His roommate made a low noise and dropped his head into his hands. “Just stuff.”
“Yeah.” Matt went and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I just went to a canceled class after walking away from a riot in the cafeteria, then decided to finally give up on my college education and worry about getting home instead. I know about stuff.”
Trent laughed. “Yeah, education. We won’t be able to wear our little square hat and gown and get a rolled up piece of paper anymore. Too bad.”
Matt frowned. He actually cared a lot about education, which was why he was here. But he really wasn’t in the mood to argue, especially not with the roommate he barely even saw.
So he kept silent, and eventually Trent began talking. “I visit a psychiatrist, you know? I was going to the university services and talking to one of their psychologists, but he thought I needed more than just counseling.”
“Okay.” Matt didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t surprised, not with the way Trent acted, but he hadn’t expected it.
“So for the last year he’s had me on antidepressants for generalized anxiety disorder. I don’t know if it’s been helping, I guess. But with prices really getting out of control in the last six months I told him I couldn’t afford the prescription, that maybe it was an expense I could do without. A few months ago I tried going off it.”
Matt nodded. That seemed reasonable, he supposed. The time to figure out if you can do without something is when it’s hard to get.
Trent made another low noise, almost a moan, and clenched his hands into fists at the sides of his head, gripping clumps of hair. “It was bad. I felt like, I don’t know, I don’t really want to talk about it. But after about a week off the drugs I was so messed up I tried to kill myself.”
“I had no idea.” Matt clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed about his response. But what did you say to something like that? “I’m sorry, man.”
His roommate shook his head slowly from side to side, and kept it up as he started talking again. “My psychiatrist told me I should get back on the meds. He dropped my dosage down to more affordable levels, but it was enough. Things got a bit better.”
“Well that’s good.”
Fiercer head shaking. “No it’s not! As soon as I heard that the trucks wouldn’t be bringing in shipments, not even of necessities, I called and asked my psychiatrist about my medication. He said he wasn’t sure whether or not pharmaceuticals were going to be shipped in, but that local distributers were withholding SSRIs and antipsychotics for treatment of the criminally disordered and those who were a danger to themselves or others.”
Matt frowned. “But that’s you, isn’t it?” As soon as he said it he was afraid Trent would be offended. “I mean sorry, that’s a messed up thing to say, but aren’t you on some suicide watch list or something?”
His roommate shook his head with another low moan. “I never told him about it. I just said it was really bad without the medication and I couldn’t handle it anymore. I figured maybe I was just being overdramatic or something.”
A short silence settled and Matt shifted on the couch, unsure what to say. He was glad Trent was turned away from him so his roommate couldn’t see how uncomfortable he was. “Can’t you go to another doctor? Or maybe tell your psychiatrist how serious it is?”
Trent shook his head again. “I’m afraid he won’t give me any even if I tell him, but he’ll think I’m unstable and have me committed or something. It’s not really that bad. It isn’t.”
It sounded pretty bad to Matt, but he couldn’t say that. “Well what if you cut your doses down even more? Just took it when it got really really bad?”
A shrug. “I think that’s what I’m going to have to do. But it’s not going to be good. It’s going to be an awful few weeks until gas starts flowing again. And not just for me. Did you know Utah ranks highest for percentage of people with mental disorders in the US?”
Matt hadn’t known that, and he wasn’t sure how much he liked hearing it. Things were already looking bad only a week after the attack. Add in the highest percentage of people with mental disorders in the country, all of them off their meds, and what did that equal? Heading down to Aspen Hill was looking more and more attractive, and the sooner the better.
Trent abruptly stood up. “You think I’m a nutjob, don’t you?”
He stood up too. “Hey no, no man. Sounds like it’s the meds that’re causing your problems, that’s all.” He didn’t know how convincing he sounded. This was his first time really seeing mental problems firsthand, and even though he felt bad for the guy and sympathized with his problem he also felt a bit uncomfortable.
Trent glared at him for a second then turned and stalked to his room, closing the door quietly behind him. For some reason that made it seem all the more odd to Matt, who’d been expecting a slam.
Now seemed like a great time to get out of the apartment and go shopping, but as he left the dorms and campus grounds behind he couldn’t help but wonder about other medical problems. Mental issues were certainly serious, but what about people who required insulin or dialysis or chemo or other critical treatments? What about people waiting for transplants? For now it would just be missing their meds, but once the power went out would the government have enough fuel to power whatever backup generators hospitals needed to keep running?
It wasn’t just starvation or violence, the death toll from those reliant on modern medicine was going to be devastating as well.
Those thoughts put Matt in a bleak mood as he walked the distance to the store, and he felt a sudden urge to call his parents. He pulled out his phone and dialed his mom’s number, who answered within moments of the first ring. “Honey, is everything all right?” she demanded in a frantic voice.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. She’d called at least three times a day during the last week, usually in response to some news story she’d seen about violence erupting in a nearby city. “Nothing like that, Mom. I just wanted to call ahead and let you know I’m coming home.”
“Thank God,” she said. “What with Trev having left a week ago and still not here I’ve been extra worried about—”
“Hold on,” Matt interrupted. “Trev isn’t there yet? He left the morning after the attack!”
“Oh I know, it’s a terrible story. Apparently he ran out of gas less than a third of the way home and had to walk, but then he injured his leg and that slowed him way down. Last I heard from Lewis his phone had died but he was going to take it slow to avoid any more accidents. It’s amazing how such a small thing can become so serious, isn’t it?”
Matt was getting more and more experience with small things becoming serious. “Yeah. I hope he makes it safely. But anyway I just want to do a few things up here and then I’ll be heading down. I’ll let you know when I’m almost there.”
“Okay honey. I’ll get your bedsheets cleaned and have a hot meal waiting for you.” His mom paused, then continued in a hushed voice. “I’ve had word from Mayor Anderson’s office that our area’s power plant is running critically low on fuel. Even with all the City Council announcements about cutting down to strictly necessary appliances and only using lights at night, and to add to that Officer Turner’s warnings about fines for disobeying the new policies, people are still not reducing their consumption. I just wanted to let you know in case the house is dark when you arrive, so you won’t be worried.”
That news did worry Matt, although not for the reasons she thought. It seemed like Aspen Hill wasn’t immune to all this trouble either, which meant going home wouldn’t be some magical cure to all his problems until the government solved this disaster. Intellectually he’d known the reality of things, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear.