The next morning Gab went and knocked on Freya’s bedroom door.

“I’ll go to the doctor,” she said quietly, and that was all. She didn’t say why and she hid her anger exceptionally well, which perhaps was part of the reason it was so frighteningly strong within her. She walked off again to give River his breakfast, because he had started on solid foods now and loved his mashed banana.

And Freya felt relieved because she didn’t know where all this was heading, and it felt like more than she could manage or help with. After exams had finished, she had sensed Gab’s ongoing frustration in the way she moved, in how she slammed the fridge shut, in the sharp edge that snuck into her tone. She noticed how quickly Gab became deflated when things became difficult, how sensitive she was, and how quick to read River’s baby responses as her own failure. It wasn’t like that all the time; there were laughs and fun too. There was joy at having made it through the first semester of uni with River by her side; but Freya had noticed a distinct turbulence and figured that the more points of stability that Gab could connect with, the better.

***

Gab visited a doctor near their home this time, instead of visiting Saanvi. She and Saanvi had decided after discussion that it was easiest this way; Gab could simply relate to Saanvi as Freya’s Mum now, rather than as doctor. Gab was nervous going to a new clinic, but much less frightened than the first time the year before. Nine months of appointments, friendly midwives, and a positive experience in the maternity ward had begun to lessen her fear.

She didn’t tell the doctor too much, but it was enough for the doctor to see that extra support for this young, single mother with a six-month-old infant could only be a good thing. The doctor suggested medication to help Gab manage her anxiety and stabilise her mood, and then wrote up a care plan for her to see a psychologist—who, the doctor assured her, would not mind if she took River along.

The medication was Gab’s secret, another source of shame—because of course, she was reminding herself of her mother. So she didn’t tell Freya—until the side effects felt so awful after the first few days that she begged her friend to take River so she could go to bed with a headache and the strangest feeling of muted mental tumult that she had ever experienced.

I’m morphing into my mother, she thought numbly as she lay there hiding under the covers. I can’t do it. I can’t. The thought of getting out of the house, going to talk with someone for an hour while River fussed and wriggled, and that someone being a psychologist … it was too much.