by Kirsty Eagar
Mitch just stared at her. Jess grimaced, realising he didn’t need all that right before an exam, and he probably didn’t care either. The point about goodbyes is that they usually don’t require saying.
‘Anyways,’ she said. She walked away.
Mitch said her name. She looked back.
‘Just breathe,’ he said.
•
Jess was woken for the second time that Wednesday when someone opened the door so abruptly the change in air pressure hurt her ears. She groaned, burying her head under the pillow, feeling sick in a turned-inside-out kind of way that was due to a cumulative lack of sleep.
‘It’s me, my little flower!’ a female voice trilled. Farren. Accompanied by Passion Pit. She jumped on the bed and started to bounce—higher and higher and higher and higher.
Jess removed the pillow, squinting at her. ‘God—I’m—tired. What—time—is—it?’
Farren stopped jumping, pressing her phone’s screen to kill the music. ‘Just after three. In the afternoon. Do you want to go back to sleep?’
‘I have to get up. I’ve got no choice. Seriously, I can’t believe they jammed my two hardest subjects in one after the other. Fucking fuckers. Maybe I should have a shower. What are you doing here, anyway?’
‘I miss you,’ Farren said, looking around Vanessa Ng’s room as she spoke. Vanessa had family in Brisbane and stayed with them during Swot Vac and exams. Like Jess, she knew that if you wanted to make a high GPA, the first thing to do was get away from your usual festering partners. Jess was using Vanessa’s G-floor room as a base for the exam period. Farren, in turn, was using Jess’s room. If that was working it had to be on the basis of novelty alone, given Farren was only making a twenty-metre shift.
Farren was still in her pyjamas, a scarf wrapped around her head. ‘What’s the G-spot like, anyway?’ she asked.
‘No direct sunlight,’ Jess said. She waved at the CDs on the shelf above the desk. ‘And a lot of P!nk.’
Farren laughed a lot harder than Jess thought was strictly necessary. ‘Pink!’ she gasped. She was probably cracking up: last Jess had checked, she’d resorted to putting lists of cases in plastic sleeves and taping them to the walls of her favoured shower and toilet cubicles. When she recovered, Farren opened the window, turned off the heater, and then returned to the bed—sitting down this time. Getting settled in.
‘No offence, but I came over here for a reason,’ Jess told her.
‘Ooh, I love it when you get all Type A. I just want to tell you a little story.’
Jess put the pillow over her head again. ‘La, la, la, not listening …’
‘Well,’ Farren said. ‘It started when I was studying in your room today, and Leanne came in—’
‘Farren.’ Jess ripped the pillow away. ‘I told you not to let her in there while I was gone. She gets into everything!’
‘—and she was all like, “Ever seen Flash’s vibrator?”’
‘Oh, you are kidding me.’
‘—And I’m like, “Hello! I’m her best friend. I think I’d know if she had one.” And then she opened your third drawer and pulled out the clothes you’d put on top of it, and I was all, “That’s disgusting—”’
‘She gave it to me.’
‘“—who has a pink vibrator? With glitter?” But then, about two hours later, you had a visitor.’ Jess sat up, suddenly tight in the chest. ‘And when I heard the knock, I yelled out, “Come on in, you big stud!” The door opened, and this guy was standing there—’ Jess made a small noise, ‘—and when he saw me, he was all like, “You’re not Jess.” And I was all like, “And you, sir, are no Davey!” Then I gave him a look—like this, see?—that just cut through all the crap. And he said, “Mitchell Crawford, non-practising knight.” And I said, “Farren Ghosh, ferocious best friend.”’
After that, everything was still. Farren stared at Jess, and Jess stared at Farren. Farren drew first, raising her eyebrows.
‘I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you. But how could I have told you that? A knight.’
‘He wasn’t involved.’
‘Still, it’s not very loyal.’
‘I think I can forgive you. And then hold it over you for the rest of your life.’
Jess rubbed her chest. Maybe she was asthmatic. ‘What did he say?’
‘Ooh, wouldn’t you like to—’
‘Farren, I swear to God.’
‘He said that you’d been together a couple of times, but you’d kept it quiet because you didn’t want to hurt me, and also because you’d look like a doofus in front of the whole college. Actually, he didn’t say that last bit, I did. Then he said that he’d been an idiot.’
‘Did he?’ Jess felt lightheaded. She frowned, cleared her throat.
Farren got a bottle of water from the desk, handing it to her. ‘And I said, “Well, what makes you so sure she’ll want to see you, then?” And he told me about this morning, and he said he’d wanted to check you’d gone okay in your exam. And I was like, “Wow, I’m so moved.” Then he said—and I’ll quote this bit, because it was embarrassingly over the top—“All right, I wanted to tell her that when she said it was goodbye this morning I thought I was going to fucking die.”’
‘Oh,’ Jess said, with difficulty.
‘I know.’ Farren bounced up and down a couple of times, her brown eyes very bright. Then she wrinkled her nose. ‘Of course, I had to explain that you’ve quarantined yourself, because despite all appearances you’re actually a driven, high-achieving type of person, and that you have your econometrics exam tomorrow, and you’re really stressed about it.’
‘Oh,’ Jess said again, sounding deflated.
‘I told him I could take him to you, if that’s what he wanted, but personally I wasn’t in favour of it. He said I was probably right, he shouldn’t disturb you. And then I said—and I’ll quote this bit, too, because it was kind of cool—“But that doesn’t mean you can’t disturb her some other time. Arise, Sir Mitchell of Knights, you have my blessing to pass through the corridors of this college unharmed.”’
‘You did not.’
‘Well. That was the gist.’
When Farren said nothing more, Jess prompted, ‘And that was that?’
‘Actually, no. He did say one more thing. He said he was sorry about the way I’d been treated. I thought that was quite good.’
Jess nodded slowly. ‘That is good.’ She took a deep breath, trying to release her constricted chest. ‘God, how am I going to get my head together now? I almost wish you’d waited until after my exam to tell me that story.’
‘I tried, but then … you know … no impulse control.’
Something occurred to Jess and she froze. ‘That’s two stories.’ She eyed her friend suspiciously, her voice sharpening: ‘Tell me that was two stories.’
‘What? Oh! No, I just forgot the best bit. Because what Leanne and I did was get your vibrator—with tissues, of course, to protect our hands—and we put it on the shelf above your desk, jutting up in all its glory, an eight-point-five-inch rocket ship, so that when you came back you’d see it straightaway, and you’d get embarrassed, or really paranoid about who’d been using it.’
‘Please tell me you’re joking.’
‘I just forgot it was there! He was too polite to mention it. I mean the whole conversation was meet-the-parents serious. He might have thought it was mine.’
Jess stared at Farren, open-mouthed. Farren made a what? face. And then Jess lost it, laughing so hard she would have peed herself if she hadn’t been dangerously dehydrated—wukka-wukka-wukka. Farren joined in.
‘You all right?’ Farren asked when they’d wheezed to a halt.
CHAPTER 33
BUSY EARNIN’
‘What have you got in the way of hours next week?’ Georgie asked Jess, sliding a full rack of dirty glasses onto the bench.
Jess started loading the glasses into the fresh tray she’d set up over the sink, wiping rims to remove lipstick stai
ns, tipping out dregs. ‘All the performance nights, and the double shift on Wednesday and Saturday. I told Vivian I wanted to pack the work in until uni starts again. How about you?’
‘She’s only given me my usual,’ Georgie pouted, tapping the stainless steel bench with her long plum nails. ‘The dragon.’ Georgie was studying drama. Not that it showed, much.
Jess, used to her performances, smothered a grin. ‘Did you tell her you wanted more work than that?’
‘She knows, Jess. I’ve told her before.’ Georgie’s fingernails reached a crescendo and stopped abruptly. She applied another layer of dark-plum lipstick using a knife as a mirror. Georgie always seemed to have a full make-up kit in the front pocket of her apron, in addition to the waiter’s friend and pens carried by everybody else. With her baroque eyelashes and frizzy auburn hair, her theatricality carried over to work; dressed in her black and whites, she was more Rocky Horror than Rocky Horror, the current show at QPAC.
‘Hey, did you do the terrace?’ Jess asked.
‘She never listens, even though I’ve said it a million times,’ Georgie drawled. ‘I can always be relied on to fill extra shifts—’
‘But, sadly, not always to work,’ a clipped female voice commented, and Georgie and Jess both jumped. Vivian, their boss, appeared at the marble counter, impeccably groomed as always, in a suit jacket and skirt, her silver hair shining. ‘Nearly done? Good. You can sign off when you come down. Don’t forget to bring the rubbish.’ With that, she was gone.
The two girls collapsed in silent giggles. Then Jess said, in an unnecessarily loud voice for Vivian’s benefit, in case she was still in range, ‘Would you mind doing the terrace, Georgie?’
‘Make me, you big suck.’ Georgie held out her fists. ‘It’s freezing out there.’
‘Fine.’ Jess held her fists out, too. ‘One … two … three!’
Georgie, ever slippery, subverted the rock-paper-scissors paradigm and fingered a W, telling Jess, ‘Whatever.’
But Jess, on a lucky streak that night, trumped her with the double bird.
Georgie rolled her eyes, grabbed a tray and flounced off. Jess threw a wet cloth after her, hitting her in the back. ‘Wipe down the tables, too.’
‘Pushy fucking Aries.’ In Georgie’s catalogue of astrological transgressions, being an Aries was second only to being a Taurus.
Jess finished the tray of glasses and slid them into the dishwasher, then sprayed the bar top and wiped it down, staring out at the city and the river, the freeway lights, haloed by the cold. She loved working at the Performing Arts Centre for the view alone. And for the smells: the heady mix of the patrons’ perfumes and aftershaves, ground coffee, the sweet-sour of spilled alcohol. Even the marble seemed to have a smell, or if it wasn’t that, it was the air of the large, open architectural space.
By the time Georgie returned, her tray filled with the usual assortment of terrace crime scenes—cigarettes drowned in the dregs of coffee; cigarettes snuffed in cake—Jess had done everything else.
‘Okay, we do this, and then we do the thing,’ Georgie said.
‘What if Viv comes back?’
‘She’s already busted us. What would she come back for?’
‘What if the usher comes out again?’
‘Fuck the usher. He shushes me one more time? I scream.’
Jess scraped food and rubbish into the bin, making faces, wiped rims and restacked the lot. Georgie played on her phone. Team work.
‘Done?’ Georgie placed a tumbler on the marble counter and positioned her phone against it carefully. ‘Our time, okay?’ she said to Jess, who nodded, an intense look in her eyes. With that, Georgie pressed the screen, and Jungle started playing.
She took her position beside Jess, and the two girls watched the screen closely, arms by their sides, bouncing on the balls of their feet to the music.
‘It’s good how there’s the intro bit,’ Jess said. ‘So you can get prepared, you know?’
‘Quite excited, actually,’ Georgie murmured. ‘I think we’re getting better.’
At thirty-four seconds, the dancers on screen came to life, sliding to the side. Jess and Georgie slid with them. They kept up through the side-steps, the crossover behind, the forward heel taps—one side and then the other—the little jump across … But slowly they began to lag. If the film clip was the actual show, they were the live telecast. Knee tucks, attitudinal nod … it was all starting to run away from them.
‘Push through, okay,’ Jess urged. ‘If we make it to the body wobble bit, we can catch them.’
‘Focus on yourself,’ Georgie snapped. ‘Not giving in here.’ But in contrast to her words, she slowed. And then stopped.
Jess kept going. ‘Don’t worry about it. Just make the jump. Hands on hips, Georgie. Come on!’
Georgie still didn’t move, and Jess glanced up.
Mitch was standing near the head of the stairs. Jess stopped dancing, and felt like she was falling instead—a rapid, wind-rushed, out-of-control feeling that wasn’t entirely pleasant. He looked good: his hair freshly trimmed, his usual jeans and Timberlands teamed with a black denim jacket that seemed to accentuate the width of his shoulders. He also looked nervous, not seeming to know what to do with his arms: crossing them; letting them fall by his sides; rubbing at his elbow.
But then Georgie got it together, and said, in a regal and well-projected voice, ‘Bar’s closed, I’m afraid. Unless you were here for the performance?’
At which point, Mitch actually looked like he was about to be shot. Jess could only see his face, nothing else around them—the sheen of sweat on his forehead; that little crease—but it took her a moment to connect with his eyes. When she did, he opened his mouth and his jaw moved, but no sound came out.
‘He looks like a Leo,’ Georgie said. ‘A malfunctioning one.’
‘Might be,’ Jess said, her eyes still locked with Mitch’s.
‘Challenge you for him?’ Georgie asked, holding out her fists.
‘Not this time,’ Jess told her.
Mitch made a sound like a car that wouldn’t start, and then managed, ‘I’m here to give Jess a lift home. If that’s what she wants.’
‘Let me check for you,’ Georgie told him. ‘Jess?’
Jess nodded.
‘Careful, kids,’ Georgie purred. ‘That’s how something starts.’
CHAPTER 34
MY CAR
‘So you just bought it?’ Jess said.
‘Yeah.’ Mitch sounded puzzled. ‘I’d borrowed Mum’s car to go to town and do some stuff, and I thought, Fuck it, I need my own car. Getting to games has been a pain in the arse. And then I remembered I had that money from working last year. So I went into the dealership and picked this.’
‘This’ was a white Suburu Impreza. A couple of years old, although it still smelled new.
‘You like it?’ he asked.
‘I’m just glad it’s not a Holden, because we’re Ford people. If it was a Holden, I couldn’t be seen with you in case Dad found out.’ Jess coughed. ‘Sorry, I’m just talking crap. I like it.’ Her palm was itching for her Zippo, but finding it in her bag would have involved a bit of rummaging, and she wasn’t up to rummaging. Instead she exhaled—quietly, so Mitch wouldn’t hear.
They pulled up at a set of lights, both of them staring straight ahead, and Jess started to feel like they were trapped in a jar. So far the trip had featured more hesitation than conversation. For the first time ever they seemed to be having difficulty finding things to say to each other. It was awful.
Mitch turned on the radio. Tear Council blared out, and he hastily turned it down. The lights changed and they moved off. Thank God.
Jess asked, ‘So how did you know what time I finished?’
‘I rang and put myself at the mercy of Vivian.’
‘That would have hurt. But how did you even know I was in Brisbane, not home?’
‘Farren. She said you were going home for a week, but you’d be working for the r
est of the break.’
‘Did she? That’s interesting. She did not mention that.’ Jess felt a sharp burst of love for Farren, which was then wiped out by a wave of worry that it all might have been in vain. They couldn’t talk to each other. What the fuck was that?
‘Yeah, I paid you a visit after that exam. Didn’t she tell you?’ Jess didn’t answer, overcome by another coughing fit. ‘How’d the exam go, anyway?’
‘Um … better than it should have. I’ll probably still fail, but at least I’ll fail well. Thanks to you.’
‘I told you, no need for thanks.’
They reached Birdwood Terrace, and Jess directed him to her aunt and uncle’s house. Mitch pulled up outside. She thought he might leave the motor running—always advisable in a getaway situation—but he switched it off. They pickled in silence again, and Jess started to feel like the jar was running out of air.
Mitch must have felt the same way, because he cleared his throat, but instead of speaking, he took her hand. They finally looked at each other then, both of them testing their weight on something that felt new and fragile.
‘Is that okay?’ he asked.
Jess nodded, dry mouthed. ‘Are you okay?’ she rasped.
Mitch shook his head. ‘Not without you.’ He took a breath. ‘Jess?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can I have your number?’
•
‘Jessie! You’ve got a call, sweetheart. You left your phone in the kitchen. I only answered because I thought it might be your work calling.’ Jess surfaced slowly, fighting to open her eyes. Eventually, Heather gave up waiting, pressing Jess’s phone into her hand and guiding it to her ear, then leaving.
‘Hello,’ Jess said in a croaky voice, eyes still closed.
‘It’s me.’
‘Hello, you,’ Jess said with a soft sigh, snuggling further beneath her doona. ‘What time is it?’
‘Just after eight.’
Another sigh. ‘You’re calling early.’
‘But that’s good, though, right? I could have just texted, but I’m calling, you know?’ Mitch waited. ‘Jess?’ Jess started to breathe more deeply, her mouth going slack. ‘Are you there? Jess!’