by Penny Tangey
After everyone is served, we get some food for ourselves. Tiffany tells us to sit with people who might be lonely. I’m surprised to see that Pam is by herself in the corner. I approach her table.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘Hello.’
‘Is it okay if I sit here?’
Pam waves her hand at the chair.
‘How are you?’ I ask.
She sighs, but says nothing. I don’t want to ask her what’s wrong in case she tells me something I can’t handle.
I start eating. ‘These potatoes are good,’ I say. Actually, they’re cold and a bit slimy but I have to say something.
Pam sighs again. ‘I don’t mean to be unappreciative,’ she says. ‘It’s just that I thought I’d be out of here by now.’ She pushes back her chair, which makes a squeaking noise on the linoleum. She takes her plate to the clearing trolley. I’m left sitting in the corner by myself. I look across the room. Emily is having an animated conversation with Hilda, and Brad is playing a game of dominoes. They’re both so good at fitting in and talking to people.
Tiffany comes over with a plate of food, ‘Hi there,’ she says and sits in the chair next to me. I guess she’s following her own instructions.
When I step out of the train station the Washington Monument looms in front of me, a massive cream-coloured stick pointing to the sky. By law, buildings in DC have to be shorter than the monument, so you can see it from lots of places in DC, which is usually fine, but today looking at it makes me feel sick.
Mum’s been saying for ages that she wants to go to the viewing deck in the monument so I booked two tickets as a surprise. But Mum couldn’t come because she had to work. Apparently there’s no such thing as Boxing Day in America.
When I told Mum I’d got the tickets she said, ‘Don’t worry, Clara, Tony said he’d take me next week – you can come with us.’
So I’m going on my own today.
Now that I’m standing underneath the monument I’m not sure. It’s quite windy. I imagine the big stack of white marble toppling over and crashing into the fountain like a stack of Lego. What is it with men and big sticks? Why can’t they just make a nice garden?
I pick up my ticket from the booth and stand in the queue near the monument. I think I’m the only one here on my own. The couple in front of me are wearing matching black puffy jackets and holding hands. The girl rests her head on his shoulder.
I wish Campbell was here instead of in Baltimore with Eric.
The queue starts to move forward and I shuffle closer to the monument. I look up and the monument appears to sway. Maybe it’s going to fall? Then I realise that the clouds passing behind are creating an optical illusion.
There’s a metal detector at the entrance and my bag has to be X-rayed, which I find reassuring. At least everyone’s been checked properly.
We wait again in the narrow corridor for the lift. The puffy jacket couple sit on a bench next to me and she puts her head in his lap. This is too much – she’s not a four-year-old.
Once we’re finally in the lift it takes a long time to get to the top. It’s crowded and the woman next to me has jammed her handbag into my side.
When we reach the top the viewing deck is crowded. People cluster around the windows and I can’t see outside at all. I don’t like heights, and I don’t like crowded places. Why did I come here?
I wait behind a group at one of the windows. To distract myself, I think about Campbell. I imagine he is standing behind me, resting his hand on my shoulder. At last the people at the window move away and I can see out. The Reflecting Pool stretches out in front of me to the Lincoln Memorial with the Potomac River behind it. I stare out and take a few deep breaths.
A man says, ‘Excuse me,’ and steps up to the window holding a camera with an enormous lens. His elbow is in my face so I back away from the window and move around to wait my turn at the next one.
On the way down the lights in the glass lift are turned off and we can see the memorial stones in the monument slipping past us. This gives me something to concentrate on. I start to feel better as we rush back down to the safety of the earth.
Campbell was due home from Baltimore yesterday but he hasn’t contacted me. The waiting is driving me insane.
I’m lying on the couch staring at my phone, rereading the text message I’ve written to him. I don’t know if I should send it. Yingmei knows all the rules about how often you’re allowed to contact guys. She would say that I should wait for Campbell to call. But yesterday was hell, hanging out for a call or text message that never came.
I spent a lot of time on the message I’ve written him, trying to make it clear that I want to see him again without sounding too serious.
As soon as I press send I know it was the right thing to do. I needed to take matters into my own hands, to liberate myself from waiting. Over the last week, I’ve thought about it a lot. I know what I want to do.
I turn the television on, placing the phone on the arm of the couch. Mum’s out with Tony again, so I’m alone again tonight. I’m sick of television.
My phone beeps a few minutes later with a reply from Campbell, asking me if I want to get together tonight. It’s after 9 pm and I don’t want to go out on my own.
I send another message inviting him here.
I buzz Campbell into the building. I’ve spent the last half-hour tidying up and hiding embarrassing things like Mum’s bras drying near the heater and her terrible CDs.
I rearrange magazines on the coffee table and wipe the bench again.
The knock on the apartment door is louder than I expected and I jump.
‘Hello,’ says Campbell when I open the door.
‘Hello.’ The word catches in my throat. He looks so lovely. I hug him and then I kiss him. I’ve never been like this before; I’ve always waited for him to make the first move. But I can’t help it now, I missed him so much.
‘Wow, I wasn’t expecting that,’ he says. He steps inside. ‘It’s so warm in here.’
‘Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee, beer, or I think we have some wine?’
‘Tea would be great.’
I put the kettle on. Campbell sits on the couch. When the tea’s ready, I bring it over and sit next to him.
‘How was Baltimore?’ I ask.
‘Amazing,’ he says.
Campbell tells me about his trip. He and Eric stayed with some fabulous anarchists and got lots of work done. I feel a pang of jealousy. I try to suppress it and be happy for him.
We’ve almost finished our tea. The closer I get to the bottom of the cup the more nervous I get. I’ve already decided what I want to do, but I don’t know how to tell Campbell.
‘You must be tired,’ I say.
‘Yeah, maybe I should get going.’
‘No!’ That wasn’t what I meant. I have no idea how to ask him to come to my bedroom. How to let him know that it won’t be like last time.
I look at my cup. ‘I mean, you can stay here if you like,’ I say.
‘You mean . . . ?’ he says, smiling.
‘Yes.’
We walk to my room. We sit on the bed and kiss. This is fine, I’ve done this before.
‘Do you want to get into bed?’ he asks.
‘I guess so,’ I say. I go to get under the covers.
‘Maybe we should take off some clothes first?’ says Campbell.
He takes off his shoes and then his shirt and pants.
I pull my jumper over my head and then start to take off my jeans. I pull them down and over my feet awkwardly as Campbell watches. I have to hop a bit to pull them off. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘That wasn’t very sexy.’
‘On the contrary,’ he says and grabs my hand to pull me onto the bed.
Under the covers we kiss each
other for a long time. He runs his hands down my legs and across my back. I try my hardest to relax and I manage not to flinch. He slides his hands under my shirt and unclasps my bra. I wriggle out of my T-shirt and he slides down to kiss my breasts.
‘Do you want to?’ he asks.
‘Yes,’ I say. I do want to. I want to get it over and done with and out of the way.
I should say something about the condoms now, but I don’t know the right words.
‘Umm, my mum gave me . . .’ I say and then trail off. Anything would have been better than that. But Campbell understands what I mean.
‘It’s okay,’ he says. He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and finds his wallet. He pulls out a condom. I avert my eyes as he puts it on. Then I realise I’m being stupid – as if modesty is an issue now.
‘How do you feel?’ he asks.
‘A bit nervous.’
‘Are you sure you want to?’
‘Yes.’ I try to sound resolute. Even though I’m nervous, I do want to. I missed him so much when he was away. I thought about this so often.
‘Do you want me to be on top?’
‘I guess so.’
There’s more fumbling around than I expected and it is uncomfortable on the borderline of hurting. He is heavy on top of me.
‘Is this okay?’ I ask.
‘Sure, is it okay for you?’
‘I guess so.’
‘We can stop?’
‘No, it’s alright.’ I can handle it for a bit longer.
Afterwards, we lie in bed and Campbell has his head on my shoulder, just like I have imagined so many times. My relief makes me deliriously happy. I’ve done it and it was fine.
Campbell asks, ‘So do you have a boyfriend back in Australia?’
I laugh. ‘No!’
‘Why is that a funny question? You should be beating them off with a stick.’
‘Everyone in Australia thinks I’m a boring nerd who studies all the time.’
‘Everyone?’
‘Well, that’s what this one guy said.’ I try to sound detached but I hear my voice quaver alarmingly. ‘Sorry, it’s a boring topic. Let’s talk about something else.’
‘I don’t mind listening.’
I don’t say anything for awhile. I think about Liam. Then I start to talk. I tell Campbell about how I’ve known Liam my entire life. I’d always looked up to him, but two years ago it became something more than that. It was fun at first. As I said to Yingmei, I didn’t actually like Liam but I wanted to meet someone similar to him. He was an ideal and it was fun to talk to Yingmei and Bethany about how cute and smart he was and to measure everyone else against him.
When Liam went to South America I missed him. I sent lots of messages on Facebook and he replied. Sometimes his messages were flirty. I’d show them to Yingmei and Bethany and we all agreed that it was definitely not friendly flirty. They were flirty flirty. And he said he missed me, more than once.
With Liam being away I concentrated on school and getting into law. Yingmei used to tell me sometimes that other boys liked me, but I never believed her, and I was never interested anyway. I had homework, and the promise of Liam coming home.
Then Liam came back but I had to finish exams before anything could happen. The times I saw him, at the Melbourne Cup barbecue and at the election day party, made me more hopeful that he felt the same way about me.
The day it went wrong was the day after my last exam. My Facebook status was: Finally finished exams. No more school ever. Liam wrote a message congratulating me and invited me out for coffee.
Yingmei came to my house that night and we talked about the situation for hours. She said that Liam might never tell me how he felt because he was older, and because he was a family friend.
She said, ‘He’s too ethical, Clara. It’ll never happen. It’s down to you.’
So we decided that I should tell him how I felt.
I met Liam for coffee. We talked for about half an hour. I got more and more nervous until Liam asked me what was wrong. I can’t remember exactly how I said it, it probably didn’t even make sense, I blurted something out and he knew what I meant.
He told me that he was, of course, very flattered but he already had a girlfriend, Lana, from Brazil.
I blurted out, ‘But your Facebook status says single!’
Apparently they weren’t sure if it would work out, so they were keeping it a secret, but she had decided to move to Australia so they could be together.
And that’s where I should have left it. He couldn’t go out with me, because he had a girlfriend. Bad timing, bad luck.
But no, I had to push it. I asked if he’d ever liked me. He said not in that way, but that he did ‘love me like a younger sister’. Then I asked why he didn’t like me.
I can remember exactly what he said: ‘You’re always so wrapped up in schoolwork. As if that’s the most important thing in the world. I like girls who take an interest in the outside world. Like Lana’s work in the health clinics.’
Liam then went on to describe Lana’s noble work in detail. I was in shock and didn’t say anything. I remember staring down at my empty latte glass and I thought how disgusting the dregs of coffee in a cup look with the froth clinging dirtily to the sides of the glass.
When he finally stopped talking about Lana, Liam said, ‘I mean, you want to study law next year, but why? Do you want to be a lawyer, or do you want to show off about how smart you are?’
Campbell is lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand. He shakes his head. ‘The guy’s a moron. If he thinks he’s doing so much for the world by playing party politics he’s delusional.’
‘Liam is a big Obama fan.’
‘What a clown,’ says Campbell.
I laugh, and feel slightly disloyal because I’ve enjoyed hearing Liam criticised.
‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘I’m not sure what I want to do next year. I haven’t even looked at my results. I want to make a decision about what I want to do first.’
‘Makes sense to me,’ says Campbell. ‘Anyway, universities stifle self-action through the rigid requirements of academic discourse. You’ll learn more out in the real world.’
I hear Mum come home about an hour later. I also hear Tony’s voice.
I groan. ‘Gross,’ I say.
‘Will we be able to hear them?’ whispers Campbell.
‘Nah, the bathroom’s good at blocking the sound.’
‘That’s good. I mean, I’m happy for Tony, but I don’t need to hear my boss doing that.’
‘Should be okay.’
I roll over and shut my eyes, enjoying Campbell lying warm and soft in the bed beside me. Campbell says, ‘I don’t understand how someone so brave can be so hung up on little things like the right way to order drinks.’
‘Who?’ I say.
‘You.’
‘But I’m not brave.’
‘Sure you are.’
‘What have I done that’s brave?’
‘Telling Liam how you felt. That’s brave. I’ve never done anything like that.’
‘What, you’ve never told someone you liked them?’
‘It’s not just that. Liam was an old friend and you weren’t sure what he’d say. That’s really brave. I wish I could be more like that.’
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I am brave. I should remember that the next time I’m at the post office.’
Campbell sits up. ‘Now those post office ladies, that’s different. That’s not a time for courage. It’s a time to cover your ass and try to get out of there alive.’
‘You’re scared of the post office ladies too?’
‘Everybody’s scared of the post office ladies! I take down the parcels each week, and I’ve neve
r got used to it. I’ll be in therapy for years.’
When the alarm goes off I don’t think I’ve been to sleep. I tried to lie as still as possible while Campbell slept. I lay awake marvelling at being so close to him and feeling jittery with excitement.
Campbell groans at the sound of the alarm and I quickly turn it off.
Looking at Campbell in the bed I wish I could stay here with him instead of going to the centre. ‘Sorry, I have to go now,’ I whisper.
‘What?’ he says, half sitting up and looking grumpy.
‘I have to serve breakfast at the Women’s Centre. You can stay here if you like.’
‘No, I have to get to work,’ he says.
‘Do you want to have a shower?’ I ask.
‘No, I’m fine.’
This seems less than ideal from a food-preparation hygiene perspective, but I don’t want to lecture him.
In the corridor I almost bump into Tony as he walks out of the bathroom.
‘Good morning, Clara,’ he says in an unreasonably cheerful voice.
‘Morning,’ I mumble, trying to make it sound as close to ‘whatever’ as possible.
When I go back to my room after my shower Campbell is dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on his shoes.
‘Do you want some breakfast?’ I ask.
I’m relieved when he shakes his head. The idea of Campbell, Mum, Tony and I sitting down together for our morning cornflakes is revolting.
Luckily, we don’t run into Mum or Tony as I show Campbell to the door.
I pour myself some cereal feeling happy. I used to worry that I would regret losing my virginity, but I don’t feel like I’ve lost anything at all. I feel closer to Campbell now, and not just because of what we did. I’ve never spoken to anyone like that before.
Serving breakfast in the shelter, I am tired but happy. I feel like I’m glowing with elation but I guess I don’t look like it because as I serve Mary her toast she tells me I look terrible and says I should take better care of myself. She can talk.
Emily asks me, ‘What are your plans for New Year?’
‘I’m going to my friend Campbell’s house,’ I say. I’m not sure if I should call him my boyfriend now. I wish I could ask Yingmei, she would know. There’s probably some kind of ratings and points system you can use to work it out. ‘What about you?’ I ask.