Chapter Seven #2
The bed was more comfortable than I’d expected.
It had that crinkly feel you get when you’re lying on a mattress that’s covered in plastic.
But that was a good thing; with the number of bodies that had slept on it before me, I was grateful for the fact that the surface could be wiped down and it wasn’t a sponge of urine, perspiration and – probably – semen.
The beds were made up with fresh-smelling sheets, doonas and pillows.
The effect was homely. If I’d had to share a room with Felix, I would truly have stolen the keys to the minibus and driven myself home.
Losing my job. Losing my sanity. So, while the fact that I was now sharing with Abel was completely ridiculous, it was less likely to result in my being on fortnightly Centrelink payments.
I could hear the voices of happy course participants in the adjoining rooms. They all seemed friendly and well meaning.
And like normal people, they had normal social skills and this whole thing would be a fabulous experience for them.
They’d bond over shit coffee and weird woollen beanies.
Someone would wheel out the Stone’s Green Ginger Wine and a guitar would appear.
I envied how carefree other people could be – they made life look so easy.
But that wasn’t how things were for me. If I didn’t have everything held tightly in my grasp, the balls would drop, one after another until they were all rolling in different directions and I’d be scrambling.
Which was similar to how I was beginning to feel now.
I needed to get myself back together. I needed to get control of this situation. Of myself.
I reached absentmindedly for my phone to check if there were any calls or messages from Mum or Ebony, before remembering that of course there wouldn’t be: I was hours away from reception.
I’d checked in with both of them before I’d left and Ebony had needed to assure me at least three times that it was no big deal.
She’d be fine. They’d all be fine. But the feeling of being unreachable for most of a week was unsettling.
In an emergency, they’d be able to call us on the satellite phone.
Anything between ‘all is well’ and an emergency would just have to wait until I got back.
I contemplated getting my laptop out to study but there were only a few minutes before we were meeting for the climbing shitshow.
I felt a little flutter of anxiety in my belly at not being able to make any progress today.
My final exams were three months away. I had been tracking well, but my life’s latest hiccup had not been part of the plan.
Vivian’s ‘Granny Flat’ and wind chimes had not been part of the fucking plan.
My focus was usually razor sharp and it was getting all fuzzy around the edges, making me worry about Mum and Ebony more.
Making me ruminate on how I’d managed to let Felix screw me around so many times.
Making me study the forearm musculature of my colleague.
Agh!
It was unusual for me to be idle, even for a few minutes, unless I was lying in bed, sleeplessly tossing and turning.
Every other moment of downtime I’d fill with exercise or study or cleaning.
To be lying on a bed in the middle of the day doing absolutely nothing was extremely odd.
And not particularly helpful – it made all the problems in my life seem louder and more suffocating.
But nothing could be gained right now by worrying. Except the housing situation. That was fixable and I needed to keep on the ball. I pulled out my phone again, preparing to look at the latest Gumtree rentals.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ I cursed, remembering the lack of mobile reception, and slammed the phone on the bed.
I turned on my side and curled up in a ball.
My eyes landed on Abel’s bag: a black hiking pack with a Kathmandu logo on the top.
It was worn and well used and kind of looked like him: tough, practical.
Aesthetically pleasing in its proportions.
Oh, Jesus. Was I appraising the attractiveness of a backpack?
And why was I suddenly seeing this man (and his backpack) as attractive anyway?
He was a grump. He hated me. I had made a fool of myself in his presence more times than I could count.
And I had no interest in men anyway.
My focus moved to his bed and my stomach flipped afresh at the realisation that I was going to be sleeping next to this man tonight. A shameful, impossible situation.
On his bed was a day bag. Navy blue. Outdoorsy. Clips and straps. That kind of thing. One back zip was open and I could see a brown leather-covered book in there. It had the look of a journal or notebook or some such. Intriguing.
This is probably why I didn’t do idle time.
Because I was staring at the brown leather book and my whole body wanted to take it out and open it and find out what was within its pages.
I wouldn’t do something like that, of course.
But I was consumed by the temptation. What on earth would a practical man-giant such as Abel do with a brown leather notebook?
Write about his day? Rant about the people he despised and how he planned to make their lives miserable? Compose hate poetry perhaps?
Fascinating.
Without realising, I had sat up and moved across the room.
I wouldn’t touch anything, obviously, but I was peering into the bag, seeing if the edges of the book would give me any clues as to its contents, and in that unfortunate position – stooped over, neck craned, clearly snooping – the door flung open and in walked Abel.
I jumped and pointed to the backpack. ‘There was a spider on your bag.’
He quirked a very unconvinced eyebrow and I wondered for the twentieth time that day how I’d come to repeatedly embarrass myself in front of this man.
‘Okay. And where is the spider now?’
‘I’m not sure. Maybe inside the bag?’ I tried not to think about how very poor his opinion of me must be. Intruding in his nice little cabin. Not listening to instructions. Having weird conversations about vibrators. Snooping.
We stood there for what felt like an awkward eternity.
I didn’t know what to say.
The room suddenly felt very small. Abel was a large man. I was standing in a small cabin with a large man who was staring at me. Hot flush, here we go.
‘So. Uh. What’s next?’
‘Climbing. You ready?’
‘Not really.’
‘You’ll be fine. Come on.’