Chapter Two

GEORGINA

 

 

I’d stormed out of hospital so brave, but it all fell apart when I got home, and walked into the space Julie used to share with me, used to live in. I stumbled into her bedroom, and crawled into her bed, under the sheets printed with flying chibi kittens. I stared at the posters of her favorite sci-fi show’s spaceship schematics through eyes blurred with tears. I wished we’d watched those shows together. I wished we still could.

Emptiness hung in all corners of the house: on the lounge where we’d shared chocolate for breakfast, at the kitchen counter where we’d smiled at each other over the rims of our coffee mugs.

The loneliness of the space accentuated my separation from Blake. I already missed him with an intensity like a drill to the brain. I indulged in everything I shouldn’t. I dug up the T-shirt he’d given me to wear that first night and put it on, clinging to the feel of it as though I were clinging to him.

I curled up with Julie’s plushy collection, scrolling through Blake’s long-abandoned Instasnap account.

It really was him, and he really was with Seyvia before she died. The photos were still there, confirming it, despite the account having no new photos added for years. Not a single post since the day Seyvia died.

Almost every photo in the account was of him with her, as though they’d been inseparable. Photos on glossy yachts, photos backstage under the glow of the spotlights, photos partying with other celebrities, photos from rehearsals. Always Blake and Seyvia together. Maybe it was just a PR thing, but the love I saw in his eyes as they posed for selfies, as she watched the camera and he watched her, was clear. There was nothing staged there.

As I scrolled through, I could also see a deep concern in Blake’s eyes, wrinkling his brow ever so slightly as he looked at Seyvia, and as her own gaze lost focus more and more. She seemed downright out of it in some of the shots.

I didn’t know the exact details of what had happened, but I remembered the headlines: Teen Popstar Dead from Overdose.

Had he known she had a problem? Had he tried to do something to help her?

He must have. The Blake I knew would have.

To try, and to fail, with the result being such a tragedy … to lose the one he loved most …

My head spun. A black hole of pain opened up, sucking all lucid thought into it.

I slept through my despair.

Time blurred and passed. I stirred from my grieving slumber only when the phone rang. So many calls, but none were the one I wanted. It had only been a day since I’d been tested, and they’d told me there would be a two-to-three-day window for getting results. I still expected every call to be them, and my heart jumped into my throat every time the phone pinged.

I let all calls go through to voicemail, so I could listen without responding. Talking was too hard.

I listened to a message from Dad. “Hey honey. Just checking if the hospital got in touch yet? They seem to be taking a long time. Call me as soon as you hear from them and I’ll go in with you to get the results.”

It was the third message he’d left with almost the same wording. I’d told him I’d been tested earlier than I really had, because I didn’t want him to know I’d put it off for so long, but doing that only succeeded in making him even more worried. I do everything wrong.

Next call came from an unknown number.

I listened to the voicemail. “Hi Georgina. Julie’s mum here. Is it okay if we come by tomorrow? We want to … clear up … collect Julie’s …” There was a long pause, a whispered sob. “You can text me, if it’s okay. We have a key. Thanks.”

The pain in her voice made tears stream from my eyes. I could barely see my screen when I texted her back, “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. 

Blake called a lot. I’d deleted him from my contacts, but knew the number when it flashed on my phone screen. I didn’t answer. He didn’t leave messages. 

Day bled into night and a new morning came.

Julie’s family arrived. I answered the door, staring at them red-eyed and speechless. Her mother, father, and sister stared back at me, their arms filled with flattened moving boxes and plastic bags.

I let them in and left them to do what they needed to do, closing myself in my room to weep. I heard them through the walls, talking and crying as they packed. I hid from their grief like a coward. I felt like an imposter, my sadness an intrusion into their true loss.

I wanted to help them, but I wasn’t strong enough. Julie was gone, and knowing what her family must be going through made me feel like I could rot away entirely and leave nothing behind but a sad shade of blue.

The sounds of packing and loading out ended, and there was a timid knock at my door. I dragged myself out of bed, and Julie’s mother stood there, her face red and puffy.

She held a narwhal plushy and pressed it into my chest without a word. I wrapped my arms around it, unable to blink fast enough to stop my tears. Julie’s mom nodded silently, then left, and that soft, ridiculously cute sea animal was all I had left of my friend.

I cuddled it to me as I curled up on the lounge, and no call came from the hospital.

I didn’t know if I wanted or didn’t want that call. When the hospital rang and it was time to go in for my results, that would be the beginning of the end. I didn’t even consider that the results could be good news. Good news seemed so implausible to me right now.

When it came to options I was wavering, torn between wanting to live and not wanting to go through the awful treatment again, feeling as though that suffering would be pointless anyway. The determination The List had given me to burn myself out in lustful life until it was over had vanished. I wanted more than just physical pleasure, and that was due to Blake. I wanted to be with him, and to love him forever—the exact reason why I had to let him go. Forever is supposed to be a long time—how could I promise him that? How could I give him a love that was doomed to end tragically after what he’d already been through?

Blake and Julie had been my anchors in the sea of all my confusion and fear. Without them my thoughts flung violently against the rocks of total despair. My world had been smashed to pieces and put back together all wrong.

My only option to stay sane was to keep busy. I decided that I’d just go on with normal day-to -day life until I no longer could.

On the third day, I started going back to classes.

The weather had turned, and a strong, chilled breeze blew straight through the light cardigan I wore. Heavy clouds hung low with the threat of rain, or impending doom. It was almost enough to send me home seeking warmth, but I moved on, determined not to give up.

I managed to make it through the whole day without breaking down. It amazed me how the whole world just went on being normal, as though nothing had changed. It almost made me feel normal too. Almost okay. Almost not completely broken and decaying.

As my last lecture ended I checked the time. Julie’s class would be over soon too and—

Julie wasn’t in class. Julie wasn’t going to be home soon. Julie will never be home.

I knew if I went home alone tonight, all I’d have was the hard battle against crushing loneliness and mortality. I’d have to fight the temptation to call Blake, to go to him and beg him to take me back.

I considered going to the library, to find some quiet corner to study in, but on the way I saw a poster up for Student Happy Hour at the bar just around the corner.

I wasn’t sure there’d be much happy about it, but a drink sounded good.

Inside, ‘The Cornerstone’ was decked out like an Irish pub and crowded with students.

I kept my eyes down, kept to myself, but as I moved through to the bar I couldn’t help notice that I was turning heads. Maybe they’d heard the news about the girls in the car crash and were looking at me out of sympathy?

That was the voice of the old Georgina, always discounting any idea that she could be attractive. The looks I was receiving weren’t looks of pity. I knew what those were too well. This was something else, something like the way Blake had eyed me when we flirted.

I bought the easiest and cheapest drink, a glass of house red, and settled into a threadbare vintage armchair in a warm corner.

I’d barely had a sip when a guy came and took the seat next to mine. He had the build of a football player, and pretty brown eyes that reminded me of a Basset Hound’s.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, after already getting comfortable.

I shrugged a vague acceptance.

“I’m sure I know you. Are you in my environmental design class?”

“No.”

“Architecture and Technology?”

I shook my head. “Sorry.”

“My dreams every night when I imagine the perfect woman?”

I giggled, and choked on my wine. “I’m doing a Visual Communication degree, but they haven’t yet taught us how to astrally project into someone’s sleeping mind.”

He flashed a disarming smile. He was cute, and the way he looked at me warmed me as much as the wine I drank.

He’s not Blake. The whisper came from deep inside me, unwanted.

“I’m Kevin,” he said, as though in answer.

“Georgie,” I replied.

“You like wine?”

“I like the warm, dulling effect of alcohol,” I said, in my best deadpan voice. I must have been channeling Julie.

“I’ll get you another.”

All the well-established alarms about keeping an eye on my drink went off inside me, but Kevin returned with a full, unopened bottle and two clean glasses. He poured for both of us.

The wine was dark, almost purple. It tasted faintly of olives and cured meat, yet with a sweet and mellow aftertaste. It was potent and burned a trail right into my belly, a fire of life, burning memories of my pain away.

“Thanks. I needed this.”

Kevin shuffled his armchair closer to mine.

I managed to keep up a steady stream of flirty conversation. Before my list, I had been awkward and insecure. The List had made me braver after all. And The List still haunted me. It still had two items on it that hadn’t been crossed off. As much as I wanted to leave it behind, that incompletion gnawed at me. Maybe I could try again. Maybe Kevin could help me.

He could also be a nice distraction, to keep my mind off Blake and … other things. Maybe I could have casual relationships without hurting anyone, as long as that was clear at the outset. If things started to feel even remotely serious, I could stop them in their tracks. If I could cut a relationship off with Blake, I could do it with anyone.

Kevin ordered us food and we ate pulled pork burgers and spicy fries. My smile grew genuine and the bottle of wine grew empty. We tumbled out into the cool evening air together and wandered slowly back toward the campus.

Kevin caught my hand in his. “My roommate’s out late tonight.”

He pulled me in close and when he kissed me, his mouth tasted of Shiraz and salt. His tongue was gentle and his lips were soft. He put his hands on my shoulders then dropped them right down to my breasts. It happened so fast that it almost felt accidental, but his firm grasp let me know he had planned it and liked his hands where they were.

I felt nothing at all—no tingles, no rising warmth in my chest, nothing.

I couldn’t enjoy this. I couldn’t enjoy anything. Not now.

I gently pushed him away.

He took the cue, stepping back and giving me space. I was immensely glad he wasn’t the type to fight a refusal.

He said, “Sorry. Maybe I overdid it a little with the wine. Went straight to my head, and, ahh, other places that might be making me a bit frisky.”

“It’s okay. I’m just … It’s not a good time.”

“I swear I don’t normally move this fast.” He held up his hands innocently. “We can go slow if you want, get to know each other more. Maybe we could hang out tomorrow?”

I put my face in my hands, laughing into them and shaking my head at the absurdity of my life. “Slow isn’t what I want. If anything, I want quick and casual. Before anything else happens, I have to make it clear that I don’t want a relationship.”

Kevin looked letdown, and then excited, all within the one breath. “So, friends with benefits?”

“Maybe just the benefits part. Sometimes. I don’t know. I’m not ready to be with anyone right now. Not tonight.”

He nodded. I fumbled in my bag for my car keys.

“You’re not driving, are you?”

I’d thought about leaving my car there overnight but didn’t want to walk home alone. “I live off campus. It’s a decent walk.”

“I’ll walk you.” He seemed to gauge my reaction. “Just walk you. Really.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah. You’ve offered me future benefits. I’m not going to blow that.”

I let him escort me, grateful to have someone beside me through the darkness. We talked about everything and nothing. When we reached my front door, he moved to kiss me again. A single, soft kiss. “Just let me know when and how and what you want, and I’ll be there.”

I went inside, closed the door then leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. The dam burst. Tears poured from my eyes as though they’d been waiting to escape all night. I cried myself to sleep there at the front door.

I was woken by knocking. I squinted at the morning light, disoriented. Bedraggled, aching, and half asleep, I opened the door to a courier, delivering a dozen bright and fragrant roses. They were sunset toned, a cheerful yellow fading into the richest golds and scarlet reds. I took the blooms from the delivery woman, and buried my face in them, inhaling deeply. They were an old-fashioned variety with a sweet scent as dizzying as their color.

Nobody had ever sent me flowers before—when I wasn’t in hospital.

There was no card. Could they have been from Kevin, or maybe Blake? I loved them regardless. They brightened my day and made me feel special and wanted.

If only I was certain I had a lifetime to spend with someone who wanted me, and that I wasn’t going to wilt and die as quickly as these flowers.