‘Hey Lev, Bryce.’ Doug nodded his head to the taller one and then the shorter one. Bryce grinned, his smile looked at risk of ripping his thin face in half and I felt slightly unnerved by the kind gesture though I knew it ridiculous.
‘You all right, mate?’ Bryce asked and Doug nodded his head, massaging the bridge of his nose.
‘Yeah, you know assignments are due.’
Lev nodded his head in understanding and turning to me asked. ‘How are you going with the assignment?’
I had to check myself, making sure I reiterated the earlier answer I’d given to Abby so she wouldn’t know I had been lying.
‘Good, almost finished. It’s been difficult though. Did you find the question super broad?’ Lev nodded a little too enthusiastically.
‘Yeah, to be honest I haven’t actually started and I’m getting really stressed now.’ Well that was reassuring.
‘Oh don’t worry about it. We’re all stressed and it’s not due till next week,’ I comforted. I can assure you that everything apart from the “stressed“ part in my reply was genuine. Lev and Bryce also studied psychology. I had met them in my second semester last year and they had befriended me, which I found quite strange as I wasn’t the type of person to make friends easily, though that’s not exactly surprising. I knew their friendship was due to the fact that, unlike them, I always came prepared to the fortnightly lessons and they’d realised a friendship with the me could be quite valuable. I wasn’t complaining, despite the fact I knew they were using me, I found them perfectly agreeable and unlike Doug, Abby and Glen, I didn’t care enough about them to worry what they thought of me. They were nothing more than friends of convenience, who I simply happened to like. When Lev and Bryce had realised that we would be taking the same unit on human development they had instantly flocked to my side. Despite the insincerity of their action a small bubble of glee floated in my stomach because I liked the fact that I was needed. Doug and Abby sat awkwardly as I chatted absently to Lev and Bryce. The fact that they hadn’t chosen to sit down meant their visit wouldn’t be prolonged, but the fact they hadn’t left after the polite personal enquiries meant they wanted to ask me something, their hesitation indicated it was going to be a favour.
‘Would you be up to meeting next week? Say Tuesday to go through the assignment together?’ Lev asked. He almost managed to ask the question without desperation soaking his voice. I felt Doug’s eyes search for mine but I purposely ignored them, keeping mine fixed on Lev and I nodded my head.
‘Yeah no problem, I’ll text you Monday and we can set a time.’
Lev’s face beamed and he cracked a wide smile, showing his crooked teeth that were stained a faint yellow from nicotine. ‘Great! Yeah, text me Monday,’ he replied. Lev and Bryce had already started walking away when they remembered Abby.
‘You’re welcome too, Abby,’ Lev offered. Abby’s smile was slightly pained; she was obviously hurt by the fact she was an afterthought and made her wounded feelings known by turning away, back to her laptop.
‘If I’m free I’ll come along,’ she said, attempting to show that she cared as little for them as they did for her. Abby’s pettiness was as charming as much as it was hilarious and I had to suppress a laugh while I said goodbye to Lev and Bryce, who departed after giving Doug a loud clap on the shoulder. Abby would be sulking for at least the next few minutes so Doug took the initiative to suggest coffee, and I realised as he stood stretching at the end of our table he expected me to come with him. I uncomfortably shuffled my way out of the booth and the sudden rush of blood to my legs made me realise how long I’d been sitting down. Doug grinned as he noticed my discomfort and asked if I was okay before we grabbed our phones and walked through the rabble of other students arranged haphazardly around the study wing. I’d come to observe that you can always tell what time it is in semester by how many students there are in the library. Assignment submission periods and exam weeks were obviously the worst. Then you had to fit yourself in between other hot bodies, bags and books. It was like Christmas shopping and I hated Christmas shopping. It also baffled me how an environment which resembled a zoo could ever be conducive to study, but perhaps people believed that simply being in the library would give them the knowledge needed to pass. Hell, whatever got them over that line. I didn’t pay much attention to the people around me. Doug was explaining the assignment for one of his anatomy units. Either it was the topic or the mere fact that it was Doug talking but I was enraptured. I felt I had been rude to the girl who took my money for the coffee I didn’t really want as I juggled telling her my order with maintaining my conversation with Doug. Not that she appeared to mind, if it were possible she appeared more despondent than I felt but she had cast me with a rather incredulous look when she noticed it was Doug who I was talking too. I got the feeling that she didn’t believe a girl with hair the colour of dirty dishwasher could have a friend like Doug. Yet right now I didn’t feel so dreary. My previous bad mood had entirely vanished so I’d forgotten it ever existed and I twirled on my left foot as I took my place in line next to Doug to stand and wait. My ear was strained to make sure we didn’t miss our order so when my phone vibrated in my hand it made me jump slightly, and I stared at it rather dumbfounded. The only people who ever text me I was with right now and my parents would always call, so unless it was Abby asking for something at the cafe the only other possible sender was my service provider. Glancing down to check my screen the name which popped up made me feel slightly sick: it was Mel.
I hadn’t seen Mel in months. She’d text a few times asking to meet up but I’d always managed to conjure up some half-wit excuse about why I couldn’t afford to meet one of my best friends for coffee. I was beginning to run out of options though. Soon I expected an excuse not only to cancel our plans, but also ensure there would be no chance of them ever happening in the future. I suppose a completely rational person would see that as a good thing. It would be one less person to worry about, one less person to lie too and undoubtedly Mel would be better off without me in her life. It wasn’t that I disliked Mel. On the contrary I loved her very much. Any version of my life without her in it would be considerably duller than what it was now and that says a lot. I suppose if I really loved Mel I would give her excuses until one day she stopped calling. I would let her grow to hate me but that thought alone was so utterly terrifying I found myself very close to tears. Suddenly my bad mood appeared again, though this time I was the focus of its anger. I needed to see Mel. Even though I wasn’t ready, I needed to see her because I couldn’t lose her and it would buy me more time. Time was what I needed to get rid of this infernal unhappiness and the Blackhole. In time I wouldn’t be this person any more, I’d be back to being Mel’s best friend and back to being Miranda. I felt like a hypocrite as I answered her text in an overly sweet tone, apologising and lying about being busy and “not have a moment to breathe”. I suggested we met next week on Tuesday morning, that way I’d have my meeting with Lev and Bryce to offer me an excuse to leave. Doug went up to collect our coffee while I stood there. To anyone else it would appear I was just trying to keep the congestion around the counter to a minimum while in reality I was trying to calm the whirling maelstrom which Mel’s text had unplugged. Doug didn’t appear to notice any change in me and continued to prattle on about something to do with the spine while I had already begun to think about next Tuesday and what Mel would want to talk about. My mind came up blank. It had been so long since I’d seen her I had no idea what she was doing. I couldn’t even remember the name of the boy she’d been seeing when we’d last met up around Christmas. I’ll admit I found it vaguely funny that a major assignment due in a week didn’t even raise my temperature but the prospect of sitting down in a cafe to be interrogated by my friend reduced me to a bundle of stress and anxiety. Yet this is what I wanted, isn’t it? Here I was, along with everyone else feeling stressed – even if it wasn’t for the same reason. Didn’t that make me normal? All it
did was make me even more miserable. Noticing that Doug’s feet no longer kept pace with mine I looked up to realise he’d stopped a few steps behind me. He was looking at me with a bemused expression on his face, one that meant he’d asked me something, and my silence had revealed I hadn’t been listening to anything he’d been saying. Damn it.
‘I’m sorry,’ I breathed. ‘What did you say?’
‘I asked if you were planning on going home soon.’ The thought of my Blackhole made me suddenly ache to be safe and back in my bed.
‘I think I might actually call it a day, I’m knackered,’ I admitted, and pretended to stifle a yawn, which actually revealed itself to be genuine.
‘Think I might join you in that,’ Doug replied. Arriving back at our table we announced our departure to Abby who joined in our abandonment of responsibility. I once read somewhere that true friendship is when silence between people is comfortable. I rather liked that. It was comforting to imagine a relationship where people were content in silence; where it was enough to simply be in someone’s presence and not fill it with incessant, nonsensical drivel. I think silence is one of the most intimate experiences you can share with a person. When there is nothing but your deafening thoughts which seem to be drumming so loud inside your head you’re sure the other person can hear them and sometimes you assume they do. The silence that filled the space between Doug, Abby and I as we walked to our separate modes of transportation home was quite different to the romantic one I imagined. Born out of a shared drowsiness, the heat certainly contributed to the weight that pressed upon us. I walked between Doug and Abby which was my least favourite position as it not only made me the literal centre of our conversation, or lack thereof, but it was also quite hazardous. I’d bumped into Doug with my bag twice already as we navigated our way down the stairs. He didn’t seem to mind, rather he appeared quite oblivious to the invasion of his personal space; no doubt he was simply too tired to care.
Arriving at our place of separation we farewelled each other with sluggish motions that a generous person would describe as a wave. We didn’t bother with extravagant goodbyes like we’d done back in high school. Back then even the most temporal separation had been seen off with a foray which gave the appearance we were about to ship off to Timbuktu. Now we rather begrudged the fact we would be forced to see each other again just for what our company represented: sleeplessness, anxiety and perhaps worst of all, that feeling of failure. Gosh, what a time to be alive.
***
Despite my general dislike for people I must admit I found them intriguing creatures. I liked to try and comprehend that everyone had thoughts as personal to themselves as mine were to me. That every single random person around me lived a life as vivid and detailed as my own, filled with their own hopes, ambitions, fears and doubts; that their life was a recollection of their own personal and completely unique memories. In that perspective, it became quite easy to understand why life was undoubtedly the most precious thing in the world. We were all limited editions; doesn’t that make you feel special? I think the most comforting thing about this exercise was the fact that comprehending another person’s life in this way made me realise how utterly insignificant I was. I was just another girl quietly sitting at a corner table in a cafe with a crumb-covered floor, a simple extra in a stranger’s epic cinematic, another driverless car on the highway speeding to life’s final and inevitable destination. For a girl whose life ambition was to remain completely invisible you can understand why that thought was so appealing. People always viewed each another one-dimensionally and I, more than anyone was guilty of that.
I thought myself to be a good judge of character and was quite comfortable in believing all my friends were exactly as I made them. I spent so little voluntary time with them they were never given the opportunity to shatter the little glass character I had so delicately designed for them. Yet not all of my friends were so created. One isn’t born a good judge of character; it’s something that develops over time so I suppose my friends from childhood are what you could consider genuine. Growing up I had no compass in my head pointing me to the right people. I rather blindly fumbled through those years grabbing onto people frantically before I finally found someone to keep me anchored. I suppose that’s one of the reasons why growing up is so difficult. We constantly put ourselves in peril, risking hurt feelings and teary rejections all in the hope that we’d find just one person to call a friend. Giving up was not in our nature, we were only children after all: resilient, persistent and unable to fathom the horrible truth that sometimes life doesn’t have a happy ending. So there we waited, in a flurry of anxious expectation waiting for the moment a friend would arrive and all of those tears and worries would finally be worth it. Those were the friends who made you aware of how incredibly unusual you were and loved you for it. Wasn’t it so delightfully ridiculous to realise that your friends made you feel completely normal by virtue of your non-conformity. I remember first meeting Laura, Mel and Josie. At first we all pretended to be so cool, so nonchalant and so boring. I don’t remember what changed or when for that matter, but quite overnight we found ourselves showing each other the little maniacs we kept buried inside. The little maniacs that found themselves running down the burning streets in our cotton underwear during games of truth or dare, trying on cheap lingerie we didn’t know how to use and comparing who had the biggest boobs to buy alcohol underage, only to realise we didn’t like the taste. Thinking about those memories felt wrong because they weren’t mine. They were Miranda’s; I was the desperate stranger staring in through the breath-fogged window. Watching them play out was as unpleasant as it disembodying. They were a painful reminder of what I had been and what I had lost.
There’s something called the calculus of felicity. It’s a philosophical algorithm proposed by a gentleman by the name of Bentham. In its most crude form, Bentham considers that when determining whether a thing can be “good” or “bad” one must consider how much said thing maximises pleasure whilst minimising pain. Therefore a “good” thing will be something that maximises pleasure completely, while no pain is experienced. According to this theory a person, in seeking to lead a morally good life, must seek to maximise their own pleasure whilst minimising their own pain. I’m not too sure about the whole “maximising pleasure” thing, striving for happiness seems awfully ambitious at the moment, but what I can understand is this idea of minimising pain. If I explained that to Mel maybe she’d realise why meeting her was just so uncomfortable. In all honesty though, I regarded Bentham’s theory as quite selfish. Maybe I just didn’t understand it properly but his theory seemed to be relying on a completely subjective construct; allowing people to excuse their egotistical behaviour with an actual philosophy. Meeting Mel wasn’t going to be nice for me but I couldn’t say that for her; perhaps she was brimming with excitement about our morning coffee date?
So what does a person do when a particular thing meant maximum pleasure to one person, and maximum pain to the other? In whose interest was a person to act? I suppose that relied on the type of people in question, whether they were good or bad. A good person in the position of the person to be benefitted would sacrifice their pleasure so not to cause the other pain. A good person in the position of the person to be afflicted would embrace the pain, knowing it caused the other person happiness. So that’s what I was going to do. I was going to sit there and act like it didn’t hurt. Like I wanted to be there and spend every moment in rapt attention to whatever Mel had to tell me, rather than thinking about how long I had to wait until I could leave. Now that I had accepted my fate I began to grow impatient. I had arrived at the place we’d agreed to meet ten minutes early even though Mel was characteristically late. We were meeting in a quiet little cafe just off the main café strip in Fremantle; it was the type of place with a hipster vibe which made anyone inside feel cool and slightly pretentious. The barista had grown impatient in the absence of my order and had taken to fixing me with
an irritated stare when he wasn’t preoccupied with tamping coffee or steaming milk. It made me feel like a naughty child and it only took a further three minutes before I caved and ordered a small flat white, internally cursing at the barista and his self-inflated importance. I pretended not to notice his smug look as the waitress passed me my table number and went back to sit exactly where I had been: a small rectangular table outside under an umbrella with my back to the window so there was no chance I’d catch my reflection.
Although it was now April the weather appeared to have misplaced its calendar; it was still uncomfortably hot. Sweat dripped in tiny tickling beads down my arms and I was just about to pick myself up and move to shaded table inside when I saw Mel. She was wearing tiny denim shorts and a floaty tie-dyed cardigan over a plain black singlet. She looked so summery and informal, like meeting me was no big deal and all the stress I’d put myself under appeared quite stupid. Glimpsing me, her face cracked into a massive grin and for a second she actually looked happy to see me. Mel was the type of girl that made everyone in the room stop and stare; she was gorgeous. Her eyes were wide and the colour of dark chocolate with eyelashes that could cause a hurricane. She had a curtain of black hair which fell like silk and though she had been overweight as a child, she had slimmed down recently; I appeared to have acquired the weight she had lost. Mel was half-Filipino, her father was from Davao City while her mother was Australian and though they had divorced when Mel was barely two years old they remained on good terms, every winter break Mel flew over to spend a month with her father in Davao. She was a Bachelor of Arts student at Notre Dame, majoring in journalism, and was one of those frustratingly optimistic people who didn’t think about job security once graduation rolled around. Mel was perfectly content to study a course which many parents would lament their child specialising in, considering it a ticket degree that cost you a whole lot of money but got you nowhere. I don’t know if it was divine intervention or by sheer force of willpower, but Mel always seemed to be okay, well more than okay actually. Mel always did brilliantly.
My Bed is a Blackhole Page 5
