Happiness, as I now know, isn’t fixed or permanent. It comes and goes and that’s okay, it’s in its nature; people would never appreciate it were they to have it all the time. Happiness was a temporal condition, a feeling that could be discovered in even the most hopeless of places. I had found happiness in my Blackhole. I knew the Blackhole still lived in my bed; some days I could still feel it clawing with ravenous hunger but just because it was there didn’t mean I wasn’t worth finding happiness. I could find it and I had; in moments of blinding light that extinguished the Blackhole completely.
21
‘What are you wearing?’ Mel was sitting cross-legged on my bed and watching my fourth attempt at applying eyeliner.
‘Um…’ I couldn’t think of my full answer. My mouth had formed a perfect little “o” so intent was my concentration, but my hands were shaking and the black line wobbled.
‘Fuck.’ I dropped the pencil in my lap and grabbed a tissue to wipe it off and start again. Mel sighed.
‘Here, let me.’ She pulled my desk chair to where she was sitting on the bed.
‘Spit,’ she instructed and I wet the tissue. She wiped off the wobbly black line in two sweeps and then pulled my face closer to hers, applying my eyeliner perfectly with a flick. I studied my face in the mirror.
‘How are you so good at it?’ I moaned.
‘Practice. So what are you wearing?’ she repeated. I answered her question while brushing blush on my cheeks.
‘I think the blue dress my parents got me for my birthday.’
‘Have I seen that one?’
‘Probably not, it’s in my wardrobe.’
Mel stood up and started to go through the few dresses I had.
‘The dark blue one?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’ My mouth had formed that perfect “o” again as I brushed on my mascara.
‘It’s got long sleeves.’ I added and heard Mel turnaround from my wardrobe. She draped the dress on the back of my chair.
‘It’s pretty, I like it,’ she said, returning to her place on my bed. I swirled around in my chair.
‘Thanks, I can’t believe I like it so much. How does my makeup look?’
‘Beautiful. Your mum has good taste.’
‘That she does.’
It was Doug’s twenty-first birthday party tonight. He was having a house party organised by his parents and I knew Sylvia had revelled in the planning of it all. She’d rung me a couple of times asking for ideas and I’d gone over yesterday to help her hang fairy lights in the garden with Glen. Since exams had finished two weeks ago Doug and I had rarely been apart, yet nothing had happened and it needed too. Our time together had become stifling, we were being suffocated by our unspoken thoughts and feelings, yet the timing had never been right. It had become a source of anxiety so Doug’s party had been a welcome distraction. I’d found that outside of Glen, Abby and I, Doug had very few friends. He had a few from school and from his days at UWA, but after people had RSVP’d and said they weren’t coming I’d bumped up the guest list with Mel, my parents and Peter. Peter had flown home last week. He had done brilliantly in his final semester; he was expected to graduate with honours. Our parents were exceptionally proud and underneath all of his tiredness and relief I got the sense that Peter was too. There was a knock at the door and my mum popped her head round.
‘Are you girls almost ready?’ she asked.
‘Yup, just getting my dress on,’ I replied.
‘Okay, we’re ready to leave when you are.’
‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ Mel declared, standing up. My mother opened the door wider for her to pass through and I pulled off the tank top and shorts I was wearing, slipping my dress over my head.
‘Oh, you’re wearing your blue one,’ my mother breathed.
‘Yeah.’ My words were muffled against the fabric; I’d got my head stuck as I tried to pull it on. I felt a tug at the hem and the dress fell, my mother zipped it up at the back and I flattened it against my body.
‘How do I look?’ I asked, turning around.
‘Beautiful, as you always do.’ My mother gave me a smile and I liked the happy feeling it elicited from my heart.
Mel appeared next to my mother. ‘Ready?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, let’s go,’ I said.
I was squished between Peter and Mel on the car ride to Doug’s and they’d played corners so I couldn’t begrudge their logic in declaring that as the smallest, I had to sit in the middle. We had arrived forty-five minutes late and Dad had been forced to park at the end of a very long line of cars which bordered the street.
‘Okay, we’re following you,’ Dad said as I climbed out of the car.
‘Just look for the castle,’ I replied.
‘Blue BMW out the front?’ Peter asked and I nodded. He let a low whistle. ‘Nice.’
I found it hard to see why Sylvia thought we’d needed to buff the guest list. Walking into Doug’s house was like braving Boxing Day sales: there were people everywhere, none of whom I recognised. Negotiating the throng of people Mel and I lost my parents and Peter; my plan became not to find someone I knew, but just escape the crush of people. We made it outside and I found Glen and Abby sitting on the outdoor setting, relief washed over me and I made the introductions for Mel. Glancing around the garden I spotted Doug talking with his parents and two other guests. I didn’t interrupt them, Doug would be free eventually.
‘You look so pretty!’ Abby gushed and I hugged her.
‘Thanks, as do you.’
‘We’re so glad you’re here. We don’t know anyone,’ she whispered loudly.
‘Sorry we’re late then,’ I replied. Mel and I sat down, though a moment later I heard Doug call my name out and looked up to see him walking over, beer in hand. He wrapped me in a massive hug.
‘Happy birthday,’ I said as we broke apart and handed him his gift.
‘What? You got me something?’
‘It’s your birthday, it’s what people do.’
My parents, Peter and I had all put in to buy him a copy of Brahms Piano Concerto 1 performed by the London Symphony Orchestra on vinyl. It was an exceptionally thoughtful gift so I was excited to see Doug’s reaction. He peeled off the paper and stared at it for a moment. I mistook his silence and assumed he’d already got a copy.
‘I’m sorry if you don’t like it.’ Before I knew it Doug had wrapped me in another hug.
‘Thank you. Oh my God, it’s actually perfect.’ I felt my face break into a stupid grin. I was afraid to meet his eyes lest they betray me and used the moment to introduce Mel.
‘So nice to finally meet you.’ Doug grinned.
‘Likewise, I’ve heard so much about you,’ Mel replied rather curtly.
Doug’s face clouded for a moment. He gave a side glance and I smiled at him somewhat awkwardly as Mel laughed.
‘Oh don’t be worried. I’m just slightly jealous of the person who supplanted me as her bestie.’ Mel had her moments of delightful charm and Doug laughed.
‘Doug.’ We turned at the sound of Sylvia’s voice and she was motioning her son over. Seeing me she gave me an excited wave and held up two fingers which I assumed meant she’d be over to see me in two minutes.
‘I better get back to saying hi to everyone.’ Doug rolled his eyes a little at his mother and tucked the record underneath his arm.
‘Yeah, don’t worry about us. Go have fun,’ I replied.
‘Drinks are in the esky’s please help yourself and I’ll be back later.’ Doug gave me another hug before he disappeared into the crowd of people inside and I sat down next to Mel.
I met a lot of people that night. They all seemed lovely and even when I was sitting in silence; listening to the conversations of those around me, I felt a sense of contented happiness. That feeling alone made me smile.
&nb
sp; ‘What are you smiling at?’ Mel asked.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t even know,’ I replied and Mel gave me a smile.
‘That’s the best reason.’
‘That’s what Peter said,’ I told her. ‘Why are you smiling though?’ I asked her, playfully poking her leg.
‘Because you are and when you’re happy, I’m happy.’
I laughed.
My parents and Peter lasted longer than I expected, it was well after midnight when they left and I arranged to get a lift home with Glen. Abby and Mel left soon after my parents and Peter. They’d got on brilliantly together, like I thought they would and I was left sitting outside with Cam and Glen. The boys were talking about the footy and I was drifting in and out of their conversation, eavesdropping on the quiet exchanges shared by other people; there weren’t many left though, just the stragglers who were polite enough not to vanish after the cake and speeches were over. Glancing through the windows behind me I saw Sylvia starting the clean-up inside and not finding any particular reason to stay and listen to Cam and Glen, I got up to help her.
‘Hello, pet, are you having a nice time?’ Sylvia’s cheeks were flushed a lovely shade of red to match the rosé she’d been drinking.
‘I’m having a wonderful time. Can I give you a hand?’ I asked.
‘Oh no, don’t worry about it, nothing I can’t handle,’ she rebuffed.
‘Well because I don’t really want to talk about the footy I’m going to hover around you and I’ll feel bad just talking while not helping so please, what can I do?’
Sylvia contemplated me with a smile. ‘Well if that’s the case, I suppose you can help me clear the table. Anything you think is worth keeping chuck in a container and put in the fridge, the rest just throw out.’
We worked in silence. There wasn’t a lot of food left over so the task was relatively easy and I rather liked the slow, methodical action of picking up plates and binning them. Sylvia’s next question caught me off-guard.
‘Should I ask what’s between you and Doug?’
My stomach instantly turned to lead and plummeted through the floor. I looked at Sylvia in a silent panic and she reached out to me as I tried to laugh and brush aside the feelings that rushed to the surface.
‘Oh don’t look so startled.’ She patted my hand and I found myself unable to say anything. ‘Now this could be the wine talking, and I will admit to having a few, but I’m just interested. If you think this is too weird then just say “Sylvia, shut up”.’ I continued to stare at her dumbly and after a moment she gave me a youthful grin which made her appear almost girlish and gave my hand another pat.
‘Ah,’ she said.
‘What does that mean? I didn’t say anything.’ My tongue almost fell over itself as it struggled to form the words to keep up with my brain.
Sylvia’s eyes, the same as Doug’s, held mine. ‘Sometime it’s what we don’t say that speaks loudest.’
‘Hey.’ Doug’s breezy greeting snapped my eyes from Sylvia’s.
‘Hey yourself. Having a good time?’ I asked, hoping the blush staining my cheeks wasn’t too noticeable.
‘Yeah, knackered though.’ Doug leaned up against the table next to me. Sylvia squeezed the hand of mine she was holding once more before letting go and clapping hers together.
‘That I completely understand. Where’s your dad?’ she asked. Doug nodded his head in the direction of the door.
‘He’s outside,’ he said.
Sylvia looked out into the garden where Patrick was beginning to clear away the half-filled bottles and cans that guests had left forgotten on every conceivable surface and went out to help him, leaving Doug and I alone.
‘Have you had a good night?’ Doug asked.
I nodded my head and gave him a sleepy smile. ‘Yes, it’s been such a good night.’
‘That’s good.’ Doug gave me a shy smile as an awkward silence squeezed its way between us.
‘What do you have planned for tomorrow?’ I asked and Doug shrugged his shoulders.
‘Um, nothing actually. Mum and dad have a party down South which they’ll leave for early, and Cam’s doing something with his mates. Probably end up just hanging around home.’
‘Sounds like my plan too.’ I grinned.
‘Well did you want to hang out?’ He gave me another shy smile.
‘Yeah, that would be great.’ I returned his smile and we stood there, smiling at each other for slightly to long before Glen walked inside with Cam behind him.
‘Hey, you all right if we bounce?’ Glen asked me.
‘Who the fuck says “bounce”?’ Cam mocked.
‘Shitty white rappers?’ Doug suggested and I laughed.
‘Which is me, obviously,’ Glen replied.
‘Yeah sure, I’m ready to bounce,’ I said as my laughter subsided.
‘Got everything?’ Doug asked me.
‘Uh-huh, well thanks again.’ I gave him a hug and held onto him for a moment longer than necessary, as he did me.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’ he restated and I nodded my head.
‘See you then.’
22
The face in the mirror looked vaguely familiar.
Hair the colour of dirty dishwater and eyes to match; they were the only things I recognised from the face that I had been staring at for the past two years. The face now was thinner and no longer painted with a sick shade of flesh. I smiled and she smiled back. For the first time in a very long time I didn’t hate looking at her.
“Hello.”
The smile widened.
“It’s been a while.”
Doug was sitting on the porch, in one of the wicker chairs. We’d spent the afternoon at Leighton beach. I usually hated the beach though today I’d resented it less than usual for no other reason than narcissistic vanity; I looked really good in a bikini. In all honesty I was too skinny. I hadn’t regained any of the weight I’d lost over the winter and while my mother had made it abundantly clear I could have afforded to lose a few kilos, I estimated I’d lost at least twice that. My arms were thinner and my elbows jutted out uncomfortably, whilst my stomach had flattened. I wasn’t exactly upset with how I looked, I’d rather be thin than chubby, but I’d only really noticed my new thinness when trying on bikinis; I couldn’t fill out tops anymore. The sad thing was I wasn’t the only girl at the beach today who looked underfed. I guess other people had their own Blackholes. Doug looked up as I opened the hissing fly screen and came back outside, carrying a small book. His hair was dishevelled and swept to one side, the salt from the water keeping it in place and he’d put on a T-shirt but kept his boardies on as shorts. His sunglasses and thongs just completed the beachy look and he pulled it off well.
‘Feel like going for a walk?’ I asked and Doug nodded, standing up.
‘Sure.’ He brushed his shorts and a small waterfall of white sand fell off them. I imagined I’d have the same thing happen when I showered tonight and took off my bikini, at the moment I was still wearing the blue tie-dyed dress I’d gone out in. The day had been hot though not unpleasant, the heat was a dry one that baked and I’d fallen asleep reading on the sand. Doug had watched me read while he’d listened to music and grinned towards the sun whenever I laughed at the book.
‘I knew you’d like Heller,’ he’d said. I did like Heller. Catch-22 was brilliant and hilarious, reading it made me think that perhaps I didn’t hate reading as much as the Blackhole had lead me to believe. The heat of the day had begun to fade as the sun fell below the horizon. The sky was lit up with faint shades of orange and pink which deepened, bruising purple as the sun sank into the deep sea. We didn’t walk far, just to the grassy embankment at the corner of the street which provided a perfect view of Fremantle port and the ocean beyond it. I sat down with my legs crossed and began to shred blades of grass along their sea
m as Doug took a photo of the sunset on his phone.
‘Doesn’t really catch it,’ he remarked studying the images he’d just captured before deleting them.
‘It’s the shitty camera on your phone.’
‘Nah, I just suck at taking photos,’ he admitted in a disappointed tone. He dropped down beside me and knocked my knee with his elbow.
‘How’s your photography going?’
I looked at him. ‘Yeah good, I think. The unit was actually really fun this semester but I didn’t really learn much. It was a lot like an introduction to photography course, but it was good to get back into it, I’m excited for the one next year.’
‘I’m so glad; it’s awesome you’re doing it,’ Doug said and his smile was blinding.
‘Actually, I have something for you,’ I began and Doug looked at me, I could see him squinting through his sunglasses in the harsh light of the dying sun. I picked up the small book I’d been carrying from where I’d placed it on the grass. In actuality, the book was an album. Our final project for the photography unit was providing a portfolio of photographs that we felt best represented ourselves at this particular point in our life. I’d struggled with the concept initially. Talking to my classmates, they were flush of ideas; they knew who they were or at least the person they wanted to represent whereas I was still fresh and shaking off pieces of my Blackhole. How did I present a person I didn’t even know? Waking up one morning had given me my creative epiphany. It was a morning where the Blackhole had opened up beneath me and threatened to pull me in. I’d propped myself up on my knees and hands and stared at the crumpled and creased sheets hating it. Feeling my head burn with the hatred I don’t know what made me pick up my camera but I took a photo of the crumpled sheets and the tangled quilt and called it the beginning. I thought it rather poetic to see what could be born out of the depths of a Blackhole.
My Bed is a Blackhole Page 23