She paused for a long time. ‘She tried a few different things before one stuck, you know?’

I didn’t, but I nodded.

Lina pulled an empty backpack from next to my bedside table, shook off the dust.

‘But it did help. Therapy too. I don’t know.’ She opened it up on the dry end of the bed. ‘Lots of things. I think that’s the trick. No one single thing.’

I liked the sound of her voice. Calm. Wise. She picked up a basket of clothes I didn’t remember washing, held up a pair of jeans and folded them.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Packing.’ Put the jeans in the backpack, reached for a t-shirt. ‘I talk about it with my psych a lot. What the trick is. Whether there is one. I don’t think there is.’

‘Wait. Where am I going? And when do you see a psych?’

‘Caitlin.’ Lina stopped, a jumper rolled around her forearms. ‘My dad’s a fuckwit, and my mum tried to kill herself, and my best friend and I found her. And now my best friend keeps having breakdowns, and it feels like it’s my fault and I don’t know what to do.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘I know.’ Her mouth twisted, tightened for a moment. ‘But it makes me so angry that sometimes I just—’ She finished folding the jumper, put it in the bag a little too forcefully. ‘Of course I see a psych.’ She sighed. ‘I’m okay,’ she added, too fast, before stopping, shaking her head. ‘Or, no. I’m not.’ She studied her hands, stretchedout her fingers. ‘I’m not okay with it at all. It sucks. It’s not fair. But it’s not like I can tell you how horrible it is to watch you come apart like this. It’s not like I can just say, Hey, Mum, remember that time you decided you’d rather be dead than keep being my mum? Well, it sucked, and I hated you for it for a long time. I can tell my dad I hate him but it’s not like he even cares, so there’s no point. And the two of you …’

I bit my lip. It tasted like guilt, like sadness. Stale and old. ‘I’m sorry, Leen.’

She sighed, went back to the washing basket, grabbed a fistful of underpants and packed them. ‘At least Matt’s normal,’ she said, filling in the silence. Always filling in the silence. ‘He’s the most mentally well person I’ve ever met. I asked him once if he ever stayed up late worrying about things and he looked confused by the question. I think maybe that’s why I’m marrying him.’ Pulled out another pair of jeans, folded them. ‘Oh, and you’re coming to my place.’

She gave me a hard look, then went back to the clothes.