Friendship on Fire

by Danielle Weiler

  Stop for what? Certainly the wrong reasons, for you, I replied sadly inside my head.

  The tearing feeling within stretched to breaking point and I was left winded and faint. Worst of all, alone.

  And then my voice went utterly mute.

  I don’t remember how I made it home. The moments immediately after what I now call ‘the betrayal’ are blurred and anything after the event with Roman are completely dormant inside a locked cavity in my brain, where only repressed memories go. Who took me home; I’m not sure either. How things were left at the party, I couldn’t ever handle the knowledge.

  I only remember the worried look in my parents’ eyes as I shut mine, shivering uncontrollably under the safe covers of my doona. The shock inside my head and heart had now spread to every nerve in my body and I ceased to function.

  Then it was midday the next day.

  I opened my eyes and squinted into the offending daylight. For a split second it was like any other day. The haze of adjusting mind and body to a new day shielded my pain and I wondered why I had slept in so late and why no one had woken me yet.

  The movie played in my head again. The body language, the bushes, the sheer publicity of their indiscretion. I bent over my bed as my stomach dry retched, over and over.

  He was mine. He was supposed to stay mine. What happened between us was ours, to be kept in a safe place for no one to share. That was the standard I held myself to. It was the reciprocal hope I clung to when I gave everything to him not even a week ago.

  In vain.

  How could I ever distract myself from this feeling? It had attached itself to my senses, like a cancerous tumour. It affected every waking minute, no matter how frequently my mind changed subjects.

  How did a wounded heart recover from the worst kind of deal breaker; infidelity?

  And yet, a part of my mind still tried to promise with every piece of fervent fibre, that it could be forgotten. With one small decision, things could go back to the way they were and I could keep moving forward in love and learning.

  How I desperately wanted to believe this minority voice; to call Nate and ask him to take me out for dinner again, to feel his hands on my body the way he’d taught me to like it and to shut Rachael out of my life so as to never have a reminder of Nate’s temptation.

  If I had agreed to my mind’s insane demand, it would have lasted but a few minutes before the roar of soundless imagery returned to my reality, to grip my heart more tightly than before with its taunts.

  No, there was to be no forgetting the few seconds that ruined my chance of happiness with Nate, along with the destruction of my friendship with Rachael.

  The discovery of Roman’s own lie was an extra painful add-on to my trauma; the reason for his cover up until now still unknown.

  My rollercoaster life, as I knew it, had stopped mid air, throwing off all passengers except me. Me? I was left dangling from the highest point possible on the ride; clinging to my seatbelt with two fingers, desperately not wanting to acknowledge my fate should I fall.

  I laughed soundlessly, bitterly, as I realised the irony of the situation before me. My seatbelt had failed me; I was going to fall regardless.

  Sitting at the edge of my bed, head in hands, my eyes caught a glimpse of the shiny necklace hanging on the lamp that was Nate’s gift to me only three months before.

  It was then that my two fingers buckled, sliding off the seatbelt for good, and I plunged into darkness.

  etness on my pillow woke me and it was black with darkness in my room. How embarrassing, I thought groggily. Have I drooled all over myself in my sleep? My lamplight revealed the extent of wetness, as well as the raw, salty patch across both sides of my nose and down my right cheek. The urge to scratch my eyes was uncontrollable, the lashes still wet and cold from recent weeping. What time was it? Had I cried in my sleep, yet managed to sleep most of the day?

  No one had bothered me. Why? The iron claw gripped my heart again and pulled. My stomach followed, resenting the automatic reaction to the memory barely twenty-four hours ago.

  Maybe, if I could sleep long enough, I would one day wake up and not feel this kind of pain. Maybe I could skip this episode in my life and jump to the next, having possibly learnt nothing from it in the process.

  That sounds OK, my head reasoned. I can get another boyfriend. Someone who treats me well and would never cheat.

  The image in my eyes changed to Roman, blue eyes sparkling as he frowned at my delusional face. His lips softly pressed against mine, his arms caressed my back and arms.

  He had kissed me back.

  Not for simply a second, but a noticeable amount of time, before I was pushed away by him also and introduced to his stranger girlfriend.

  Oh.

  Was this the distraction James had been talking about when he fobbed me off last week? Remembering that conversation in retrospect, my head threatened to blacken again if I wasn’t careful with it.

  The image changed back to Nate while I was still kissing Roman and with a twist of bitter pleasure I remembered every night the past week, learning everything Nate had chosen to teach me. How quickly the faces could change between each other now; how wrong that was.

  I sighed, defeated.

  The new information arising in my head only added to the million questions and scenes already there, mutating and convoluting such that it felt like everyone had intertwined and conspired against me.

  Surely not Roman.

  But, then, surely not Rachael?

  Surely not the person you told you loved only a week ago? And who hadn’t said it back. I was now powerless, unable to take any pride back from Nate’s grasp. And how could I? I hadn’t left myself with anything to steal back.

  What was one lie against another? Roman hadn’t told me about his girlfriend, for whatever reason, and he’d had the chance to for a long time. As far as my survival mode was concerned, he was now in the mix with the rest of them.

  I grabbed my phone off my bedside table to check the time. Three-thirty on Monday morning. My stomach growled wildly, but I feared food. What if I ate a whole pizza and then barfed it because I remembered Nate on top of Rachael in the sand? It wasn’t worth it.

  I coughed bitterly as my stomach threatened to hurl itself out of my body. I had to distract myself.

  Messages and missed calls flashed across my phone screen. Before I could make the decision to ignore them and try something else, my traitor eyes saw who they were from.

  Nate, Rachael, Roman. Big surprise. Quickly I scrolled through the messages, already fearing their subject content.

  ‘Daisy, I know you won’t want to hear this …’ Rachael’s started.

  ‘Daisy, answer my calls, it’s not what it looks like, we need to talk …’ Nate’s started.

  ‘Daisy, when you are feeling better, please let me know …’ Roman’s started.

  They all sounded the same. They could all go to hell.

  I flung my arm back and then forward, throwing my phone as hard as I could at the far wall of my room. I watched with grim satisfaction as it splayed into pieces across the carpet.

  Within seconds, a light went on in the hallway.

  Silently I cursed myself; I could have chosen a better time to make such a racket. I wished I could act like I was asleep; blame a green gremlin for destroying the household peace and quiet.

  Mum opened the door and stood with her hands on her hips.

  ‘Daisy, what in the world …’ she whispered hotly while she assessed the damage on the floor.

  ‘Sorry, it was an accident,’ I lied.

  She opened her mouth to retaliate but thought better of it.

  ‘You’ve been sleeping for a while, why don’t you get up with me and I’ll make you some food?’ Her eyes revealed concern and I feared for my sanity if she tried to make me talk to her about my ‘feelings’.

  ‘No thanks, not hungry,’ I lied again.

  ‘You’re going to have to eat sometime,’ her die
titian voice warned.

  ‘And I will, but not now. Sorry I woke you. Go back to bed, I’m fine.’ I got back into bed and pulled my doona over me to prove it.

  ‘If you say so. See you in the morning,’ she whispered and shut the door silently.

  My lungs crumbled under a new weight of loneliness, not being able to talk to anyone now, and tears formed in my already exhausted eyes.

  I managed to convince my parents that I needed three days off school to recover from a rare case of insomnia I’d developed since the weekend. I knew they didn’t buy it, but they didn’t have the heart to send me to school, so it was a win-win situation. For me.

  I shut myself in my room and did what any girl with a broken heart would do in the same situation: I cried most of the day and night and cancelled work and sport.

  Anything I tried to eat would come straight back up again, without fail. My brothers watched me with wary eyes but left me alone, which I was grateful for. My diary was my only source of escape. It held the thoughts and feelings I couldn’t share with anyone else in my life right now.

  I did not speak to anyone that I didn’t have to.

  On Thursday I convinced my parents that I needed another two days off school. Mum wasn’t happy about the idea; however, Dad came to my rescue and said, ‘What would another two days hurt? It’s the end of the term anyway.’

  I remember trying to give him an appreciative look but it probably looked like a poor attempt at a frown. He nodded at me.

  Searching the fridge for small, harmless things to nibble on, I came across strawberries and blueberries on Friday. Dad and the boys were out, so I relished the time to be alone and test my stomach. I cut up the berries and gingerly placed a tiny piece of strawberry in my mouth. Waiting with dread, I chewed and swallowed.

  Nothing happened. I shrugged and placed a blueberry in my mouth. It slid down; my stomach didn’t reject it. Quite the contrary; it growled viciously at me while I stared down at it, blinking.

  What else could I eat? With more energy than I’d used in six days, I mounted a full-scale search in the fridge and pantry for edible items. There were barbeque shapes in the cupboard. I started on them after I downed the bowl of fruit. Fresh bread. I had two pieces of toast after I finished my share of shapes. Ice cream. It was mid-morning, but who cares? Vienetta was my favourite, so while I was on a roll, it was definitely on the cards. Although my stomach had shrunk from the lack of food I gave it this week, it welcomed the savage brunch I gave it now and begged for more.

  On Sunday my food obsession had worn off and I was back to crying again. This can’t be my new life. One where I cry at the drop of a hat and can’t sleep or eat properly. It was ridiculous.

  My brothers still ignored me and my parents trod carefully with every question they asked. I refused to talk about what happened, though I was sure someone kind would have filled them in on the whole debacle.

  I dreaded Monday morning. The sun set early on Sunday night and I felt the familiar feeling of my new friend, panic, in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t face them. I couldn’t face a world full of strangers, let alone the ones who broke my heart.

  Accosting my parents in front of the TV, I said, ‘Mum, Dad, I’m still not sleeping well …’ before Treston interrupted.

  ‘Daisy, it’s been a week. The longer you stay away, the more attention you’ll draw to yourself. You need to get back into your life, or everyone will think that they’ve won, when they haven’t. You’re stronger than this.’

  His eyes showed that he genuinely believed what he said, but I wasn’t nearly there yet.

  I turned on my heel and went back to my room, picking up a bag of potato chips on the way.

  refused to look at anyone on the way to school. Hell, I could have been hit by a car or a bike and I wouldn’t have looked up for them. I avoided any voices that sounded remotely familiar and hid in the common room’s bathroom as much as I could bear.

  I knew I was being extreme. I knew all the logical arguments for why I should get out there and shove it back at them. The simple fact was, I wasn’t yet strong enough.

  My teachers left me alone, too. I’d heard that teachers have radar for kids with bad days, but I’d never had to test it out before.

  And so it continued like this for the last week of term. Skye tried her best to bait me but she was either half-hearted about it or I ignored most of what she said. I couldn’t decide which.

  Roman watched me from a distance and Rachael was mostly nowhere to be seen. Well, good. I couldn’t account for my behaviour if I did bump into her in a hallway somewhere.

  On Friday night I dreaded the family coming over for dinner. I could try to fake an illness, but it probably wouldn’t work anymore unless it was cancer, so I might as well give up and just not talk to them over dinner. If I had to be there, I would, but they couldn’t make me talk.

  Mum and Dad were a lot more conniving than I previously thought. I was hunting around for some snakes or redskins when my parents cornered me in the kitchen.

  ‘Talk to us, sweetheart. Tell us how you’re feeling. You’re worrying us.’ They stood before me, frowning, eyes pleading, shoulder to shoulder. Trapped.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I said quietly, opening the packet of snakes and taking five out.

  ‘You haven’t talked about anything for two weeks now. It can’t be healthy for your body to bottle it up inside, either. And you haven’t been eating properly …’ Mum caught herself before she started another health lecture.

  Raising my head, I said more to them in one sentence than I had in the last two weeks. ‘How do you think I feel? I feel betrayed, that’s how it is for me. Betrayed by the people I thought I could trust above everyone else. To me, friendship and commitment are now both lies. I’m sorry if I’m not the best person to be around at the moment. You will have to get used to it.’

  I folded my arms defiantly and waited for their lecture.

  Dad stepped in. ‘We understand that you’re disappointed. Everyone will disappoint you at some stage in your life. It’s how you deal with it that matters for you,’ he said earnestly.

  How cliche. I showed my irritation. ‘Don’t you think I know that? I try to think positively. How can I forget about them and what they’ve done to me? I will have to see Rach every day at school and I was seeing Nate most days of the week before this happened. I replay what I saw in my head every minute of every day and it sickens me because I can’t figure out where I went wrong. Everyone knows what they did; I’m the laughing stock of both schools.’

  I breathed heavily after my long speech.

  ‘You’d be surprised how quickly people forget, Dais. They care for about a week then move on to the next rumour or scandal they can get their hands on,’ he continued.

  ‘Actually, they just stare at me and whisper whenever I walk into a room; they don’t have to talk to me about it to make me feel like I’m being scrutinised. And I deserve it because I should have seen it coming.’ I said that before I meant it to come out.

  ‘What do you mean? Who can predict when people will hurt us?’ Mum asked.

  I was nearly stuttering with bitterness.

  ‘Think about it. I never met his parents, or his friends. I was never a real part of his life. He only wanted me when he had time for me and when I wasn’t available for him he turned to Rachael without me knowing it. I should have listened to Roman and my brothers and taken things slower.’

  I sat on a bar stool and rested my chin in my hands, defeated.

  ‘That’s not your fault. You trusted him. You can’t blame yourself for trusting someone,’ Dad said. He was always practical and it annoyed me.

  I wanted to scream with frustration at their simple answers for everything I was feeling. Life wasn’t simple; there was no way they could make me feel better by minimising the truth.

  Luckily the phone rang then and Dad went to get it.

  I whispered hotly. ‘You both don’t get it. I’m nai
ve. I am forgiving and kind and stupid. I let him in after I saw dodgy signs of his personality because I was so blinded by his charm. Yes I pulled him up on how he’d treat people at times, but it sure didn’t stop me from staying with him. I’m stupid,’ I said, hitting myself on the forehead.

  ‘You aren’t stupid. You are the nicest girl I know. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of,’ Mum said with a strained voice and grabbed my hand away from my head.

  ‘Mum, I have to get over the fact that nice people get walked over. They are boring, predictable and can’t hold on to their boyfriends.’ My voice broke on the last word.

  ‘Careful, Daisy. I’m happy to listen to you but I won’t have you pulling yourself down like that. It’s not fair and it’s not true. At some point I will tell you to snap out of it,’ Mum said, folding her arms.

  ‘Yeah? It won’t do anything to help me. I’m in this frame of mind whether you or I like it. I have been made to feel like everything I have to offer is worth nothing,’ I spat, and more information than I ever meant to share was thrown out into the sea, now irretrievable.

  ‘Everything? How can you evaluate that?’ she demanded, frowning.

  I looked at her with my eyebrows raised. Dad was still talking on the phone in the background.

  ‘Think about it, Mum,’ I said quietly.

  ‘What? How serious were you with Nate?’

  I looked down at my hands, white at the knuckles from clasping the bench. I didn’t know what to say; I felt ashamed.

  Tears suddenly filled her eyes as she read my face and she was unable to respond. I knew then I had disappointed her more than I thought was possible. Up until now I hadn’t told her anything intimate about Nate and me. There was no real reason why I didn’t; maybe I was a chicken, maybe I didn’t want to see her face like I saw it now, maybe I liked the idea that I had a secret no one knew about. Now I wasn’t so smug.