Friendship on Fire (42 page)

I'd heard enough. I took off running again, this time down the large sand dune, taking steps too large for me not to face plant into the sand under normal circumstances. I didn't care; I had to get away. Footsteps thumped in the sand behind me and I heard Roman's voice call urgently, ‘Daisy, please stop.'

Stop for what? Certainly the wrong reasons, for you,
I replied sadly inside my head.

The tearing feeling within stretched to breaking point and I was left winded and faint. Worst of all, alone.

And then my voice went utterly mute.

I don't remember how I made it home. The moments immediately after what I now call ‘the betrayal' are blurred and anything after the event with Roman are completely dormant inside a locked cavity in my brain, where only repressed memories go. Who took me home; I'm not sure either. How things were left at the party, I couldn't ever handle the knowledge.

I only remember the worried look in my parents' eyes as I shut mine, shivering uncontrollably under the safe covers of my doona. The shock inside my head and heart had now spread to every nerve in my body and I ceased to function.

Then it was midday the next day.

I opened my eyes and squinted into the offending daylight. For a split second it was like any other day. The haze of adjusting mind and body to a new day shielded my pain and I wondered why I had slept in so late and why no one had woken me yet.

The movie played in my head again. The body language, the bushes, the sheer publicity of their indiscretion. I bent over my bed as my stomach dry retched, over and over.

He was mine. He was supposed to stay mine. What happened between us was ours, to be kept in a safe place for no one to share. That was the standard I held myself to. It was the reciprocal hope I clung to when I gave everything to him not even a week ago.

In vain.

How could I ever distract myself from this feeling? It had attached itself to my senses, like a cancerous tumour. It affected every waking minute, no matter how frequently my mind changed subjects.

How did a wounded heart recover from the worst kind of deal breaker; infidelity?

And yet, a part of my mind still tried to promise with every piece of fervent fibre, that it could be forgotten. With one small decision, things could go back to the way they were and I could keep moving forward in love and learning.

How I desperately wanted to believe this minority voice; to call Nate and ask him to take me out for dinner again, to feel his hands on my body the way he'd taught me to like it and to shut Rachael out of my life so as to never have a reminder of Nate's temptation.

If I had agreed to my mind's insane demand, it would have lasted but a few minutes before the roar of soundless imagery returned to my reality, to grip my heart more tightly than before with its taunts.

No, there was to be no forgetting the few seconds that ruined my chance of happiness with Nate, along with the destruction of my friendship with Rachael.

The discovery of Roman's own lie was an extra painful add-on to my trauma; the reason for his cover up until now still unknown.

My rollercoaster life, as I knew it, had stopped mid air, throwing off all passengers except me. Me? I was left dangling from the highest point possible on the ride; clinging to my seatbelt with two fingers, desperately not wanting to acknowledge my fate should I fall.

I laughed soundlessly, bitterly, as I realised the irony of the situation before me. My seatbelt had failed me; I was going to fall regardless.

Sitting at the edge of my bed, head in hands, my eyes caught a glimpse of the shiny necklace hanging on the lamp that was Nate's gift to me only three months before.

It was then that my two fingers buckled, sliding off the seatbelt for good, and I plunged into darkness.

etness on my pillow woke me and it was black with darkness in my room.
How embarrassing,
I thought groggily.
Have I drooled all over
myself in my sleep?
My lamplight revealed the extent of wetness, as well as the raw, salty patch across both sides of my nose and down my right cheek. The urge to scratch my eyes was uncontrollable, the lashes still wet and cold from recent weeping. What time was it? Had I cried in my sleep, yet managed to sleep most of the day?

No one had bothered me. Why? The iron claw gripped my heart again and pulled. My stomach followed, resenting the automatic reaction to the memory barely twenty-four hours ago.

Maybe, if I could sleep long enough, I would one day wake up and not feel this kind of pain. Maybe I could skip this episode in my life and jump to the next, having possibly learnt nothing from it in the process.

That sounds OK,
my head reasoned.
I can get another boyfriend. Someone who treats me well and would never cheat.

The image in my eyes changed to Roman, blue eyes sparkling as he frowned at my delusional face. His lips softly pressed against mine, his arms caressed my back and arms.

He had kissed me back.

Not for simply a second, but a noticeable amount of time, before I was pushed away by him also and introduced to his stranger girlfriend.

Oh.

Was this the distraction James had been talking about when he fobbed me off last week? Remembering that conversation in retrospect, my head threatened to blacken again if I wasn't careful with it.

The image changed back to Nate while I was still kissing Roman and with a twist of bitter pleasure I remembered every night the past week, learning everything Nate had chosen to teach me. How quickly the faces could change between each other now; how wrong that was.

I sighed, defeated.

The new information arising in my head only added to the million questions and scenes already there, mutating and convoluting such that it felt like everyone had intertwined and conspired against me.

Surely not Roman.

But, then, surely not Rachael?

Surely not the person you told you loved only a week ago? And who hadn't said it back. I was now powerless, unable to take any pride back from Nate's grasp. And how could I? I hadn't left myself with anything to steal back.

What was one lie against another? Roman hadn't told me about his girlfriend, for whatever reason, and he'd had the chance to for a long time. As far as my survival mode was concerned, he was now in the mix with the rest of them.

I grabbed my phone off my bedside table to check the time. Three-thirty on Monday morning. My stomach growled wildly, but I feared food. What if I ate a whole pizza and then barfed it because I remembered Nate on top of Rachael in the sand? It wasn't worth it.

I coughed bitterly as my stomach threatened to hurl itself out of my body. I had to distract myself.

Messages and missed calls flashed across my phone screen. Before I could make the decision to ignore them and try something else, my traitor eyes saw who they were from.

Nate, Rachael, Roman. Big surprise. Quickly I scrolled through the messages, already fearing their subject content.

‘Daisy, I know you won't want to hear this …' Rachael's started.

‘Daisy, answer my calls, it's not what it looks like, we need to talk …' Nate's started.

‘Daisy, when you are feeling better, please let me know …' Roman's started.

They all sounded the same. They could all go to hell.

I flung my arm back and then forward, throwing my phone as hard as I could at the far wall of my room. I watched with grim satisfaction as it splayed into pieces across the carpet.

Within seconds, a light went on in the hallway.

Silently I cursed myself; I could have chosen a better time to make such a racket. I wished I could act like I was asleep; blame a green gremlin for destroying the household peace and quiet.

Mum opened the door and stood with her hands on her hips.

‘Daisy, what in the world …' she whispered hotly while she assessed the damage on the floor.

‘Sorry, it was an accident,' I lied.

She opened her mouth to retaliate but thought better of it.

‘You've been sleeping for a while, why don't you get up with me and I'll make you some food?' Her eyes revealed concern and I feared for my sanity if she tried to make me talk to her about my ‘feelings'.

‘No thanks, not hungry,' I lied again.

‘You're going to have to eat sometime,' her dietitian voice warned.

‘And I will, but not now. Sorry I woke you. Go back to bed, I'm fine.' I got back into bed and pulled my doona over me to prove it.

‘If you say so. See you in the morning,' she whispered and shut the door silently.

My lungs crumbled under a new weight of loneliness, not being able to talk to anyone now, and tears formed in my already exhausted eyes.

I managed to convince my parents that I needed three days off school to recover from a rare case of insomnia I'd developed since the weekend. I knew they didn't buy it, but they didn't have the heart to send me to school, so it was a win-win situation. For me.

I shut myself in my room and did what any girl with a broken heart would do in the same situation: I cried most of the day and night and cancelled work and sport.