CHAPTER 50
‘Excuse me,’ I say to Arabella.
The sun is higher now but in the shadows of the sandstone cloisters, Archie’s eyes are impenetrably dark. His cheeks are freshly shaven. The brown stain on my trousers is momentarily forgotten.
‘Millsy, hi,’ exclaims Kristina, noticing me approach. Her heart-shaped face is beautifully framed by the blonde tendrils escaping her high ponytail. ‘I’m so glad to finally meet you. Archie told me you’d be here. I’ve heard so much about you.’
She smiles and I smile back helplessly.
We’ve never properly met before and, crestfallen, I realise that she’s a person who doesn’t get awkward when there haven’t yet been formal introductions; she skips straight to friendship. Already, I know she’s a much better person than me.
‘Great to meet you too,’ I reply. My face feels numb. ‘Did you come to watch the press conference?’
Kristina laughs before she speaks. ‘Oh no. I hate politics. No, I need to study for exams. Archie suggested I should practise my rooting.’
I almost choke. What?
‘Writing!’ Kristina corrects herself with a smile. ‘I need to improve my writing. And my pronunciation, evidently.’
‘The library is through the archway and down the stairs,’ says Archie stiffly.
I’m still too rattled to offer anything more than a weak grimace.
As Kristina waves goodbye and strolls towards the library, I call after her, trying to atone for my previous lack of interpersonal skills. ‘The library cafe has good coffee. And they have really good buns,’ I add. ‘Like, literal buns. Jam ones. Not … you know …’
Oh far out. I try not to look at Archie in my periphery.
‘She’s nice,’ I mutter, staring at the grass.
Archie says nothing.
I start nodding, trying to work up the courage to give them my blessing. Not that they need it or want it, but if I do, I might be able to convince myself I have some control over the situation.
I grind out the words, ‘You look good together.’
Archie looks at me sharply. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You and Kristina. You make a good couple.’
‘What are you talking about?’
It feels very uncouth to be discussing this in public, but the cameramen are going to arrive soon. I don’t have time to be couth!
‘I don’t care that you’re sleeping together.’
Archie rattles his head. ‘You don’t … What?’
‘Okay,’ I confess, throwing my hands in the air. ‘I care a little bit.’
Archie looks flummoxed. ‘I’m so confused.’
‘Okay, a lot!’ I bleat. ‘Is that what you want me to say? Fine, you’ve won. I had a spew in a car park and realised I missed your presence because it has become overly familiar to me.’
Okay. Seems my brain went with Option A.
Archie’s expression is unreadable and I wish it wasn’t so dark in these shadows because I can’t make out what he’s thinking. Does he assume I’m insane? Probably. But that’s nothing new.
‘Kristina stayed the night,’ he says quietly.
It’s fine, I tell myself. Finefinefinefine.
I encouraged him to go out with her and now he’s sealed the hot Norwegian deal.
Stars start flashing before my eyes. If I collapse right now, my head will hit sandstone and my skull might explode, but that’s okay because I’m pretty sure that’ll be better than imploding from this stifling panic.
There’ll be less internal bleeding this way.
Archie sighs. ‘It was a favour for Tyler. No one else has a spare room and she needed a place to stay between share houses. She’s moving into a new one tonight. I’m driving her there after the press conference.’
‘Oh,’ I say meekly, my vision slowly coming back into focus. ‘So nothing happened?’
‘Nothing,’ he repeats. ‘Why?’
‘Because …’ Oh god, I hadn’t planned to do this now. I should have prepared talking points. Or a dossier. Or at least a tweet. But I could never sum up the shambolic contents of my brain in 140 characters.
‘Because … I didn’t want you to sleep with her, because …’ Oh fuckity duck in a fucking duck hut. ‘Because I like you, Archie. I really like you, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realise but …’ My voice wobbles before I can stop it. ‘I haven’t been okay.’
The sentence materialises as if from alphabet soup in my mind, the collection of letters bobbing to the surface to communicate the message I hadn’t fully understood before I said it out loud. I haven’t been okay.
I’m not trying to make excuses, I’m attempting to explain myself. For so long, not coping felt like the selfish option. Now I can see that bottling up my feelings didn’t help anyone. I tell myself again—I haven’t been okay—and instead of shame and embarrassment, I feel only a lucid wash of relief.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot, Archie, but I think you’re clever and funny and kind and you’re really special to me. I trust you more than anyone.’
I hold out my palms in surrender. I’m not hiding secret guns and pocket spears; there’s no shoe phone under these heels. It’s just me. I’ve got nothing but my words, and I’m laying down my arms. I’m defenceless.
Archie stares at me, his body immobile except for the rise and fall of his chest. ‘No,’ he says finally, shaking his head.
‘I don’t want to be this guy. I don’t want to be the one you only turn to when things go to shit.
Don’t get me wrong, Millsy, I’ll always be there for you, always, but I want to be there for the good times as well. ’
‘I want that too,’ I insist.
‘That’s my point,’ Archie interrupts, sadly. ‘I’ve been here the whole time. If the thing in Wagga hadn’t happened, you’d still prefer to hang out with your boss rather than me.’
I shake my head desperately. ‘Archie, no.’ I don’t want him to talk like this.
Boss, Bryan, everyone else is tepid bathwater, but Archie …
he’s the ocean. He’s deep and vast and light and dark; he’s the sparkle and the tide.
He’s been judged his whole life and assumed to be someone he’s not, but I know the real him and that’s a privilege and I should have told him every day how lucky that makes me, but I didn’t.
I feel so stupid I want to facepalm myself, but Arabella is just over there, so I need to hold it together.
Archie takes a step towards me and puts his hand on my cheek.
‘I’m sorry, Millsy,’ he says quietly, ‘but after everything that’s happened, if you’re still here for him, doing this …
’ He angles his head to the left and I don’t know if he’s pointing to the quadrangle, or the lectern, or our old campus home down the road.
‘I could come second to Bryan. I was happy to wait. But I won’t come second to your boss. ’
I feel tears spring in the corners of my eyes. I should shove his hand away in case Arabella sees but instead I tilt my head closer, as though I’m a flower and he’s the sun.
Archie’s the guy I thought would never back down from anything but now he’s taking himself out of the race.
I want to tell him that I’m not here for Boss anymore, that I’m here for me, but before I can speak, a booming voice rings out from behind the jacaranda tree.
‘Where’s the girl who saved the press conference? ’
I close my eyes and move Archie’s hand away, feeling a fat tear roll down my cheek.
Roughly, I wipe my palm across my face and turn towards Boss. ‘Here I am,’ I say, emerging from the shadows and forcing a smile in his direction. ‘Everything’s ready to go.’