye, Marley can tell that her parents are carefully watching his reactions, interesting.

She looks at him and squints her eyes, before slowly shaking her head ‘no’.

Letting out a breath, he turned to her parents.

He began with the formalities, walking them through the details of Cerys' condition and the treatments she had received so far, essentially a recap of the things he's been told and read thus far. Marley kept his tone measured, discussing potion dosages and effects, and although he could see her father paying close attention, he could tell Cerys' mother was more concerned about how her daughter was holding up emotionally.

He gestured toward Cerys, who was seated comfortably on the examination table, her legs swinging slightly as she waited. "Of course," Marley said gently, "Cerys is the one who knows best how she’s feeling."

Cerys looked up at him, her eyes bright and alert. Marley turned his attention to her, softening his voice. "How have you been feeling lately, Cerys? The potions—are they helping?"

She nodded, gripping the handle of her cane as she spoke. "Yeah, they help, but sometimes... it still hurts," she admitted, her voice small but honest.

Marley smiled at her, his eyes full of understanding. "I know what that's like," he said quietly. "And it’s okay to feel like that. We’ll make sure the potions are working as best they can. And if anything changes, you let me know, alright?"

Mr Sinclair cleared his throat, glancing between Marley and his wife, interrupting as politely as the man thought he could. "I thought this was just a typical pick-up," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. There was a hint of confusion there, and maybe a touch of frustration. “We’ve done these runs a dozen times before.”

Marley nodded, understanding the concern in his tone. "Normally, it would be," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "But Cerys’ care was transferred to me regarding her medication– I’m sure that was included somewhere in your last appointment?”

Mrs Sinclair swallowed. “We were– in a bit of a panic, so we didn’t think–” She cuts herself off.

Marley continues, giving what he could only hope was a reassuring smile.

“That's alright, don't worry. I’m the one who’s been making her potions, and I’m the one who made her most recent batch.” He gestures to the potions on the desk. “So.. We've decided it makes more sense for me to oversee how she’s doing with them." He paused, meeting their eyes to offer that extra layer of confidence. "I know exactly how these potions work and watched every ingredient that went into them. It’s better for her to be under the care of someone familiar with how they affect the body."

Cerys’ mother relaxed slightly, her grip on her bag loosening as she exchanged a glance with her husband. He, too, seemed to ease, his shoulders lowering a fraction as the tension in the room softened. “That makes sense,” her father murmured, though the edge in his voice remained.

Marley continued, his tone gentle. "I’ll be checking in with her regularly. You won’t have to worry about running back and forth as much anymore. And if there’s any change, you’ll be the first to know."

He turned back to Cerys.

She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, her fingers tracing the arm of her wheelchair Mrs Sinclair squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “I just got accepted to a new school– we– we had to move because of my condition.”

He nodded, urging her to continue.

“I– I don’t want to miss anymore school, I feel like I’ve missed so much already, and I miss my friends and–” She's worried, biting at her bottom lip.

Marley soothed, recognising the feeling as it seems to flow from her words into his psyche. “Hey– hey, it's okay– don’t worry too much about all that.” He rested both hands on his knees, giving her his full attention. “If everything goes to plan, you should be able to attend without any issues. We’ve got these potions sorted out yeah? And once you find one that works, we’ll keep you on that to help keep everything in check.”

Cerys looks doubtful, but has calmed down. “Are you sure?”

Marley smiles, leaning forward slightly. “Totally– look, I take potions too, and I’ve taken a lot of the potions I’ve made you. Those very potions are what help me stay on my feet. You’ll get through this.”

Mrs Sinclair sits back down in her seat. When did she get up?

Cerys tilted her head, eyes far calmer now that her initial worry had been acknowledged. “You look fine.” Cerys says, not… unkindly, but with that childlike bluntness. “Why do you need to take potions? You’re a grown-up, shouldn’t you be better?”

Marley chuckled and swallowed back his nerves, leaning back in his chair. “Well…” He chose his words carefully, “Not everything is as simple as it looks– and not everything goes away with time. Sometimes people need a little extra help no matter how old they are, even if they act or look okay.”

He continues on, “That's what the potions are for, to make people who need extra help be able to fit in with the rest of the working world. Potions and medication and therapy help keep things balanced, for me, and they will– eventually– for you.”

Cerys frowned thoughtfully, trying to piece it together, but Marley quickly added, "It’s not something you need to worry about. Everyone’s body works a little differently, and we all need different things to keep working." He offered her a reassuring smile.

She nodded slowly, still curious but accepting his answer, her youthful mind already turning to other questions. Marley was relieved she didn’t push further—there was no need for her to carry the burden of uncertainty that he had carried for so long.

“Now– let me tell you about the potions I’ve got prepared for you.”

He gestures to the potions next to him. “These four are all the same– but with different ingredients. Like I said earlier, some people's bodies need different things, so one of these four may work better than the others. They’re all labelled with proper dosages and times– so please pay attention to that.” He says this part more to her parents than to her, since they would be dealing her doses.

“These next three, I’ve actually taken, and still take myself–”

“Really? Do they help?”

“Yes, they do for me. They can make things much easier. This first one,” He holds up a green vial, “is Relva, the lightest and least specific of the ones I’ve made you. It helps ease aches and stiffness, especially when you overdo it on days when your body feels more sensitive.”

She nods, eyes never leaving his hands. He sets the vial down gently, and lifts another, amber in colour and glittery.

“This one is CalmeX, for me– it helps calm my nerves,” He swishes the liquid inside, Cerys smiles. “It can help with the tightness you feel sometimes. It’s like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket when you’re feeling a little overwhelmed.”

Cerys hummed, clearly processing his words. “Do you have to take them all the time?”

“Not all the time, but I have to be careful,” Marley explained, eyes flickering to her parents. “The potions help, but they don’t solve everything. Sometimes, when I’m having a particularly tough day, I might need an extra dose of something like Noxalene.” He picks up the last vial, a dark navy blue. “This one’s specifically for days when the pain flares up unexpectedly, and needs to be taken with caution. Too much might make you sick.”

She grimaces, “Does it really help then?”

He nods, “They do, in their own way. One way or another, one of these will help you feel better. It's just about finding the right balance.”

Cerys' eyes flickered from Marley's face, to his hands, to her parents, then back to him. “I want to be able to go to school and play with my friends again.”

He smiled warmly, biting down a tightness in his throat. “And you will. I promise.”

Cerys's face lit up with excitement, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten. “So, I can really get better?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Suddenly, he's a child again, sitting in the doctor's office. He shook the thought out of his head and nodded. “Absolutely! And just to make sure everything goes smoothly, we’ll have routine check-ups every couple of months. It’s important to see how the potions are working for you and if we need to make any adjustments.”

Her parents exchanged relieved glances, their tension visibly easing. “That sounds reassuring,” her mother said, a hint of gratitude in her voice.

“And the good news is,” Marley continued, “you can either pick up your potions from a pharmacy nearby or have them delivered right to your home. It’s really convenient, especially on days when you might not be able to go out.”

“What about the cost?” Cerys’s father asked, his brows furrowing slightly.

Marley took a breath, prepared to explain. “The prices can vary depending on the potions and the quantities needed. Generally, we’ll aim to keep things manageable. I’ll work with you to ensure you know what to expect, and we can look into any options for assistance if necessary.”

Cerys’s parents nodded, their relief deepening as Marley spoke. They were grateful to have a plan in place for their daughter’s care, and it felt good to know they had support.

“Thank you, Mr Abbott,” her mother said, her voice steady. “This really means a lot to us.”

Marley smiled back, feeling a warmth in his chest. “Of course! I’m here to help, and I’ll do everything I can to make this process as smooth as possible.”

As Cerys and her parents prepared to leave, the atmosphere in the room felt lighter, their earlier worries seemingly lifted. Cerys beamed, her excitement palpable as she thanked Marley one last time. “I can’t wait to tell my friends I’m starting school!” she chirped, rolling her chair back and forth on its wheels.

Her parents exchanged grateful smiles with Marley, their relief evident in the way they carried themselves. Thank you – Mr Sinclair said, his voice warm.

Marley nodded, a sense of fulfilment swelling within him. He gives a few words of reassurance.

And yet…

As the door clicked shut behind them, Marley felt a familiar tightness build in his throat.