by Dale, Lindy
“And you’re helping him?”
I stared at him indignantly, quite ready to shut him out for the sake of my relationship with Mark.
“I’ve tried to understand. We all have, but what ever it is that bothers you so much has taken over your life. You’re not the beautiful girl I used to know anymore and I don’t know if I can stand by and watch you do this to yourself.”
“And I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
Justin paused as he reached the door. “Do what you want to do. But remember we’re you’re friends and you know where we are when you need us.”
“I don’t need help. I don’t need anybody.” And I shut the door behind him.
“Is he gone?”
“Yep. He was trying some sort of ‘tough love’ shit on me.” I dragged myself into the bedroom, lying down next to Mark on the bed. “I have a throbbing headache, and I feel so sick.”
“Come to Daddy, Blondie,” he crooned. “I have just what you need to make you feel all better.”
***
I sat in the Dean of Students office, nervously rolling my hanky between my fingers and hoping to God that he wouldn’t be able to tell I had just had a snort before I arrived. I knew why he’d ushered me into the depths of his hallowed sanctum, and frankly, I was shit scared. That was one of the reasons I’d had a taste. Mark had said it was the only way to stop the excessive shaking in my hands, which could happen if you partied too hard.
Peering at me over the top of his plastic rimmed spectacles, the only part of his wardrobe that looked as if it’d been purchased within the last five years, the old man rested his elbows on the blotter. His hands came together prayer like, the fingertips touching in front of his pursed lips, as he considered me. He shook his head, displeased with my appearance.
I’d tried to cover my sallow complexion with makeup but there was nothing I could do about the glassy eyes. I wished he’d speak; the waiting was murder.
After what seemed like an age, the Dean cleared his throat. “We seem to have a problem.”
I grimaced.
“There’s been reports from three of your tutors so far, and no doubt there’ll be more, of missed lessons, incomplete assignments and indeed a number not handed in at all. Prof. Phillips has also intimated to me, that when you do attend classes you appear disinterested and lacking in focus. You seem to be well on the way to failing in all your units, in which case you would not be able to return next year to complete your degree.”
He sat silently glaring at me, as if waiting for some pearl of wisdom to spring from my mouth, which would explain perfectly, and excuse, all my crimes. How could I tell him I was having too much fun – drinking, snorting speed and shagging myself senseless. I didn’t think he’d appreciate such candor this early in the morning.
“It’s also come to my attention that you’ve come to classes on more than one occasion in a rather inappropriate state, shall we say, and you’ve already been warned by Dr. Evans and Prof. Sutton about such behaviour. It is not acceptable at this University. We have a reputation to uphold. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I muttered. It was always good to go for the sob story, I’d prepared one earlier just in case. “I’ve had a lot of personal stuff going on. I didn’t mean for it to interfere with my studies but it did.”
The Dean’s wrinkled face seemed to soften. “Normally, after repeated warnings, a student showing such lack of commitment would be asked to reconsider their place at the University, you understand…”
My face dropped. He was serious, this wasn’t a game, he was going to kick me out on my cute little arse. Steeling myself, as the tears began to mount, I looked him in the eye, preparing myself for the worst. The reflection in the window showed my skin developed an awful grayish tinge and I was sure that I was going to throw up all over his beige carpet. That’d be the icing on the cake.
“However, in this instance, your tutors have spoken highly of you and come to your aid, so to speak. It’s their belief that you’re an exceptional student and that we’d be doing you a disservice were we to ask you to leave. Your academic record does seem to support their argument. Therefore, we’re willing to let you continue with your studies but there will be conditions that you will have to adhere to. Any deviation from said conditions will result in your studies being discontinued immediately.”
I could feel the weight lifting. I was allowed to stay. I wouldn’t have to face my parents in disgrace. “What do I have to do?”
“Submit all the assignments you’ve missed during the semester, and resubmit those which were incomplete. Your tutors have worked out a timetable of due dates for these, so you can organize your time, it’s a great deal of work.”
He slid a typed sheet towards me and I glanced at the schedule. Great deal of work? There was enough work on that list to keep me going until I was forty! I could never do it!
“Also understand that because of your poor attendance record over the past months, that no matter how high the quality of said assignments, you can achieve no more than a passing level. This will be enough to get you into your final year, and hopefully put you back on track. Are you willing to undertake such a challenge, Annabelle?”
I looked at the list again and smiled gratefully. “Yes. And thank you for letting me try. I won’t disappoint you.”
“Let’s hope the next time I see you is when you collect your degree.”
I went home, I flushed the speed down the loo. I worked like a dog, which I suppose was far better than behaving like a dog as all my friends seemed to think I was. The ultimatum had been the wakeup call I needed. I wasn’t going to let myself down again. I needed to move on.
Clearing the bed-sit of all the junk I’d accumulated was cathartic. I threw out clothes and books I no longer needed and did a total revamp of my bedroom area, just like in the old days. I even considered throwing the box of ‘Ben’ out along with the tape that Mark had made of his song but reconsidered at the last moment. They were precious life memories and I couldn’t forget my old life because I had a new one. It was those things that made me who I was.
Standing with my hands on my hips, I studied the orderly space with folded arms. I was ready to resume my life. No more drugs and no more letting Mark wheedle and bend me to his ways. The independent girl I used to be was going to return. As of now.
After making a coffee, I sat down on the sofa and picked up the phone. Filled with a sense of trepidation, I dialled. Justin was first on the list.
“I’m sorry, Jus. I’ve got no excuse for my behaviour. I want to make it up to you,” I sobbed into the phone with a rush of tears and remorse.
“What happened? Last week you wanted nothing to do with us.”
“I had a wake up call.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, but I want my life back. I don’t want to be a failure.” And it was true, I realised. I did want my life back. I needed to be me, not a sex slave to the Lizard King. But could I do it? Would I be able to have control and Mark too?
I heard him smile into the phone. “Welcome back, Bella. We’ve missed you.”
It was the same with Coops. “I’m sorry,” I said, simply.
“For what?”
“You know… the drugs, the sex, embarrassing you… having you chase me all over the city to protect me. I was stupid. I didn’t see.”
He was silent for a minute. “I only wanted to keep you safe. You know I love you.”
“Yeah,” I smiled. “Me too.”
A conversation with Dean, however, was harder. It was always harder. His voice turned icy, when he discovered it was me on the other end of the line.
“I know I hurt you. I’m so sorry. I was a selfish cow.”
His tone remained frigid. “I don’t want to go out with you anymore, if that’s what you’re after. So you’re apologies won’t do any good. You lied to me and humiliated me.”
“Shit, Dean
. I don’t expect us to kiss and make up. It was over long before this.”
“What do you want then?”
“I wanted to apologise. I know it won’t change anything. I hope we can still be friends.”
The sound that came back to me could only be described as a grunt. “I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”
***
In the midst of everything, I threw myself back into my studies with my usual fanaticism. I felt as if, at last, I had everything under control. The ride was over. Yes, I’d spewed all over the place when the bottom dropped out but I’d vowed never to take that ride again. From now on I was only going on the nice safe rides, like the Ferris wheel. My satisfaction was tenfold when I managed to turn in all of the assignments that were late, including the poetry for Prof. Philips.
Despite the fact that he could only award me a Pass, Prof. Philips sang it’s praises. “This is an incredible piece of work, I gather it’s something of a self analysis?”
“Maybe.”
He studied my face, still pale and thin though I had taken not any drugs for weeks. “If this is part of the reason for your problems earlier in the year, I think I can say that you’ve helped me to understand a little more. Do you feel better for writing it?”
“Strangely enough, I do.”
“I thought so.” He coughed. “Have you ever considered changing your major and becoming a writer. I’m impressed by your style. I think your talent would be wasted if you go into marketing as you intend.”
“You think it’s that good?”
He understood my work. That type of praise was better than any chemical induced high. I’d forgotten how much I missed it.
“Yes, and with your permission I’d like to send it to a friend of mine in Sydney for his opinion. He’s in publishing. Have you got any other pieces I can include so he can get a feel for your voice?”
I was taken aback. I’d prepared myself for another rap over the knuckles, but not this. This was too much. I began to cry.
“Oh, my dear. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know. It’s just that nobody’s done anything nice for me in ages. I s’pose I haven’t deserved it. They all assume I’m so strong and I can cope with everything but I’m not. I’m sick of being used.”
He must have been unused to such honesty in his office, for the professor cautiously placed a fatherly arm around my shoulder, handing me his hanky. I sniffed and blew and at last was calm.
“Now, do you have any other work?” he asked again, walking back to his own side of the desk and sitting down.
“I have some short stories and a few poems, but they’re not that good.”
“I think you should let me be the judge of that. Go home, look through them and bring me your best pieces. I’ll send them off for you next week if they’re ready.”
There was no way on Earth they wouldn’t be. I’d see to that.
***
When Mark knocked at my door, I was in uncertain as to whether I should let him in. I’d been doing so well, ignoring his existence and had thought he was doing the same. It was nothing unusual for him to slip in an out of my life at a moment’s notice. His absences always went unexplained, and I’d learnt never to question.
“Hi Blondie.” His shoulder was leaning against the doorjamb, his black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest and arms. His dreadlocks hung tantalizingly over his face and his musty scent was still a force to be reckoned with. His grin was slow and sexy. “Can I come in?”
“I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than hang around with me. You’ve been out of touch for so long, I thought you’d been abducted by aliens.”
My sarcasm was not lost on the Lizard King, who chose to ignore it and slid into my tiny lounge. He eyed me up and down, raising an eyebrow, I was unsure whether in approval or disapproval, until he pulled me towards him, disregarding anything I could have said or done to stop him.
“You look like shit.”
Pushing him away, I smoothed my hair and tucked the loose strands behind my ears, not knowing why I should care what he thought. “How dare you come in here and start telling me I look bad, you don’t look so shit hot yourself.”
I’d have had to be blind not to notice the bruising on his arms. He’d started using again, I didn’t know or care what, as long as he didn’t ask me to do it with him. “I think you should go…”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that my life almost came to a resounding end, no thanks to you. I lost control Mark, I gave my life to you and you filled it with drugs and alcohol and sex and I nearly lost everything.”
“Fuck, Bella. It was a bit of fun. I thought we were having fun.” He slid closer and began to nuzzle on my neck. “I thought you enjoyed it.”
I pushed him off again, with two hands this time. “I did enjoy it but that’s not the point. The point is I almost got chucked out of Uni. Luckily, they gave me another chance, so I’ve been working night and day to catch up on all the stuff I missed while you were shagging me silly.”
“Fuck.”
I walked into the kitchen and began to rummage through a stack of loose papers, sort of insinuating he should leave, but he didn’t. He followed me. There were papers, strewn across the floor of the tiny kitchen and over every available surface.
“What’s with the mess?” he asked.
“I’m looking for some stuff I wrote a while back, when I first met you, before you turned my brain into pulp.”
“What for?”
I paid no heed to his question, hoping he’d go away, and continued to sort through the jumble on the bench. He walked over and slipped his arms around my waist from behind.
“You’ve lost more weight. I can feel your ribs poking into my forearms.”
“That might have something to do with the fact that I haven’t eaten in months. Have you forgotten that we spent most of our time in bed, stoned or drunk? It’s a wonder I’m not a raging alcoholic.”
Mark moved closer. “Don’t be angry, Blondie. I know I’ve been missing in action for a while but there’s never been any expectation between us, so what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I’m sick of not knowing what day it is or where you are. I’m tired, I ache all over and you don’t give a shit. And some expectations would be nice for a fucking change!”
Mark took a step back, a first for him, and eyed me cautiously, waiting to see if my tirade would continue. “Come to bed, then. Let me take your pain away.”
“You can’t just waltz in here and expect a fuck, Mark. It doesn’t work like that anymore.”
“Why not? You know you always feel better afterwards. We could do some speed, have a bit of fun.”
“You didn’t hear a word I said did you? I don’t want you to make me feel better. I don’t want any drugs. I’m busy.”
“What’s so important that you can’t come to bed with me? I want to feel you near me and hold you while you sleep.”
I could feel myself wavering. To feel his chest, strong against me would be so soothing. To be wrapped in his dark embrace.
He stood expectantly in the doorway but I wasn’t going to yield.
“Prof. Philips is sending my work to Sydney. He says its good enough to be published in a book of student works their putting together. I have to find that poem. It’s my best one.”
“Does the poem have a name? I’ll help you look. Then we can go to bed.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to bed with you. This is my life.”
Sheepishly, Mark moved away. He looked as if he didn’t recognise me. The Bella he knew was not in control. The girl he knew was easily led, always at his beck and call, a slave to his pleasure. This was another girl and I didn’t care whether he liked her or not. She was me.
The rustle of papers and my tired sighs were the only sounds in the room for the next twenty minutes as we continued our fruitless search until, exasperated, he held his hands up in hopelessness, “I
t would help if I knew what I was looking for….”
“It’s called ‘Euphoria’.”
Cursing, he tossed more papers to the floor. Then everything went silent. He had stopped. In his grasp were some handwritten sheets, filled with my loopy, girly handwriting and decorated with jagged, morbid doodlings. “This it?”
“Please don’t read it,” I begged. The wall clock ticked like a drum, where I hadn’t heard it ten seconds before and I could hear him breathing with it as he frowned onto the page.
Euphoria
He comes to me, my Dark Prince
And wraps me in his hellish embrace, but never in his love.
I flounder
I sink
I drown
In the night time ocean of his eyes, but never in his love.
And then he saves me
We drift in the darkness of his soul,
In the yellowing of my bruises he hides his heart
He lifts me up to ride on the powdery sky
A sprinkling of snowy words he gives, but never his love
Only this false euphoria.
He looked at me. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Is this what you think of me?”
“Please, give it to me.”
His mouth had formed an angry slash, “I said, is this what you think of me?”
“No, it’s what I think of myself, it’s what I’ve become. I don’t want to be that girl anymore.”
He handed me the sheets. “I have to go.”
Suddenly his mood had changed.
***
The Dark Prince was singing. His husky voice traveled across the room, seeping into my bones. Even when I was straight, and I hadn’t felt the need to take anything for months, he was still precariously beautiful. Captivating. That night, he was even more so as his presence filled the room, his midnight eyes drilled into me and his muscular body strutted and preened. He exuded sex appeal.
The boys and I were standing in our usual spot, listening. It was so much easier now that the affair was out in the open and I didn’t have to skulk in corners like some person on the witness protection program. I knew they didn’t approve but at least we were talking and things were back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be when you had a rock god for your lover.
