The Art of Falling | HIATUS

bros

The sad-looking, brown boxes covering every white space and corner of my bedroom continued to stare back at me, longing to be opened and emptied of their contents. Admittedly, they probably should've been emptied days ago - and then I would actually be able to see my bedroom floor - considering we'd come home having met Rosa and Helen at the airport on Monday, and it was now Thursday. But that wasn't the case. I hadn't been able to find the motivation nor the energy to take part in activity involving movement of any kind, especially the organisational kind. Even dragging my lifeless body out of the familiar, warmth of my bed seemed like an extremely unappealing concept. Instead, the past three days had been spent either sleeping in that very same cozy bed until late afternoons having suffered some (what my Mum considered only 'mild') jetlag from the long flight (she was wrong), or spending time with Rosa.

It was the little things I enjoyed about spending time with Rosa: from her inappropriate and unique sense of humour to her shared passion for horror films and TLC (the 90's R&B band that is, not tummy loving care, but we were passionate about that too). But mostly the air of comfort, familiarity and coolness she so easily obtained and filled every room with which she entered. There was never a dull, awkward or uncomfortable moment between us.

And today I was determined to find out the truth; what had been bothering Rosa so much these past few years – so much so, she felt like she couldn't confide in me about it. There were certain unspoken rules of our friendship, such as always being truthful and honest with each other, meaning I was either insanely paranoid or this something that had been bothering Rosa was too big to confide in me about. And that was worrying.

The faint, yet persistent knocking at the front door from downstairs awoke me from another one of my slumbers. That, and the constant, raucous barking of Jim. When I heard the door open and the squeals that followed I could only assume it was Rosa on the other side.

"Ebby! Rosa's here!" my Mum shouted from downstairs. I winced at the volume, and shifted myself up onto my elbows and began wiping the sleep from my eyes, resulting in an unintentional poke in the eye.

Leaping onto my bed to join in collapsing next to me, and squashing her face deep into the pillow besides mine, Rosa turned and smiled at me. She was still wearing her dark blue, rain coat which looked damp, and bought a smile to my face as this meant that it must've still been raining outside. In fact, it hadn't actually stopped raining all week. Anyone would think that I was senile considering I had lived in Australia for five and a half years where the sun didn't seem to have a curfew, which meant constant opportunities to tan, endless barbeques and beautiful beach days. But after a while, the novelty of it all wore off and instead the endless heat seemed too much. Damp, quiet, rainy days appealed to me more than scorching hot, busy ones ever would. Even the faint smell of rain was heavenly to me. It was the scent of home.

"What time is it?" I asked Rosa who had now turned over onto her back, but inclined her head towards me slightly. She looked down at her wrist and twisted the face of her watch towards her with her other hand.

"Just gone two," she answered. I sighed into my hands and fell back onto the bed, turning to look back at Rosa again. She was currently propped up on her elbows, occupied by the state of my room.

"So I can tell by the boxes of crap everywhere that unpacking has gone really well?"

"Um. Yeah, I have no liable excuse. I should've unpacked days ago," I smirked.

She grinned back at me. "Honestly, I'm not surprised," she said, fiddling with the stray hairs of her fringe.

"Well I think they look great. Y'know, it gives off a real authentic vibe. Kinda like something you'd see in... Bedrooms Weekly," I spoke again.