So Much to Learn (2 page)

Brad and I had been officially an item for about five months
at the party in question, and so I was feeling pretty good when I
rocked up on Brad's arm that night, confident on having a good
time. The evening had passed in a blur of dancing and chatter,
although the blur hadn’t been alcohol induced on my part. I'm not a
huge drinker in large groups, after a rather unfortunate incident
with a guy at a friend's 16
^th
, I preferred to keep my
head at parties.

At a little
after 3 in the morning I was beginning to droop and I headed
upstairs to try and find Brad to tell him I was off. My brother was
going to give me a lift so Brad didn't have to leave if he didn't
want to. I found my boyfriend coming out of the bathroom upstairs
smelling very strongly of beer. He slung an arm around my shoulders
and steered me into one of the bedrooms talking loudly in my ear
about what a good time he was having. I laughingly allowed him to
prattle on, ignoring the steadily increasing pressure of his arm
around me. Slowly, though, his attitude changed and he had begun
backing me towards the bed. My legs hit the edge and I fell
backwards onto the mattress at which point Brad climbed on top of
me.

Enjoying the
attention, I had let him kiss me, ignoring the sour taste of ale
and that I wasn't really comfortable making out with him where
anyone could walk in. However, once I realised that the hand that
wasn't sweetly caressing my face was undoing the buttons on my top,
my mood changed abruptly. I broke my lips free from his and pushed
him off of me without any warning so he toppled to the floor where
he had looked up at me, balefully.

"What was
that?"

"Not here
Brad," I said curtly, closing my top and getting off the bed.

"Not here, not
anywhere," he’d grunted. "My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen,
harder to get into than the best restaurant in town."

"I've told you
I'm not ready to have sex with you yet," I said with dignity. "And
my first time certainly won't be upstairs at one of Rory Murragh's
parties."

"I won't wait
forever you know. There are plenty of other girls prepared to do
the business with me even if you're not," Brad had mumbled into the
carpet, already looking as if he was about to fall asleep.

Stung, I had
left the room in a hurry, running into my brother, Matt, in the
corridor. He had come looking for me and wasn't very impressed to
find me upstairs in the designated 'for couples only' area. Older
brothers. What can you do?

Anyway, Brad
had been profusely apologetic the next day, doing everything up to
and including getting down onto his knees and begging for my
forgiveness, and like the idiot that I am, I had let the incident
slide. It was only one time in six months and I’d believed he was
truly sorry.

So the fact
that he was bringing up that night, when he'd promised that it had
been nothing but drunken idiocy, really, really hurt.

"You knew the
deal early on, Brad," I spat. "I told you when we first started
dating that I wasn't going to just jump in bed with you."

"Yeah, but I
didn't realise the embargo was going to last for the entire time we
were going out. Are you waiting until you're married or something?
What's wrong with you?"

"Yeah, because your attitude right now is making me
feel
so
stupid for
not sleeping with you the first chance I got," I said
sarcastically, beginning to feel a little sick.

The problem was that he was cutting a bit close to home. I
didn't
know
what
was wrong with me. I'd just never felt that comfortable with the
physical part of relationships.

Maybe it was
having a protective older brother, or left over psychological
damage from my run in with the guy at that party where I’d ended up
in a bad situation, that made me how I was. I didn't know, but
every time action with a guy went further than a kiss, I became
tense and uncomfortable. Being with Brad, who had seemed so
understanding, had quieted my fears about being a prudish freak,
but all my insecurities were back with a vengeance now.

"You can be as
bitchy as you like, babe, but the truth is that you're never going
to be able to hold a boyfriend for long if you can't put out a
little more…actually a lot more," he continued cruelly, perhaps
sensing he had the advantage.

"When did you
become such an arsehole?" I snapped, my eyes filling with unwanted
tears. "I can't believe I didn't notice what a wanker you are until
now. Honestly, Allison and the other girls can have you and
welcome!"

I stormed out
of his bedroom and back down the corridor, realising almost
immediately that he was following me and that he had morphed back
into caring, sensitive Brad.

"Talia, baby,
I'm so sorry I didn't mean it. I'm prepared to wait, I really
am."

Grabbing my
backpack, I wrenched the door open and only waited long enough to
shout, "Oh rack off and die!" Before beating a hasty retreat down
the path and to my car.

I could only
drive a couple of kilometres before I had to pull over to the side
of the road because my tears were obscuring my vision too much to
drive safely. Turning off the engine, I put my feet up on the seat
and, wrapping my arms around my legs, sobbed against the denim of
my jeans.

A little while
passed with me in this state, and it was only when I could feel the
tears that had seeped through the fabric becoming cold against my
skin that I realised I had stopped crying. Reaching into my bag for
a tissue I cleaned myself up and sat back feeling completely
drained. What a day. I knew I hated Wednesdays for a reason.

Replaying Brad's cutting words over and over in my head made a
few more tears beat a hasty retreat out of my eyes, but it was
having another effect too. I was becoming very angry.
Furious
in fact. And not,
as you might expect, at Brad. No, I was angry with myself. How long
had Brad been playing me for a fool? How long had I let myself
think he was the perfect bloke for me? How long had I let my fear
of physical relationships stop me from living life to the fullest
extent?

The last
question was causing me the most upset and I turned the problem
this way and that in my head trying to figure out how I could
overcome it. Only an hour or so ago the obvious answer would have
been to let myself ‘go all the way’ with Brad and be done with it,
but that was not an option now and, anyway, I still baulked at the
idea of doing it just to make someone else happy.

Suddenly, like
a bloody great lightning bolt, the answer came thundering into my
head. I couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to me before! What I
needed was someone to teach me about those parts of a relationship
that I had such trouble with. Someone who cared enough about me to
understand my plight and who would be considerate and patient with
me. Someone who was like a brother, but clearly not my brother
(ewgh!) and I knew just the person.

I turned the
car back on and slammed it into first gear. I raced home, smashing
the speed limit to pieces, but luckily not encountering any police
officers as I doubted they would have been entirely sympathetic to
my reasons for breaking the law. Whizzing my little car into my
parking space, I hurried across the asphalt towards the block of
flats I lived in and up the steps to my flat door. I had to wait
there for a moment as I fumbled in my bag for my keys, but,
eventually, I found them and I burst into the living room in an
explosion of urgency.

Throwing aside
my bag, I practically ran across the open plan living room/dining
room/kitchen area to where there were four closed doors. I flung
open the door second from the left and gasped, "Jack, I need
you!"

Before we get
to Jack's reaction to my sudden exclamation, I guess I need to sort
a few things out. Namely, who Jack is.

Explaining him
is pretty difficult, it's like being asked to describe a member of
your family or your best friend, you know them so well it seems
incredible that someone doesn't know their full story like you
do.

Jack, for
almost as long as I can remember, has always just been there. Like
the ugly lamp in the lounge room that remains part of the décor
year in and year out because no-one can be bothered getting rid of
it. OK, that's not very nice, Jack isn't the ugly lamp he's like…
the teddy bear you've had ever since you were a baby and which is
now tucked away in a box up in the attic. You don't need your teddy
every day, but it's still comforting to know it’s there if you need
it.

My brother met
Jack at Little Athletics when they were both 8. Jack was the first
person to ever beat Matt at anything, an event which I think was
very good for him. My brother, bless him, has a tendency to get a
big head about things and, if he's not watched, has an annoying
habit of surrounding himself with yes men and women who sing his
praises and generally inflate his already substantial ego. Matt has
two saving graces, though, the first is his ability to laugh at
himself and the second is his friendship with Jack.

Matt, after
watching in disbelief as the new kid smashed his high jump record,
went to congratulate Jack and, being the boys they were, they ended
up in a tussle in the mud, by the end of which they were best
friends. I don't pretend to understand the bonding rituals of guys,
all I know is that the strongest ties are usually formed after some
sort of violence has occurred. I remember asking when I was little
who had won the fight that had cemented their position as the
greatest of mates and receiving scornful looks in reply. Apparently
that wasn't the point of the exercise, maybe there wasn't a winner,
I don't know.

However, if I
had to guess who had won I wouldn't know which one to put my money
on. They are so evenly matched it is ridiculous. They are both big
buggers, height-wise, standing about a head over me, and they both
play on the University's football team, the Grove Rovers, so they
are pretty built. This is a purely clinical analysis, by the way,
clearly I don't check out Matt and Jack, but the fact that they are
tall and have footballers’ arms are obvious things that, as this is
an explanation, I don't feel should be left out.

Matt has
similar hair colouring to me, although his definitely leans more
towards the brown end of the scale, and his eyes are a sort of
light brown. He wears his hair in a shaggy pile which I would think
would be a disadvantage on the footy oval, but he doesn't seem to
mind. I think he tries to pass it off as a style, but I, and those
who know him well, know that it has ended up looking like that
because he's too lazy to do anything with it. Including
brushing.

Jack, however,
wears his dark brown hair quite short although he follows Matt's
example of not bothering to do much with it, letting it instead
stick up at all sorts of random angles. On special occasions he
uses gel to achieve…exactly the same effect so I don't know why he
bothers. His eyes are this amazing light blue and pretty
incredible. This is not to say I've spent time gazing adoringly at
his eyes or anything yucky like that, it's just that they are so
blue and piercing you'd have to be blind not to notice them.

Well honestly!
This is my brother and his best friend we're talking about! I'm not
going to describe them as good looking, they're not hideously
deformed and they seem to stack up the dates so they must be
passably good looking. What I think is really going on is a little
case of their personality corrupting their looks. You know when you
see a good-looking guy and then find out he's a complete jerk and
he suddenly 'looks' different? His features haven't changed, but
you start noticing all the faults and his personality has somehow
leaked onto his looks making him incredibly ugly. Matt and Jack are
the opposite of that guy. They're just good people and seem to
garner friends wherever they go. They're friendly and affable and
guys and girls are won over by their charm. Believe me, I've seen
it happen. Girls are only passably interested at the start of the
conversation, but, a few minutes later, they're completely
hooked.

If you're
thinking they're players then I've described them all wrong;
they're not characters from an American teen movie. For a start
they're 20 years old and, although incredibly immature in some
respects, are a bit more together when it comes to girls. They
don't treat them like dirt, but the whole dating thing is never
taken particularly seriously either.

Matt and I are
closer than any other siblings I know. That is not to say that we
are sickeningly good mates all the time, that would be bloody
ridiculous. Oh no, we fight as much as the next brother and sister,
but, underneath it all, we'd do absolutely anything for each other.
My relationship with Jack is harder to describe. He's been a
constant fixture in my life since I was six, a comforting and solid
presence, but not someone I really think that much about. I know
that sounds a bit dismissive, but that's the only way I can think
of describing him. Refer back to the teddy bear simile, if you
will...

Once the pair of them had turned eighteen, Matt and Jack had
moved into a flat together near the university and happily begun
their lives as popular, single, 'it' boys around campus. A couple
of years after that, however, before they'd become too cosy in
their bachelor pad, I finished grade 12 and began attending the
same university as them. The obvious thing to do, according to my
parents, was for me to move in with the boys. Bet they loved that
phone call! But, honestly, they were really good about the whole
thing and, in a couple of weeks, had moved all their junk out of
the third bedroom which they used as a storage/study/anything else
room, and hidden away all the porn. Well, that is to say, I
hadn't
found
any
porn yet, but I'm not naïve enough to assume it isn’t there
somewhere.