Annie
The lilies dominate my desk, my room, and my mind for ten intense days. When they start to wilt, I remove them from the jar, tie the stems together, and hang them upside down to dry. It takes them three days to die. I leave them hanging there until Christmas, until all the life and colour are gone. Once I’ve cleaned and dried the jar, I return the flowers to it. According to the internet, dried flowers can last up to one year. Hopefully by then I’ll be ready to bin them.
On Christmas morning, Bridget and I eat cereal for breakfast while the rest of the city open presents and telephone loved ones. We sit on the terrace listening to the city until it’s too hot to remain outside, then retreat indoors for a movie marathon. We still have an enormous backlist of films we’re working through, filled with swearing, sex, and graphic violence.
‘I love Christmases with you,’ I tell Bridget late that night under the fog of gin. We’re seated in the middle of the sofa instead at either end.
‘I love Christmases with you too,’ she says without looking at me.
‘Even when the sex scenes come on and we both have to pretend we’re not embarrassed?’
Now she looks at me, eyes creasing at the corners. ‘Especially then.’
Five days later, Bridget has agreed to be my plus-one at Chris’s New Year’s party. She gravitates towards intelligent conversation and always has something remarkable to contribute. She’s surprisingly social in these situations, maybe because she gets to be whoever she wants with strangers. It’s the people who know her that she struggles with.
A little before midnight, I gather with my TAFE friends, and we count down from twenty. We shout the numbers in unison, plastic flutes in hand. Then everyone yells, ‘Happy New Year!’
Fireworks sound in the distance, far from our limited view. People turn to those around them, clinking cups and hugging. Chris turns to me, and we’re both smiling. I think he’s going to hug me, but he kisses me on the mouth. And just like that, my mood deflates. I knew it was coming, though. He’s spent most of the night at my side, refilling my cup and trying to anticipate my hunger. And if I’m honest, it felt nice for a while.
Having someone tell you that you look beautiful is nice.
Having someone bring you nibbles on a plate is nice.
Feeling wanted, desired is nice.
I’ve enjoyed these things a little too much tonight. I’ve led him on. That’s why he kissed me on the mouth and no one else.
Chris drapes an arm over my shoulders, and it feels a lot like a claim I haven’t agreed to. My eyes meet Bridget’s across the room, and I feel exposed and ugly. The pity in her eyes has me slipping out from under his arm and seeking out a hiding place.
‘Where are you going?’ Chris calls to my back.
I look over my shoulder. ‘Bathroom.’ It’s the only place he won’t follow me.
Only when I lock the door and the noise dulls do I realise I’m drunk. One glance at the mirror confirms it. My make-up’s a little smudged, and my eyes are wobbly. At least I can draw breath in here. The weight of Chris’s arm was too much, and now I’m trying not to cry.
I stare at myself in the mirror, missing someone who isn’t Chris.
There are moments when I’m fine and moments when I’m paralysed by feelings I can’t for the life of me move past. How is it that I’m still in this place two years on?
Pulling out my phone, I open a text message to Hunter. I’m drunk, so it’s fine. I excuse the bad behaviour before it’s even occurred.
Annie: I’m so exhausted.
Hunter: Big night?
Annie: Sure, but that’s not why I’m exhausted. When will it get easier?
A few minutes go by before I get a reply.
Hunter: I’ll let you know when I get there.
I cover my mouth to stop the sob rising up my throat. It’s the closest we’ve come to saying ‘I miss you’ since I left. It’s dangerous territory. If I’m not careful, one of us will end up calling, and there will be no turning back once I hear his voice.
Hunter: Whatever happened tonight, it’s okay.
He knows. Of course he knows. He knows like I knew last New Year’s Eve. It doesn’t even matter if we act on our temptations or not. It’s having them in the first place that feels like betrayal.
Hunter: You at a party?