by Kat Colmer
‘I’m sorry. It’s just, when my whole family gets together it can be … you know, stressful.’
The baffled look on Jason’s face stops me from explaining further. He doesn’t understand. Not like Luke.
Stop! I need to stop. Even though the idea of spending more time with Luke is tugging on something buried deep inside, he’s not for me. Tonight made that very clear.
Mum would never accept him as my boyfriend. I could never do that to Luke. He deserves to be with someone who isn’t afraid to take him home to her parents. Someone who has the guts to stand up for his choices. As well as her own.
I shake my head to dislodge the unhelpful thought. My choices are laid out for me. It is what it is. I am who I am, and I’m not Theo. The sooner I accept that, the easier things will be.
I reach for my handbag sitting at my feet and flex my stiff fingers over the cool leather. ‘I think I’m just tired. The stress of waiting for the assignment results, and exams only around the corner…’ I give Jason the warmest smile I can muster. ‘I’ll be back to normal on Monday, I promise.’
Jason scrutinises me for a moment, then the corners of his mouth lift in a subdued version of his angles and planes smile. He leans towards me and I let him. This kiss is longer than our first, better. It’s … nice.
Over his shoulder, the dashboard clock numbers change from 11.04 to 11.05.
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the sudden sting.
Time, I realise, won’t be melting tonight.
Legs functioning purely on muscle memory, I trudge into my parents’ kitchen a short while later. My hope Jason’s kiss would ground me, assure me I was making the right choice, dissolved soon after our lips met. Reading anything into a kiss is stupid, but I needed … something, because the night has scooped me out and left me hollow, and more confused than I’ve ever been before.
‘I like him.’ Mum glances up from the glass of wine she’s pouring herself. ‘Normally, I wouldn’t encourage this kind of … relationship during high school, but in Jason’s case I think we can make an exception. He’s ambitious, focused. He’ll be good for you.’ She gives me a rare smile from her side of the kitchen bench.
I nod. That’s all I can give her. That’s all she wants to see from me anyway.
I want to crawl into bed and escape my reality, even if only for a few sleep-filled hours.
***
Monday morning comes way too soon and brings with it new complications.
‘Hey!’ Sandy’s face lights up with a smile when she finds me at my locker. ‘Happy birthday.’ She gives me a quick hug. ‘Your present is at the boarding house. I wasn’t expecting to see you here today. And you shot out of our room this morning.’
‘Physics assessment. I’ll head over to the uni after second period.’
Sandy nods a silent ‘ah’ and waves to a couple of girls from her Economics class as they pass. When she turns back to me, her expression is cautious. ‘So how was Saturday night?’
I take a breath and pull my physics notes from my bag. ‘Mum tore into Theo as soon as he arrived, so he stormed out of the restaurant before any of the food was served.’
Sandy nods again but doesn’t press for more. Silence fills the air between us for a beat too long and—dammit—her face starts blurring.
‘Oh, MJ.’ Sandy’s soothing voice wraps around me along with her arm.
‘I’m not crying.’ I blink furiously, working hard to turn the lie into truth. A bunch of Year 11s walk past and throw curious glances our way. I blink harder.
‘Sure, you’re not crying,’ Sandy says, giving my back a gentle rub. ‘But I’m listening if you want me to.’
Do I want her to? She knows about the destructive dynamic between my mother and brother, about the effect the simmering tension has on me, and how I’m not one to really talk about the details. It’s too dangerous, talking about the details. It could expose me for the coward I really am. But the only other two people who’d have been willing to provide shoulders for me to cry on are the ones I’m tearing up about. Right now, Sandy is the only option.
Folders and books gripped tightly in my hands, I brave Sandy’s waiting gaze. ‘Theo thinks I should stand up to Mum and tell her I don’t want to study medicine.’
Sandy’s arm drops from my back. ‘But isn’t … I thought medicine was a lifelong dream of yours.’
I bristle at her words but can’t blame her for making the assumption. Not once have I indicated it isn’t my dream. And isn’t that the crux of my problem?
I shut my locker with a dull thud. ‘Not mine. Mum’s. When Theo enrolled in art school all her expectations of med school for him shifted to me. The thing is, Theo knows I don’t want to be a doctor and he’s sick of watching me pretend that I do.’
‘So if not medicine, what do you want to study?’ Brow furrowed, Sandy peers at me. ‘Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. You’re too straight laced to want to do anything remotely unsuitable in your mother’s eyes.’
Too straight-laced? I should be insulted. Strangely, I’m not. Maybe I’m starting to accept the reality; that I am too straight-laced, too gutless, too whatever everyone else wants me to be.
‘I want to be a genetic scientist.’ There, I’ve said it out loud. It’s frightening, and fantastical—and freeing, the desire escaping like a wild animal chained for way too long.
She pulls a face. ‘I was right. Totally straight-laced. But also nothing to be ashamed of, and you’d rock poking around in petri dishes all day.’ A shadow of something brushes across her face. The gingham pattern on the folder she’s holding suddenly has her undivided attention. ‘You should tell her, MJ. It’s exhausting trying to be someone you don’t want to be.’
Like Luke’s, her words hint at personal experience. Curiosity makes me pause, but I don’t ask her to elaborate. I’m not sure I want to hear another reason why I should upend my life because people who only know parts of me think it’s the right thing to do.
Theo knows all of me. A truth I can’t deny.
And Luke wants to know more of me.
A truth I can’t forget, especially as I stare at my friend.
I lean against the cool metal of my locker. My hand shakes as I rub my eyes. Why is this so hard?
‘Hey—’ Sandy nudges my shoulder, ‘—it’s your life, so you do what you need to do, but if Theo thinks you should come clean with your Mum …’ I catch her shrug out of the corner of my eye.
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Nothing worth doing ever is.’ She gives my arm a gentle squeeze as we turn away from the lockers, then bends suddenly before we take the first step.
‘This yours?’ She picks something up off the floor. ‘Looks like a birthday card.’
A birthday card? Oh yeah, a birthday card!
‘Yes, that’s mine.’ My hand shoots out, but she doesn’t hand it over.
‘From Jason?’ Her lips spread in a cocky smile as she turns the card over, looking for clues.
‘Um, no.’ I hold my hand out again. Too late, I pick up on the tremor in my fingers.
A brow lifts above one too-curious baby blue eye. ‘Don’t tell me Jason has competition?’
My face freezes. She wouldn’t read it, would she? I don’t know what Luke has written. If he’s anything like Theo, it’ll be an unimaginative one liner under some crappy poetry. But after what he said Saturday night …
Panic makes me swipe at the card.
Reflexively, Sandy dodges, confusion and question marks in her eyes.
I try to ignore them and hold out my hand again. ‘Please, just give me the card.’ This time I don’t care about the tremor in my fingers. I just want the birthday card.
And then she does the unthinkable. Before I’ve finished my ‘don’t you dare!’ she’s slipped the card out of its envelope.
He
r brows pull together. ‘It’s from Luke.’
My teeth snag the corner of my lip; by her tone this could go either way. ‘Yes. I’m his tutor, remember?’ And there’s nothing wrong with a student giving his tutor a birthday card. Nothing.
Unless he’s written more than a token one liner. But the lack of sharp daggers in Sandy’s gaze when she looks back at me gives me hope he’s kept it nice and boring.
Then her eyelids narrow. ‘So what’s with all the secrecy?’
Excellent question, and one I don’t have an answer for, at least not quickly enough.
‘Was Luke at dinner Saturday night?’
I swallow, forcing down the lump of panic. We’re officially in dangerous territory here.
The lump claws its way back up my windpipe.
‘He came with Theo, yes.’ There’s no need to mention I asked him first.
‘Theo? To your birthday dinner?’
I shrug. ‘With Theo and Mum the way they are … I guess he wanted a wingman.’ Is she buying it? Please let her buy it. It’s hard to tell from her scrunched-up expression.
She looks from me to the card and back to me again as she finally hands it back.
To my surprise there’s no crappy poetry. Only a few lines of handwriting: Thanks for all your help. I really appreciate you giving up your time. I only wish I could have more of it. Happy Birthday. Luke.
I breathe out in relief; he’s thanking me for the tutoring. Nothing remotely incriminating. I frown at the irrational stab of disappointment.
‘You’re into him, aren’t you?’
The question snaps my head up so quickly my neck muscles wince. Then my mouth follows suit when I come gaze to gaze with disbelieving blue. Answer her. Quickly!
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ But there’s a heated sting in my cheeks and I can’t hold her gaze, because I’m slipping on the cold realisation of betrayal in her eyes.
‘I don’t believe this.’ The quiet of Sandy’s voice is not good. Not good. ‘Here I thought you were trying to get Jason’s attention when all this time—’ She takes a step away from me and it’s like a kick in the gut.
‘No! You’ve got it all wrong.’ My voice booms down the corridor. I look around. Thankfully no one else is close enough to hear. ‘I did want to get Jason’s attention.’
‘Did?’ She lifts her chin and sends a cold look down at me. ‘That’s past tense.’
‘I do.’ I edge a step closer to her. ‘I still want to get Jason’s attention. Really, I do.’ Even though now Luke might be … that Luke is …
Nothing more than a friend.
This time the stab of disappointment is sharper. Deeper. I tighten my hands around my folder and books to ground myself.
This is how it has to be.
I look up. If doubt had a picture next to its dictionary definition, it’d be Sandy’s expression as it is now. ‘You have the worst poker face, MJ.’
Heat. All over my neck, my face. Dammit! The embarrassed guilt lingers, then morphs into bubbling anger. Anger that should be directed at me, at my pathetic spinelessness, my fear to take a stand for what I really want.
But Sandy makes an easier target.
‘What exactly makes him so interesting to you? It’s not like he’s one of your preppy North Shore guys.’ I square my shoulders and face her straight on. ‘Or is that the appeal: slumming it with a guy from the wrong side of the Bridge?’
She inhales sharply, her features tightening, and I regret every stupid, hurtful word I’ve just said as my muscles tense in preparation for the mother of all fallouts. But Sandy doesn’t move.
Her voice is frighteningly controlled when she speaks. ‘What makes Luke interesting to me is the same thing that makes him interesting to you, although I doubt you’ve figured out what that is yet because you’re so socially unevolved.’
I shake my head; she’s not making any sense.
Sandy flashes me a look so dry I’m all but waiting for cracks to show in her flawless makeup. ‘For all your book smarts you really can be incredibly stupid.’
Her insult stings, but it’s justified. The fact that I have no idea what she’s talking about is proof of the fact.
‘Let me spell out for you why you’re suddenly getting the warm fuzzies for Luke when, up until now, it’s been brainiac Jason this and brainiac Jason that. It’s because Luke doesn’t care what you’ll get in today’s physics assessment or the science comp or all the other exams you’ll sit in the future, just like he doesn’t care how much my father earns and what well-connected family my mother comes from. He sees people for who they are when all the pretentious academic and economic trimmings are stripped off and allows them to just … be.’
He’s one of the good guys. Theo’s words echo in my mind.
‘That’s his appeal, MJ; the draw card that makes him different. A whole other kind of intelligence.’ She swallows and her eyes find a spot over my shoulder. They only stay there for a moment. Barely long enough for me to make sense of what she has said, and what it all means. Plenty long enough, though, for guilt to start pressing at my ribcage.
‘It’s not like that. Luke and I, we’re not …’ I grapple for words, but all the right ones slip through my clammy fingers. ‘We’re just friends. It’s got a little confusing, but I won’t let it be more than that.’
Steel swims in the blue of Sandy’s gaze when she focuses on my face again. ‘Sure. You keep telling yourself that.’ She turns her back on me and, head held proud and high, she walks down the corridor towards her period one class.
Shock shoots lead into my limbs until I’m so heavy I step back and lean against the nearest locker. My hands find the strap of my bag and twist. I’m making the right choice, aren’t I? I mean, Luke isn’t the guy for me. Luke is the guy who throws bowling games so I don’t feel inadequate. The guy who sneaks food into the library so I don’t starve. The guy who urges me to follow my dream of lab coats and petri dishes so I don’t lose sight of myself.
A whole other kind of intelligence.
I let the weight of it all pull me down until my backside sinks to the hard linoleum floor.
I know the sensible thing to do. As Theo would say, the paint-by-numbers option. Within the lines.
I close my eyes, an attempt to block out the truth I don’t want to see. It’s no use. The thud-thud-thud of my heart screams it loud and clear as the bell for start of class shrills through the building—my edges are already blurring. It’s only a matter of time before I’ve lost sight of who I am.
Or worse, of the person Luke makes me want to be.
Luke
Bitter Truths
The day my father bailed on us started like any other. Mum got me up, bundled me into her old Camry and drove me to school. Six hours later she was waiting for me at the gate, smiling. I barrelled towards her, eager to get home, stuff my face with Vegemite toast and watch whatever was on the cartoon channel that afternoon. Blissfully ignorant that my life was about to come crashing down around me.
Dad didn’t come home that night, but Mum was still smiling. A week later and still no sign of my father, but she clung tight to that smile. Only now, twelve years on, do I see that line of her lips for what it really was. Like a badly tuned drum, her awkwardly tight smile was a desperate attempt to uphold an illusion. Because the truth without it was too painful, too hideous to bear—the truth that your husband, your children’s father, doesn’t want you. Any of you.
For the next year, every time Mum smiled I glimpsed more and more of that bitter truth behind the lie of her smile. And even though seven-year-old me often wished I could escape into the he’ll-come-back illusion, I soon learned even bitter truths are eventually digested.
If nothing else, my bastard father’s decision to leave taught me that no matter how vile the truth is to swallow, it won’t kill you. Wishing for the illusion tha
t he’d one day come back? That meant wishing for a reality into which Rosie had never been born. So I swore I’d never wish to escape into an illusion again.
Until I walk into the uni library Monday afternoon.
My legs drag, everything in me wants to stop, turn around, go back. Back to Saturday night, before I offered MJ more than friendship. Because waiting for me is a badly-tuned drum smile she’s forced her cymbal clash lips into.
By sheer force of will I make my legs cover the last few metres to the study booth she’s sitting in.
‘Hi.’ Like her smile, her voice is tight. But her eyes are soft and stay locked on my face. Okay, stay cool. Maybe this won’t end with my heart bleeding out under one of the study booth tables.
‘Did you get home all right Saturday night?’
So we’re avoiding the more-than-friends elephant in the room. Any other girl and I wouldn’t be surprised, but coming from sledgehammer MJ? This kind of dodge is bad news.
‘Yeah. Not much happening on the road that time of night.’ I dig for my chemistry stuff in my bag. Don’t know why I bother. No way is anything study related sinking into my brain until MJ gives me her decision. But I don’t do sledgehammer like she does.
‘How did the rest of dinner go?’ I ask instead.
Her expression pinches. ‘You didn’t miss much. We spent the rest of the night discussing the science competition.’ Her gaze slips from mine. ‘My mother and Jason have a lot in common.’
Heart. Under study booth table. Not yet bleeding out, but damn close.
‘Did you look at the card I gave you?’ It’s my last shot. If she shows no reaction to the card, then I’m done for.
‘Yes.’ Bingo! A smile. Genuine enough to bring out one of my own. Until I pick up on the total lack of emotional investment in her expression.
MJ reaches for my chem textbook, fidgets with the pages.
‘It was very thoughtful. Thank you.’
Thoughtful? Thank you? Maybe my message was too subtle. I know MJ needs emotions spelled out in big bold letters, but I couldn’t have been clearer if I’d painted her the damn picture myself.