Friendship on Fire

by Danielle Weiler

  How my legs burnt at his touch. How the rest of my body ached to be caressed by the hands they had come to know so intimately. How I wanted to forget anything negative from our past.

  ‘I have a headache,’ I whispered, slinking down into the chair more.

  ‘Close your eyes. I’ll help you feel better,’ he cooed, moving the intoxicating circles and kneading up my legs, thighs, to my arms.

  I could get used to this again. I desperately wanted things to go back to normal. We were happy together. Nate realised his mistake, and now we can be more open and honest with each other. Besides, Roman was still with Anya …

  Nate’s lips were in line with my right ear. They brushed my hair and sent goose bumps up my spine. ‘You know, we shouldn’t let something so small ruin us. We’re much bigger than that.’

  ‘Mm,’ I murmured, letting the warmth flow over me for another lingering second.

  He came dangerously close to my mouth. I could smell the sweet scent of his breath. If I moved my chin slightly …

  His voice was almost a whisper. ‘It’s not worth losing all we worked for, babe. Not when I was only drunk.’

  My eyes suddenly snapped open to stare at his. Judging from his body language in front of me, he believed that his last comment was a reasonable excuse.

  Everything I’d been through the last two months flashed back in front of my eyes. The sleepless nights, endless boxes of tissues, melancholy music, seeing Skye’s smirk every day, my last conversation with Rachael, seeing him and Rachael together in the sand …

  Nate’s hands became like crawling spiders on my arms. I slapped them away furiously and glared at him.

  ‘You will never understand,’ I whispered hotly, rising to go inside. I needed to shower, to wash away the disgusting feeling now like oil over my body.

  ‘What did I say?’ His arms spread wide, still on his knees.

  I fought my temper like I’d never fought it before. How I wanted to strangle him and knock some sense into him. It would be futile. He didn’t hold the same attitudes as me. It would be like flogging a dead horse.

  Turning back to him at the front door, I raised my eyebrows and said, ‘Stay away from me.’

  I vaguely remember hearing him call my name after me, and Dad locking the door on Nate’s broken face.

  I ran to the shower with my towel, and managed to lock the door behind me before bursting into tears. Quickly I tried to brush them away, for fear that seeing the broken image of myself in the mirror again would cause me to fall back into the deep hole once more.

  Instead, fresh tears fell for my innocence lost and trust broken. Romanticised ideals of love poured out of my eyes, racking my chest until I felt it would explode, having been wrung dry.

  Sliding down the wall into a crumbled heap on the bathroom floor, my pain was unheard by anyone else in the universe, except one.

  Later that night, I picked up my pen and wrote, from start to finish, a poem that fitted exactly what I was feeling. I figured it was a lot more productive than banging my head against my pillow.

  So proud was I of my inspired achievement that I went straight in to Mum’s room and sat on the edge of her bed. She was in her pyjamas reading a book. I handed her my diary to read my poem. She raised her eyebrows and read it intently. I simply waited for her response.

  Exciting Disappointment

  Something so special

  Crushed, made empty

  It should have been protected,

  But impatience waits for none

  The waterfall eyes

  That gold chain

  That dazed moment

  When time paused, for us

  Heat combines with lust

  If in fact, it only was

  Who knows? That look

  New familiarity created

  Fascination, bashfulness —

  An assortment of feelings

  Too good to pass up

  Also, too important to waste

  Flattering white — the street lamp

  An old movie set

  For you and I only;

  We steal the show

  The oceans roar with laughter

  A dog voices opinions

  Your heart on my heart

  Selective hearing and feeling

  Will our moment end?

  It seems infinite

  That hair, those lips

  That concentration, on me

  The peak of mountains

  Breathless, achievable

  The inevitable descent

  Afraid, to see the bottom

  Changed waterfalls now close

  Heat turns unexpectedly cold

  The ocean deafens our movie

  All flattering colours retreat

  To become the same,

  Empty black

  As I realise

  You aren’t mine.

  Shutting my diary, Mum flicked her eyes at me sternly.

  ‘Come inside, it’s much warmer in here,’ and she lifted up one side of the doona. I jumped in and began to wriggle.

  ‘Now, what’s this about? It’s a beautiful poem, Daisy, but what are you thinking?’

  I shrugged shyly. ‘It’s my way of dealing with what happened between us. I had to get out what it was like for me.’

  ‘Go on,’ she encouraged.

  ‘And like, out the front before, Nate nearly got me. He started trying this sneaky stuff to win me back, and I nearly gave in. I’m so stupid. I should have realised that’s all he wanted.’

  Mum took off her glasses and thought about her response.

  ‘Well, it might not have been all he wanted, but the only way he knew to get your attention. Does that make sense?’

  I chewed on my lip pondering this. It’s true; the physical side was what he knew best, and what he thought would win me over, because it meant more to me.

  ‘He used the ‘I was drunk’ excuse, Mum. Then he looked so confused when I told him to stay away from me for good.’

  ‘He might have heard others say it and get away with it. To some, it is a legitimate excuse. Nate’s not used to someone like you, with such high standards,’ she replied sensibly.

  ‘Apparently not high enough. I didn’t know it, but all his friends are involved in some pretty dodgy stuff with each other,’ I shuddered at the memory. ‘No, he’ll never get a chance to get used to me. He’s … different.’ I took my diary from her soft hands.

  ‘He is. Sometimes different isn’t a bad thing. Your father and I have different hobbies, and opinions on politics and the state of the world, but our attitude to fidelity and loyalty are the same. That’s the key.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about that before. There are so many complexities in finding the right one, isn’t there Mum?’

  Mum nodded. ‘Sure are. Daisy you are a good girl. Keep writing, you’re good at it. And keep your standards. Wait for someone worthy to come along. Like Roman.’

  I squealed at her and pulled out the pillow from under her back, hitting her with it while she chuckled confidently under my blows.

  hana called me the next day and demanded that we hang out, urgently. Seeing as she’s not normally so demanding, I agreed to meet her at the park closest to us, on the swings. The memory of the swings made my stomach lurch; it was another hurdle I had yet to beat.

  She was already there, with James, swinging and laughing.

  How had she got there so quickly? Had she called from the swings? I rolled my eyes and stood, hands on hips, in front of them. They didn’t notice me amidst their canoodling.

  I cleared my throat.

  ‘Oh hey. That was quick,’ Shana exclaimed, letting James go.

  ‘And you. But you called me from the park, didn’t you?’ I accused, stifling a smile in spite of myself.

  She ducked her head and blushed. ‘Maybe. But it was urgent. We have something important to tell you.’

  I shuddered. ‘I don’t like those words. Out with it, please.’

  Shan
a nodded to James, and I frowned. What would he have to tell me?

  ‘I was talking to Roman last night, and he was pretty cut up at something he saw …’ James said, trying to look meaningful.

  ‘Yeah?’

  The penny not having dropped yet drove James to give more information than he had first wanted to give. He was so fair, that any talk about anyone else was like gossiping to him.

  He shifted his weight on the swing. ‘Well, he was driving past your house to talk to you, make things right, you know? But instead, he saw you and Nate together on the veranda.’

  ‘Right.’ This information was another shock to me. I couldn’t win. Heat rushed to my face as I looked away from them.

  Shana squinted at me through the sunlight. ‘What were you doing with Nate, Daisy?’

  ‘Not kissing him again, if that’s what you mean,’ I quickly snapped.

  She didn’t take offence. ‘I didn’t mean that. What was he doing there, kneeling in front of your chair?’

  ‘Trying to get me back,’ I said in a small voice, raising my hand to my forehead to cool it. This was embarrassing to talk about in front of James.

  ‘I hope he was unsuccessful,’ Shana all but shouted at me.

  ‘Of course he was. How stupid do you think I am?’ Still, I continued to blush.

  ‘Come on, woman. It took me this long to get him to sort things out with you, and you have another guy there? Great work,’ James said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘Shouldn’t he be busy with Anya?’ I spat her name out.

  ‘Not quite,’ James said quietly. Great, more secrets he couldn’t tell me.

  I threw my hands up in the air. ‘James. How was I supposed to know? Should I not have anyone over because I’m waiting for the epic day that Roman will get over it and come talk to me? He could have called first,’ I retorted sarcastically. Then I sighed. ‘I’ve stuffed it now, haven’t I?’

  James shrugged, pulling Shana off her swing and onto his lap. ‘Maybe, maybe not. It depends. Roman is his own man. Your guess is as good as mine.’

  Shana flicked me a sympathetic look before slinging her arm around James’ neck like I used to do with Nate.

  Confusion and guilt for thinking about him ripped across raw nerves. Shana saw my expression and reached out to pat my leg. ‘Everything will sort out. If not today, or soon enough for your liking, it will one day. Hold onto that.’

  I wanted to shout; scream back at her that it was fine to say whatever she wanted when she was in a comfortable, loving relationship, and didn’t feel the nauseating agony that I did.

  I didn’t resent her, as such. I resented the safe environment that she shared with James and everything that it entailed.

  I wanted to be loved as well.

  It was a fresh morning as I jogged to the local supermarket for supplies. Taking the car would draw unwanted attention, so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone by exercising and stocking up. My fingers tingled as they warmed through the pink Billabong gloves; my well-worn birthday present from Roman. The equivalent of a lifetime ago.

  Racing through the tree-lined footpaths, I marvelled at how fast I had gained fitness since I started running. The beanie’s plait on my head that matched the gloves and scarf bobbed up and down with every step, and my heart beat steadily as I blew cold smoke out of my mouth and nose.

  What a perfect, cool morning already. No distractions, no one to bother me or ask me questions. No one to make me think about the boys in my life, twice removed.

  Five minutes later I arrived at the supermarket. Looking down at my fingers, I started to gently pull the gloves off so I could handle products without dropping them. I tucked the gloves into my pocket and pushed through the turnstile to enter the world of lollies and other necessities. All of a sudden I had to slam on the brakes as I realised who I was about to bump into.

  Roman’s mum.

  She was furiously trying to squeeze her trolley between other trolleys in line at the express lane, and failing miserably. I waited a hair’s breadth behind her, not wanting to step on her heels or reveal my identity. I hoped and prayed she wouldn’t turn around and discover it was me, and force me to talk about Roman or something equally as embarrassing.

  Don’t get me wrong. She was a lovely lady. She talked a lot. I was being anti-social.

  I figured my shop would take less time than hers. She had a trolley. I had two hands. All I had to do was grab what I needed, and bolt. She wouldn’t recognise me if I kept my beanie and scarf on. Had she even seen me since I dyed my hair back from red? I had to bank on it.

  So I began my task of outrunning her, out-manoeuvring her according to survival of the fittest. I was younger, more agile. I ran to my aisle, and picked up a box of inconspicuous bright pink tampons. Then I bolted.

  Maybe she couldn’t see me if I was up the other end of a lane to her? Clutching my box, I shuffled along the top of the aisles, checking to my left for any sign of her in each. I felt like I was on the set of the Bourne Identity, such was my passion for escaping embarrassment of the highest degree.

  I was nearly in the fruit and veg section, and then I could make a beeline for the express checkouts and avoid confrontation with the lovely Mrs Taylor.

  ‘Daisy,’ a voice exclaimed, to my right.

  I stopped in my tracks, mouth open, centimetres before running into Roman’s mum.

  Stealthy woman.

  I underestimated her ability to track me down so quickly. Not that she was. She probably hadn’t seen me. I was the paranoid psycho. Still, mental note for next time: check both ways around a corner before taking it full speed.

  ‘Mrs Taylor, hi,’ I smiled weakly, breathless and flushed.

  She rubbed my arm. ‘Aren’t you looking cute. I can’t believe it’s still this cold in the mornings at this time of the year.’

  ‘I know. It’s ridiculous.’ Don’t look guilty. Don’t show her your pink box.

  ‘I’m so glad you are wearing Roman’s presents. He spent all day looking for those, you know.’ Mrs Taylor stood back and admired the pink set, nodding her head.

  ‘What?’ Strings tugged at my heart. I rubbed beneath my collarbone absent-mindedly.

  ‘Yes. He saw how much you loved them at the markets the day we met you and your dad, and he searched for them in every shopping centre he could find on your birthday.’

  ‘I never knew.’ Suddenly my heart beat faster, thinking about the day at the markets … the night of my birthday … p.s. I remembered.

  She was still talking. ‘Of course you wouldn’t. It’s not like Roman to spill his guts on everything. He likes to keep a level of mystery about him, and as a mother, I find it incredibly annoying.’

  ‘I bet.’ You deserve everything that is good and pure.

  In her trolley a pink and red wrapper drew my attention. Not wanting to be rude at inspecting her shopping, I flicked my eyes while I thought she wasn’t watching to see a familiar packet of Redskins. Everything about the packet was the same as usual, except the design on the front had been re-done in a more modern style. How I wish that could happen to me. I’m so glad I know you and can be called your best friend.

  She saw me. ‘Ahh, yes. I have my marching orders to make sure I don’t forget the most important item on the shopping list. That boy’s teeth will fall out, although Anya didn’t help, what with all that Swedish chocolate she left him before she went home.’ She laughed, eyes bright at the talk of her only boy.

  ‘She went home?’ Curiosity burned at the base of my neck.

  ‘A month or so ago. It was unexpected, but she chose not to renew her visa. I don’t know why, but maybe she didn’t think Roman was suitable for her? Crazy girl.’ I miss you.

  ‘Definitely crazy,’ I mumbled, head racing a million miles an hour. I wish you all the very best things in life.

  ‘You didn’t know all this?’

  I shrugged. ‘Uh no, we’ve been busy.’

  ‘Of course. Anyway darl, I�
�d better let you go. Your face is getting pink. Don’t overheat in here in your layers,’ she giggled, grabbing hold of her trolley with both hands once again.

  ‘I won’t. Bye, Mrs Taylor.’ A ‘rabbit in the headlights’ feeling overtook me. I missed my best friend.

  ‘Oh wait. Before you go. You have to come over to our house again in the next week or two. We haven’t had you over for dinner for so long, and frankly, the place is getting too quiet for my liking. I know Roman would like your company. He spends most of his time moping.’ Moping about what?

  Fat chance he’d like to see me, right? ‘Oh. Sounds good. I’m still busy at school, but …’

  ‘Good. I’ll call you.’ She waved and moved on to the fruit and vegetables section, as I made a beeline to the nearest register to escape in case I bumped into anyone else and promised ridiculous things to them that I didn’t mean.

  ‘When you think about it, this could be the perfect opportunity for you to patch things up with Roman. Kiss and make up. Don’t you think?’ Sarah said confidently, raising her voice above the rushing river noise of washing her hands.

  ‘Shh. Keep your voice down, will you?’ I whispered in the echoing bathroom. ‘You never know who is in here. I don’t want the whole world knowing how I feel about Roman.’

  The disabled toilet door in the corner opened, seemingly automatically. Surreal. I’d forgotten it existed. I didn’t consider the idea that girls might want to use the toilet to have more legroom. Smoking room. Kissing room. Changing room. Anything apart from the ignorance I felt right now.

  Fear blinded my eyes for a second as I watched Skye flatten her tartan skirt casually and prepare to wash her hands at the basin.

  Sarah stifled a smirk as I glared at her. This was terrible. The worst thing that could happen.

  Skye glanced up at us in the mirror, eyebrows raised. ‘Oh, don’t let me interrupt you, girls. I’m dying to hear what you have to say next. Is Sarah a lesbian? Maybe have crabs? Or are you just going to pretend to deny what I knew was happening all along? You act like you have a broken heart over Nate, school captain, but I always knew you wanted Roman.’

  I stared at Skye, surprised at her perception. If this wasn’t a new trend, I’d have to pray she wouldn’t scream what she’d heard from the rooftops. Or psycho-analyse me. I imagined it would be around school by lunchtime. Or recess, if she made a special effort.