So Much to Learn (49 page)

My chest
started to ache as I tried to make sense of my emotions. Of course
a flash of happiness such as I had never experienced before had
erupted inside me at his confession but it had been immediately
followed by a crushing sense of sadness as I realised I could never
act upon what he'd told me. He had to make up with Matt and go to
England, neither of which occurrences were compatible with him
remaining in love with me.

I took a deep
breath and set about comprehensively breaking both our hearts.

"Well that's a
bit…inconvenient," I spluttered, thinking that was probably an
understatement up there with saying the Titanic had sprung a bit of
a leak.

"Inconvenient?"
Jack's voice was the epitome of disbelief and I clenched my fists
together hard so that my nails bit into my palms, wanting to
distract myself from his incredulity at my cruelty.

"Yes,
inconvenient," I snapped, providing an Oscar award winning
portrayal of 'uncaring bitch'. "There couldn't be a worse time for
you to say something like that and you know it."

Jack instantly
recoiled, releasing me from against the counter and stepping back a
couple of paces which, in terms of accessibility to him, was about
equivalent to him leaping across to the other side of the Grand
Canyon.

"I didn't plan this," he said stiffly. "And in terms of timing
I can't foresee a time when it would be
convenient
," he stressed the last
word, scorn fairly dripping from between his lips and, although
riling him up had been my intention, I had to suppress a very
strong urge to immediately apologise and throw myself into his
arms. Now more than ever was the time for me to grow up and stay
strong.

"Well maybe
that says a lot about our situation," I blundered on quickly as my
nose was tingling and I was getting a pressure headache that
suggested a whole tsunami of tears was just waiting to be
unleashed. "If you can't see a time when professions of love would
be appropriate then maybe they shouldn't be made at all."

Pain like a
whiplash shot through me as I said those words and, judging by his
expression, Jack had just experienced a similar wounding.

It's for your
own good! I wanted to yell. I'm doing this for you! But I knew he
wouldn't understand even if I told him. He'd probably make the
point that pets were sometimes put down 'for their own good' and
that he'd take his chances along the hard road.

"Right," Jack
spoke blandly and without emotion, his defence barriers, which I
had worked so long and hard to pull down, flying up again as he
gathered up his bags once more. "I guess that's it then."

"Jack-" I
didn't know what I was going to say, but I didn't want him to leave
like that, even at this stage I didn't want him thinking too badly
of me. But I didn't really get the chance to worry about what I was
going to say because he held up a hand to forestall me.

"Don't bother,
Natalia," he said crisply, his use of my full name obviously a
deliberate manifestation of the gulf I had opened up between us. "I
get it, I'm going and you won't have to worry about me bothering
you with inconvenient professions of love again."

And go he did,
striding across to the door and exiting through it without another
word or backward glance. I wondered whether there was some kind of
record for time it takes to get a guy to run from you in disgust
after telling you he loves you; if so, I was probably a contender
to win it.

I didn't move
for a couple of minutes after the door had slammed shut. His last
words, his cold expression, the useless, bloody unnecessary pain I
had caused him by starting this whole thing ran round and round my
mind making me feel physically sick. The wave of nausea when it hit
me was so strong I stumbled to the sink and retched into it,
bringing up the few mouthfuls of cheese sandwich I’d had with Adam
and then simply spitting out bitter bile when I had emptied my
stomach.

I remained bent
over the sink, clutching the edge of the counter, for a long while
after my stomach had settled back down, breathing deeply and
slowly. Eventually, however, I stirred and turned on the tap,
washing my face and mouth with such force it was almost as if I was
trying to wash the scum of the last few days off my skin. Once my
face was pink and raw from the freezing water, I turned and, in a
daze, set about putting the flat to rights, picking up the chairs
and the overturned table and rearranging them as they had been
before. Then I went across to where the phone lay in pieces on the
floor and gathered up the shards of plastic and inner components of
the receiver. Next I inspected the dent in the plaster from where
the phone had made contact with the wall and briefly considered the
effect it was going to have in our getting our bond back.

Our. What a
great word and how little it meant to me at that moment. I looked
around the flat, hugging myself tightly as all sorts of memories
flooded back to me. I remembered helping Jack and Matt move in and
seeing the small room and thinking fiercely that I only had to get
through two more years of high school and then that room would be
mine. I thought about all the visits I had made while I still lived
in Bridunna, and how much I’d hated leaving because the boys always
seemed to be having so much fun and I knew that home felt
ridiculously empty without them.

Then came the
memories of moving in, of loving feeling part of it all, part of
their lives once more. I had Matt and Jack, I had Simone, and then
I had Brad, life for those first six months really couldn't have
been much better. I wondered now how I hadn't appreciated every
minute of it. The frustrations at the boys’ slovenly ways or the
hordes of their mates that had always appeared just when I wanted
some peace and quiet seemed so inconsequential now.

Recollecting
all the great and no so great moments we'd all shared in the flat I
realised I wouldn’t even have been able to conceive the possibility
then that, by the end of my first year of living with the boys, I
would be standing alone having alienated them so thoroughly.

I was ready to
cry as I sunk down onto the couch realising that, until Matt
decided to forgive me, I was living alone. However, no wetness
appeared on my cheeks. The clogged-up, painful feeling of tears
building up behind my eyes was still present, but it was as if
something was blocking the way for them to gush out. I desperately
wanted to call my parents but I realised I didn't have any credit
on my mobile and the home phone was destroyed. This added example
of my isolation forced a little whimper out from between my lips
and then, clutching a cushion to me, I lay down on the couch and
closed my eyes against my lonely surroundings.

~*~

I awoke some
time later and was astonished to realise that I had fallen asleep
despite all the turmoil I was in. Then again maybe it wasn't that
extraordinary, after all sleep was a pretty good way to escape
unkind realities and often things looked better after a kip. Not
that that was the case this time, but at least I didn't feel as
wiped as I had before I'd had my nap.

The flat was
dark now and, looking towards the windows, I saw that the light was
that bluey-grey sort which washed over the land just before proper
night fell. Sitting up and looking at my watch I saw that it was
just after 6. I wondered what Matt and Jack were doing now and
found myself able to clearly picture them. Matt would no doubt be
in a pub somewhere acting as if nothing was wrong and being the
life of the party, he always became the entertainer when he was
troubled about something. Jack, however, was more likely to be
sitting in Tommo's lounge room creating an architectural model
using precise techniques and steady fingers. When he was upset he
preferred to bottle it all up inside and create an outward show of
control.

And here I was,
crumpled and disorientated after sleeping through the afternoon and
confused about what was supposed to happen next. I took a deep,
steadying breath and got up off the couch. One thing was sure, I
wasn't moping about in the empty flat for the rest of the evening,
that would be more than I could bear.

I headed to the
bathroom where I stripped off, got into the shower and turned the
hot water on so high that my skin reddened instantly and I could
feel the heat seeping through into my bones.

Emerging
several minutes later in a billow of steam I strode across to the
wardrobe and got dressed in my most va-va-voom outfit, a denim
miniskirt paired with a camisole top which was little more than a
scrap of lilac silk valiantly trying to cover all I had to show.
Coupled with a brown leather belt with an ornate silver clasp and
the strappy shoes which had been my downfall (literally) on my date
with Jack, I was satisfied that I looked sufficiently unlike
myself. Next I blow dried my hair into a halo of goldy-brown around
my head and plaited back two front sections into a sort of medieval
hair style before hauling out my make up case. I applied double the
amount I usually would, focusing on my eyes until they were ablaze
in a sparkle of subtle purple and silver which, in that random way
that colours work, brought out the green in my eyes.

I stood in
front of the full length mirror as I added the finishing touches of
a pair of dangling silver earrings and a slim silver chain which
fastened at the hollow of my neck and then continued down so the
end dangled just above my cleavage, emphasising how low cut my top
was. Meeting my gaze in the mirror I saw that I didn't look a thing
like myself, I was projecting the image of a stranger, a fairly
scantily dressed stranger come to that.

Perfect.

I didn't want
to be myself that night, I wanted to be a confident, attractive
stranger who didn't care about consequences or what would happen in
the future. Tossing back my hair and grabbing my little clutch bag
which held no more than my keys, wallet and my, admittedly fairly
useless since it had no credit, mobile I stalked out of the
flat.

I was going out
on the town.

~*~

Wow!

Life sure was a lot easier when you were a sluttishly dressed
stranger with a steely glint in your eye. People in packed bars
moved for you, stools were suddenly free and rarely did you have to
pay for your own drinks. I didn't shrink into corners as I might
have done in the past, I deliberately placed myself where everyone
could see me and guys seemed to flock. It was fascinating to
realise that any girl can basically pick up a guy if she wanted,
but also fascinating was wondering who the hell would
want
these guys? Short
skirt, low cut top and alone seem to be the three criterion most
attractive to sleazy try-hards but they didn't bother me that
night. In fact it began to be fun inventing cutting put downs for
the worst ones or harmlessly flirting with the least creepy
ones.

There was that
sense of power again, strong and intoxicating…about as strong and
intoxicating as the drinks I was downing as if the Prime Minister
was suddenly about to announce a prohibition.

Several hours
later and almost as many bars down I found myself in the uni bar
still in dazzling form and holding court over six or so guys who I
had collected as I had bar hopped all over town. We were all
talking and laughing loudly and, for the first time in a long time,
the combination of alcohol and lavish attention from my new friends
was making me feel invincible.

I did wonder, as the drinks kept magically materialising,
whether I was perhaps getting a little
too
drunk but, in one of those catch
22 situations, I was too drunk to worry about it.

By about
midnight I was properly sloshed; all cognitive ability had
completely fled. So, apparently, had my ability to stand as, when I
got off my stool to go to the loo, I fell straight to the floor
with a loud shriek of surprise. Legs akimbo and with a faint
throbbing of my tail bone from my ungraceful descent I howled with
laughter and heard all my new friends join in.

"Whoops!" I
slurred, trying to get up and finding that my legs buckled
underneath me once more. "Help me!" I reached my arms up and waited
for someone to lend me a hand.

I didn't have
to wait long as, the next moment, strong hands gripped mine and I
found myself being hauled to my feet. As I staggered on my
tottering legs and high heels, a strong arm grabbed me around the
waist, holding me upright. For one blinding, hopeful second I
thought that Jack had come to find me, but as I further inspected
the arm that was holding me, I realised, through my foggy brain,
that the skin was too fair and the arm hair too light. It was,
therefore, only a little surprise when I looked up at my rescuer
and saw Adam's anxious face looking back at me.

"Adam!" I
squealed enthusiastically throwing my arms around his neck. "Look
everyone," I pulled away and looked round at all the faces which
were becoming a bit of a blur, "it's my friend Adam!"

"Talia, are you
OK?" Adam asked, sending my new friends what I considered a rather
unnecessarily cross look.

"Fine!"
Everything I'd said for the past hour or so had needed exclamation
marks.

"Really?"
Adam's voice was very sceptical. "How about we get you home now
anyway? Just in case you're not as fine as you think you are. Is
that your bag?" He pointed towards my little bag which was sitting
on the bar and I nodded before deciding that nodding was a bad idea
as a strange whooshing filled my head when I did.

"Yep thash
mine," I agreed drunkenly, "but I don't wanna go yet."

"Yeah," the
gang around me agreed.