It's Not Me, It's You

by Thalia Kalkipsakis

  ‘Found it okay?’ asks Lucy once I make it up the stairs. She’s leaning against the doorframe.

  ‘Piece of cake.’ Now that I’m close, I see puffiness under her eyes.

  She hugs me and holds on a little longer than she usually would. ‘Well, this is it,’ she says, releasing me.

  I follow her through a door with a metallic ‘14’ stuck on it, straight into the living room. It’s way smaller than I expected, barely enough room for two old couches and a TV. But I take in every detail so I’ll remember it later when we’re talking on the phone. Just being here makes me feel as if I’m part of Lucy’s new life, just a smidge.

  ‘This is my room,’ says Lucy with a small smile.

  ‘Pretty good,’ I say, scanning and nodding, making a point not to focus on the bed. Lucy’s room is better than the living room. Somehow it feels warmer. But it’s weird seeing all her stuff from home.

  ‘And the bathroom.’ Lucy pushes on a door and does a little bow. Then we walk about three steps to the other side of the living room. ‘And the kitchen.’

  Sunlight streams in through the kitchen windows. It’s brighter than all the other rooms, and painted white. Even the tiles are white, with pale blue flowers. Fresh herbs grow in pots on the windowsill. They wouldn’t be Lucy’s.

  ‘Is Pia in her room?’ I whisper.

  Lucy shakes her head and flicks a tab on the kettle. ‘At her boyfriend’s place.’ She moves over to the fridge. ‘You want some coffee?’

  ‘Sure.’

  The kettle boils and Lucy pours water into the coffee plunger.

  Lucy turns to me. ‘Listen, I’m sorry I got so upset the other day.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say quietly. ‘It wasn’t really your fault.’

  We’re quiet while she presses on the plunger. ‘It’s just … I’d had this huge week,’ Lucy continues. ‘I was really looking forward to coming home. And then I get ambushed by Mum.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m … sorry about all that.’

  Lucy places two mugs on the table and then sits opposite me. I pick mine up, and sip.

  ‘Sweet enough?’

  I nod and then drop my head to one side. ‘So … what happened with Josh?’

  Lucy’s quiet for a few seconds, staring at her mug. ‘He asked if he could move in.’

  Not what I was expecting. ‘What? Here?’

  She nods. ‘He stayed the night …’ She pauses and her eyes slide to me as if waiting for a reaction. When I nod, she keeps going. ‘When we woke up, he said that now that I’ve moved out, it makes sense for us to live together.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  Lucy’s chin drops. ‘I said no. He got really upset and we had this massive fight.’ Her eyes brim with tears. She breaks into sobs.

  ‘Oh, Luce …’ I reach across the table and rest a hand on her forearm.

  ‘I’ve been calling all day, but he won’t answer. And … and then … I get this text … saying he needs some time to think.’

  I pull back my hand. ‘But that isn’t the same as breaking up, is it?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Lucy leans back too. ‘And how much time is some? A day? A week? A year?’

  No idea. I shrug sympathetically. We’re quiet for a while. I blow on my coffee and sip.

  ‘The problem is, I can’t make him see why I said no,’ Lucy says. ‘He’d already talked to Pia and she liked the idea of splitting rent three ways. He thought I’d be happy about it.’

  ‘So … Pia wants him to move in, but you don’t?’ It’s hard to get my head around all this.

  Lucy looks miserable. ‘It’s not because I don’t want to be with him. It’s like … what if he’s the one? If we move in together, we could spend the rest of our lives with each other, which would make this my one chance to … I don’t know, live my own life for a bit.’

  I’m not sure what to say. It all seems so … grown-up. The rest of our lives. The one. I raise my eyebrows at Lucy. ‘So you said no because you really like him?’

  She throws up her hands. ‘Exactly!’

  Poor Josh. He must be so hurt and confused. ‘He’s really into you too, Luce,’ I say.

  Her head tilts. ‘You think?’

  ‘Definitely.’ And for once I actually know what I’m talking about. For the past two and a half years I’ve seen heaps of Josh, and all because he’s so keen on Lucy. How many times has he quietly cleared the table while Mum and Lucy were in the middle of a fight? Or answered all Dad’s questions about where they were going?

  ‘You just have to explain it to him,’ I say. ‘Once you talk it through, he’ll understand.’

  ‘You think?’ she says again.

  ‘Yeah.’ I’m still nodding, and smiling too. ‘Just give him time. He’ll come round. It’ll be okay, Luce.’

  It must be the right thing to say because she breathes in and her eyes soften. So I say it again. And I mean it. ‘It’ll be okay.’

  Lucy relaxes then, actually sipping her coffee a few times. Then she leans forward and asks, ‘So, what did Mum say when you told her about the wrapper?’

  ‘I thought she’d flip … but she was pretty cool, actually.’ I shrug, thinking, then break into a grin. ‘She said she’s glad you’re using protection.’

  ‘Oh man.’ Lucy rolls her eyes.

  ‘Yeah.’ I let out a giggle. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about it. I guess I sort of freaked out.’

  ‘Because we’re sleeping together or because I hadn’t told you?’

  I make a noise that means sort of both. ‘You used to … tell me stuff, you know?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Lucy looks down. ‘It’s all a bit weird for me too.’

  ‘But you could at least have said something! I can’t believe I had to find out on my own!’

  ‘It’s not all about you, Erin!’ laughs Lucy. She lets out a snort, shaking her head. ‘And anyway, it’s not like I planned it. I mean, the first time … we didn’t exactly mean for it to happen, you know?’

  ‘No.’ I scrunch my nose at the idea, and break out laughing. ‘How can you just do it by accident?’

  Lucy chuckles. ‘No, I mean, it wasn’t planned. It just happened because it felt right. And I’m really glad it was with Josh.’

  ‘But how did you know?’ I lean against the edge of the table, searching her expression for an answer. ‘What do you mean it felt right?’

  Lucy shrugs. ‘I don’t know. It just did. Listen, you don’t need to worry, Erin. No-one’s an expert. Sometimes it’s the not knowing that’s the best bit. The finding out about someone …’

  I’m not sure exactly what she means, but it makes me think of George. We’ve lived in the same street all our lives, but there’s so much I don’t know about him. For a start, I still don’t know what he was thinking when he asked me out. I glance over at Lucy, then back down at the table. ‘You remember George?’

  ‘Yes, I remember George. Haven’t been gone that long.’

  ‘Well, he asked me out to the movies. But I kind of … freaked out.’

  ‘You did what?’ I look up to find Lucy smothering a giggle. ‘Don’t tell me … You asked him a heap of questions and scared him off?’

  Sort of …

  Lucy leans forward, and wriggles happily. ‘My little sister … asked out on her first date.’

  But I’m not laughing. I feel so bad about what happened. And I don’t know how to patch it up between me and George. Losing him as a friend is way worse than not being his girlfriend.

  ‘Oh, don’t look so stressed, Erin!’ cries Lucy. ‘You’ve known George for … how long? Eleven years? So talk to him! You’ll find a way to work it out. You don’t need to have all the answers, just trust your instincts. What does Mum call it again?’ She grins. ‘Women’s intuition.’

  That makes me shake my head. ‘Don’t think I have much of that.’

  Lucy smiles, sort of happy-sad. Wistful maybe.

  ‘Just talk to him,’ she says. ‘Okay?’

  The next mor
ning, George almost misses the bus. He climbs on, panting, then steps heavily down the aisle, bracing himself as he goes. I watch him come, waiting for him to glance my way. If I smile, he might smile back …

  But George’s gaze never even rises from the floor. He sinks into the first free space on the other side of the bus.

  I spend the whole trip staring at the back of his head. Does he hate me now? Will George ever look my way again? How can I fix all this if he won’t even talk to me?

  As soon as we stop at school, George is up and away. No-one could have seen what just happened, but it makes me feel empty inside. I’m last off, trudging down the aisle behind a huge year-twelve backpack.

  Once down the steps, I stand for a few seconds beside the road. I swap my bag to the other shoulder. This could be a mistake.

  Cautiously, I step up the main path that leads past Briana and Phoebe at their bench. As I come over the rise, my eyes go straight to our spot. My old spot.

  A tiny speck of hope rises as I see Briana sitting by herself. We’ll be able to talk for a few minutes without Phoebe.

  When I get near the bench my stomach turns over. I think about continuing past. But I force myself to stay where I am, unsure how to stand or where to look. Briana springs out of her seat and steps towards me.

  ‘Did you get my text?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah.’ My mouth scrunches. Can’t meet those questioning eyes.

  Briana shifts her weight as if expecting me to say more. After a while, she tries again. ‘Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Hamish. I know you’re upset. But I hate us fighting like this.’ Her forehead wrinkles. ‘What’s happening to us, E?’

  When Briana says that, my throat goes tight. It’s almost too close to how things used to be, when we wrote each other notes in class and signed them, ‘Best Friends Forever.’

  But we were little kids then. We didn’t know what was coming.

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. It’s … not just that.’

  ‘Then what?’ Briana stares along the path, then turns back to me. ‘Are you saying you don’t want to hang out with us anymore?’

  And there it is. That little word. Us.

  ‘It’s not you. It’s Phoebe —’

  Briana’s hands go straight to her hips. ‘You can’t ask me to stop being friends with her!’

  ‘I know!’ And to make her see that I get it, I say it again. ‘I know.’

  Our eyes meet and this time there’s a clear under-standing between us, as if we’re finally talking. As if we’re not little kids anymore.

  ‘I know you don’t like her,’ says Briana. ‘But Phoebe wasn’t the start of all this.’

  Phoebe is the whole problem, if you ask me.

  ‘Remember when I had that crush on Daz last year,’ says Briana. ‘And you got so sick of me talking about him?’

  I’d forgotten about Daz. He was her first.

  ‘Then when Phoebe started hanging out with us, you just sat back and zoned out … as if it was a relief not to have to listen to me blab on anymore.’

  Zoned out? Well, maybe. I just didn’t get it. I didn’t know what to say.

  Briana’s eyebrows pinch. ‘It made me feel like you didn’t care about me. And Phoebe … she listened, you know? She’s really good to talk to, if you let her.’ Briana stares down at her hands before looking back up at me. ‘I guess I kind of wanted to make you jealous. But you never were.’

  ‘I always was!’ I say. Though I guess I never came out and said it. I’d been blaming Phoebe for all this, when none of it was her fault. Not really. I can’t stop my mouth kinking up. ‘You wanted to make me jealous?’

  ‘Maybe. In a friends sort of way.’ Briana matches my small smile.

  I shake my head. ‘I know I haven’t listened like I should have.’ I shrug. ‘I really miss you, Bri. But I miss the way things used to be. We’re so different now.’

  ‘Different now?’ Briana scoffs. ‘We’ve always been different! That’s what I like about you, Erin. I never know what to expect.’

  For a moment we just look at each other, and then Briana’s smiling at me. ‘We’re idiots, aren’t we?’

  ‘Speak for yourself.’ But I’m smiling too.

  ‘Oh, come on, Erin!’ Briana grabs my hand and squeezes. ‘Are we okay? I really want us to be okay.’

  I meet her gaze. She has been missing me, just like I’ve been missing her. It’s all I needed to hear. I squeeze her hand back. ‘We’re better than okay.’

  ‘Good.’

  Side by side, we walk to our bench. I drop my bag next to Briana’s while she sits sideways with one leg hooked under the other. I settle down next to her.

  ‘So, what did you say to George in the end?’ Briana asks.

  ‘I don’t know. I asked a heap of questions and he got really upset.’ I shake my head. ‘It was awful. Now I can’t even speak to him.’

  ‘Why not?’

  I think about the way George was on the bus this morning and my hands lift in frustration. ‘He won’t even look at me. It’s so weird. I’m not sure what to do.’

  How do you stay friends with someone who’s asked you out on a date? Someone you’ve made feel really bad?

  ‘Well,’ starts Briana, then her eyes focus behind me and her expression changes. I follow her line of sight to find Phoebe coming towards us and immediately want to shrink away. I’ve been acting so badly around Phoebe, blaming her for stuff that was going on between me and Bri.

  Phoebe drops her bag. ‘Hi,’ she says, glancing from me to Briana.

  ‘Hey, Phoebe.’ Briana turns to me.

  I clear my throat. ‘Hi.’

  Then we go quiet. Phoebe’s forehead creases and her eyes lower. Strange. Usually she’s the first to speak.

  I square my shoulders and focus on Phoebe. ‘Um, I’d like to hang out with you two again, you know, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Not my call …’ Phoebe glances at Bri and then back to me. ‘But since you’re asking? It’s okay with me.’

  I tuck my feet under the bench, wondering what to say. All I can tell her is the truth, I guess.

  ‘So, I’m sorry I’ve been acting so weird. I want to explain,’ I say. ‘All that stuff about me keeping secrets? It’s because I haven’t been sure what to say. I’m … I don’t know … totally retarded when it comes to guys. I spend my whole time with no idea what to say. And when I try … I end up saying the wrong stuff all the time.’

  A small smile creeps over Briana’s lips. ‘You can’t say retarded these days, you know. Maybe you should say “romantically challenged”. That’s more PC.’

  As Phoebe lets out a laugh, my shoulders relax. She sits beside me so I have Bri on one side and Phoebe on the other.

  I’m not used to being in the middle. ‘So … you know George? He asked me to a movie.’

  Phoebe looks confused. ‘George?’

  ‘He’s on Erin’s bus,’ says Briana. ‘Year above us. Dark hair, really into computers.’

  I’m surprised that Phoebe hasn’t heard about George. I thought that Briana and Phoebe told each other everything.

  ‘He asked you out?’ asks Phoebe.

  I glance at Briana. ‘Yeah …’

  ‘… and she chickened out,’ giggles Briana.

  Phoebe turns to me questioningly.

  ‘Now he won’t even talk to me.’ I glance sideways at Briana, who nods. ‘I guess I didn’t get why he asked me. I mean … we’ve been friends for so long, and we talk on the bus all the time. But now that he asked me, it’s all so … weird. I thought I knew him really well, but I’m not so sure anymore. It’s like, I can’t work out what he’s thinking …’

  ‘Welcome to the club!’ smiles Phoebe. ‘Why do you think we talk about our crushes all the time? We never know what guys are thinking.’ She clears her throat. ‘So, you do like him, but don’t know how to act around him. And you’re not even talking anymore?’

  ‘Yeah …’ I say slowly, as it all sinks in. A whimp
er escapes. ‘I do like him. What am I going to do?’

  Even Briana’s quiet now. She squeezes my knee sympathetically.

  ‘Well, if you want my advice?’ asks Phoebe.

  I nod quickly. ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him to the movies as friends,’ she says. ‘That way you’ll get to hang out and talk, at least.’

  It makes sense as soon as she says it. That idea’s pretty good …

  Phoebe and Briana lean forward. Right until the second bell we plan what I should do, our heads close, shutting out the rest of the world.

  Even after the bell goes, I’m still not sure exactly what to say. For all I know, George won’t even listen. But I’m going to try.

  As soon as the final bell goes, I grab my bag and exchange glances with Briana and Phoebe. Phoebe mouths, Good luck, while Briana nods meaningfully. Then I turn and fight against the crowd in the corridor, making my way to B block.

  I stop and wait beside the stairs, then change my mind and find a spot near the noticeboard that George will have to pass on his way to the bus. Perfect. It’s just past a corner, so it won’t be obvious I’m here.

  While I wait, I lean against the wall, my heart thumping, doing my best to act cool. It makes me realise how nervous George must have been, knocking on my door. The way he couldn’t look me in the eye. The way he rocked on the balls of his feet …

  I still can’t believe that he actually asked me.

  After a while, I see George trudging down the steps on his own, a bag slung over his shoulder. As soon as he spots me, he stiffens and slows. Just as he’s passing, he mutters, ‘Hi,’ and keeps walking as if that’s the end of that.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, falling into pace with him. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

  His steps slow for a moment. Then he charges forward, dodging around bodies in the corridor like he’s some sort of rugby player.

  I have to jog a few steps, skipping to the side at one point, trying to keep up. I’m panting when I finally catch up enough to say, ‘I wanted to talk to you about going to the movie. Explain why I —’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ George says over the top of me. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  He keeps race-walking, and this time I’m not sure what to do. Maybe there’s nothing I can say to fix all this, maybe he’ll never talk to me again. I drop behind with a kind of churning sickness inside.