34
Boredom is slowly turning my mind to mush.
I try to name all of the seven dwarves in the hopes that it will keep me awake.
Gaia is busy taking notes. The only notes I have taken are the date and the word Monday, with different flowers and vines weaving through the letters.
I love the way she bites her lower lip when she’s concentrating.
She sees me looking at her from the corner of her eye and looks up from her notebook.
“Why aren’t you taking notes? This is going to be on the test,” she warns sternly.
“Can’t I read your notes?”
“No, you cannot.” She jerks her notebook away from my view.
“Come on, you know you want to,” I joke teasingly. I reach out and tickle her knee. She reflexively jerks her knee back and kicks out her foot, hitting it on the chair in front of her. The people in the row in front of us all turn around at the same time.
“Sorry,” Gaia whispers, straightening herself up in her seat. “Fine, you can look at my notes.”
I smile to myself, knowing that I’ve won. I’ve never been a big note-taker. In high school, Abi would let me borrow hers.
I haven’t heard from her in a few days, although I saw her briefly on the weekend.
She stopped in with Brooks to grab a DVD she wanted him to watch.
He didn’t say much when he was there, just the usual dismissive, cool guy head nod.
I thought I’d catch her leaving for uni today, but I haven’t seen her.
I rummage through my bag looking for my phone and find everything from lip gloss to a stray Tic Tac.
“It’s in your pocket,” Gaia whispers, with a slightly irritated expression on her face.
I reach my hand into the back pocket of my shorts and retrieve my phone.
There’s a message from Sam and one from Ginger asking if she can borrow my notes from yesterday’s lecture.
I can’t help but laugh at her request. If she thinks she’s getting notes off me, she’s shit out of luck.
Obviously, I didn’t take any. I open my message chat with Abi and scroll through our past messages.
We never used to go more than a few hours without talking, even if it was a ridiculous GIF or reel.
My heart sinks as the realisation of our current friendship status becomes clear.
She has no idea what’s been going on with me lately, and I don’t even have a clue about what’s going on with her and Brooks.
I tap on the typing field at the bottom of the chat.
I tap send, hoping that she replies soon, but I try not to get my hopes up. I can see that she’s seen the message, typing dots pop up but then disappear.
“Messaging Abi again?”
“I thought I’d give it another shot.” I force a weak smile.
“You’re a good friend.” Gaia places her hand on my leg and gives it a gentle squeeze.
Sam’s dragging me somewhere. He won’t tell me where we’re going, but he has promised that it’s not to the gym or out for a run.
Gaia’s working a double shift at the restaurant today, and according to Sam, I need to get out of the apartment.
It’s been a week since I sent my last message to Abi, and I still haven’t heard from her.
The only sign that she’s still alive and Brooks hasn’t discarded her in a ditch somewhere is that every morning I hear the shower before she sneaks out again.
“You’re like a sad little hermit lately,” Sam says, wrapping his arm around the pole on the tram to steady himself.
He holds out a small yellow packet of peanut M&Ms, offering me one, and I shake my head.
A man walks towards us, dressed in a suit with his briefcase in hand and winks at me like we’re old friends.
Sam reaches out, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to his body as the man walks past.
“Hey, you’re one to talk. You’re right there with me.
All we need are those weird, cosy blanket smock things, and people will think we’ve given up.
” I laugh. Those things look so stupid, but I can’t help it.
I want one, and as God is my witness, I will one day convince Sam to wear one with me. “Where are you taking me?”
I hate surprises, but he is insisting that I’m going to love it. His lips curve into a knowing smile as he looks up at the screen that tells us what stop is coming up next. Sam momentarily loses his balance as the tram stops suddenly, pulling me with him.
“This one is ours,” he announces, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the tram the second the doors slide open.
The afternoon breeze is warm on my face.
It won’t be long before the warm autumn weather leaves us and we’re forced to pull out the umbrellas to brace against the freezing Melbourne winter.
I don’t mind the cold, wet weather, but something is refreshing about feeling the breeze on a warm day.
I’m going to miss it. Sam guides me down the street, still holding onto my hand, and stops in front of a grey, boring-looking building.
“What is this?” I ask, trying to see if there are signs anywhere. “You better not be taking me to a dungeon where you’re going to sell me to a fat old man who smells like whiskey and cigars.”
“It’s an art gallery, you idiot.” He rolls his eyes, pulls open the door and tugs at my arm for me to come inside.
“I saw you doodling in your little notepad the other day.” A sharp, panicked, tingle shoots from my chest down into my arms at the idea of him looking at my drawings.
They are meant to be for me only, no one is supposed to know. “Don’t worry, I didn’t look.”
“It’s just a stupid little hobby.” I try to brush it off like it’s nothing, but time flies whenever I’ve got a pencil in my hand. If I could spend my days creating art without the fear that I would break my dad’s heart, then I would.
“It’s not stupid,” he says, pulling me in under his arm.
“You really know me, don’t you? Like the real me.” I look up at him as a softness falls over his features.
“Of course, I know the real you. Who else would you be? Now, come on.”
The paintings are beautiful. Delicate scenes from various countries around Europe.
The artist has completely nailed the colour palette of each painting.
A mixture of green swirls creates rolling hills on the canvas titled Ireland while deep purples and steel form the shape of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
We walk around looking at each one. I imagine myself being in those paintings, seeing those places.
That’s the power of good art. It transports you into the world of the artist. If I could create something this beautiful and have someone walk off the street and become lost in one of my pieces, that would be the dream.
The freedom I feel with a pencil in my hand and a blank page is exhilarating.
Without leaving my apartment, I can go anywhere and create any world I want.
There are no rules, just me and my pencil playing God. I’m in complete control.
When I eventually put the pencil down, I’m always brought back to reality.
My dad controls everything as though I were merely one of his employees.
He tells me what to do, where to go, what my future will be and if I’m a good girl, he pays for my life.
My rent, my school, my credit card, everything.
One step out of place, and he’d take it all in a second.
He is a good dad, and I know he loves me, but I also know the rules.
Most of the time, I can ignore the gnawing ache in my belly that’s howling at me to break free, but sometimes it creeps in slowly.
I don’t realise it’s there until the anxiety sets in, and I’m picking at my nails until they bleed.
Sam stays quiet, allowing me to lose myself in the artwork and my thoughts. It feels like only minutes have gone by, but soon we find ourselves back at the entrance again, having taken in every piece in the exhibit over a couple of hours.
“That was amazing.”
“I knew you’d like it,” Sam says, sounding pleased with himself.
“Thank you.” I pull at his t-shirt for him to lower his head towards me, and he obeys, bringing the side of his face down to mine. I gently kiss his cheek, then lift his muscular arm and rest it around my shoulders. I wrap my arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth.
“You’re welcome.” He relaxes his arm around me as we stroll effortlessly together. “You know you probably should have applied for an art course at university instead of business. The way you talk about art compared to what you’re studying. I can hear a big difference.”
“I can imagine Dad’s reaction now.” The rage would flood his eyes like a menacing storm cloud before he unleashes his stern, patronising boom of a voice.
“You shouldn’t waste years studying something purely because it’s what your dad wants.” He looks down at me, stating the obvious as if it were that simple.
“My dad pays for my school,” I say bluntly. “There is no way he would let me switch to an arts degree.”
“You should look into getting a job and a student loan, if that’s what you have to do to be happy.” He squeezes my shoulder reassuringly.
“It’s not only that. We mapped out a plan for my career, and this is the path we chose. I don’t want to disappoint him by quitting.”
I’ve never had a job. I don’t even know what I would do.
If I didn’t have the security of his money, my life would change completely.
But maybe Sam’s right. Maybe I would be a little more driven if I were studying something I had an interest in, instead of forcing myself to attend class.
It’s not just the money, though. Dad wants me to be set up with a stable career, ironically, so I never have to rely on anyone.
It would break his heart if I abandoned his dream now. I couldn’t do that to him.
Another week has gone by, and I still haven’t heard from Abi. Amir and I are taking a much-needed caffeine break from class. If it weren’t for my next lecture being with Gaia, I doubt I’d go back at all. I point to an empty table in the back of the cafe.
“You should message her,” Amir says, encouraging me to reach out to Abi again. I take a seat at the table, trying desperately not to spill my coffee. If I spill one drop, I know I will cry. That’s the kind of day I’ve been having.
“I have,” I exclaim, waving my phone in the air. “Is she replying to you?”
“No,” Amir sighs defeatedly. “But I do have classes with her, so I guess I see her more than you do.” He blows on his drink and brings his lips to the foaming liquid.
When he pulls his mug away from his face, he has a thick foam moustache, and I can’t help but laugh.
I lean forward, using my napkin to wipe it off.
He chuckles, not having realised it was there.
“If it were anyone else, I would have given up by now, but it’s Abi.
She’s like my sister. I’m not sure what else I can do.
We’re supposed to be roommates, but she’s never home.
I message her, but she doesn’t reply. I think I’m losing her.
” I start to wonder if we had a fight that I’m not aware of.
That’s the only reason why she would be avoiding me.
Amir lifts his finger to his chin and taps it thoughtfully.
“I’d keep trying. Let her know that you’re here for her. She’s in the honeymoon phase. It’ll pass, and she’ll realise she misses her friends.”
“I hope so,” I mumble. “Anyway, enough about Abi, tell me about what’s going on with you! We walk to campus almost every day, but we haven’t had the chance to hang out. You’ve been so busy with the group… What’s it called again?”
“The student union. We’re planning a Queernival towards the end of the year. We’re hoping to raise awareness and combat prejudice within the university. You should come.”
“Sounds great. I’ll see if Gaia wants to go.”
“You two have been getting pretty serious lately.” Amir raises an eyebrow, begging me for details.
“She’s amazing. She’s funny and sweet and a genius,” I gush, unable to contain the embarrassingly wide smile that’s spread across my face. I let out a reflexive, blissful sigh as I bring my elbow to the table and rest my chin in my hand.
“What’s that? A tattoo?” Amir asks, reaching out to touch my forearm. I have to look down to see what he’s talking about. I don’t have any tattoos. I spot a doodle I was drawing on my arm to keep myself entertained in my last lecture.
“I was bored in class, it’s nothing,” I say, lowering my arm back into my lap.
“That’s not nothing, Luna. That’s beautiful.” Amir widens his eyes in an attempt to show his sincerity. I look down at my arm again. Different flowers, ranging in size, weave up a leafy vine with detailed Monarch butterflies hovering above. I could have got the shading right, but the class ended.
“I guess.” I try to brush off Amir’s compliment with a shrug. I hadn’t meant for anyone to see it.