The next morning I am awake by 5am, my first lecture starts at 7. This is going to be a long day. I groggily pull myself from fitful sleep and shower. The water hits me like a cascade of rain but I'm too much in a daze to notice. I am not a morning person. I leave at half 6, already running late, and grab my bike from its place in the shed. I cycle quickly to the campus; I have no time to enjoy the ride.
After a flustered morning, I finally reach the lecture hall 3 minutes early, I let out the sigh caught in my chest. It's a performance seminar today and the lecturer doesn't seem to particularly like me. The register is called and I can feel the panic rising already.
The lecturer stands at the front of the class, her stature straight and rigid. She scans the classroom, her eyes meeting mine above the rim of her glasses.
"Right then." She starts, "Today we are going to start with a little exercise. I am going to pick some..." She pauses for a second, "volunteers." Her voice is harsh, the t's too pronounced and her s's like that of a snake. "I would like you to stand at the front and tell us a little about a piece you are working on. Right. Lets start with, shall we say..." Her beady eyes circle the room. I look down. The ring on my pointer finger is wonky. I straighten it.
"Alison." She smiles at me, but there is no encouragement behind it. I hate my full name.
I hold my breath and embark down to the front of the hall. I'm acutely aware of the echo of my footsteps on the wooden floor. Will my voice carry that far too?
"I, I." I stammer.
"Speak up." A person calls from the back.
"So, I'm working on a song by Alberto Ginastera."
"It's a piece, not a song." My lecturer sounds exasperated.
"Sorry," I mutter, "It's an excerpt from his Harp Concerto. I think it was first performed in 1965." I hope the date is right.
"Alison, you need to know not think." She tuts at me and I see the spit shoot from her mouth with her k syllable. "Sit back down then if you don't know anything. I will pick a more advanced student." She smiles at me again.
I am so ashamed. I lower my head as I walk back to my seat, hiding my face behind my hair. Why can't I get anything right?
Another student, Danielle Stein (the bane of my existence) leans over to me when I sit, "Nice try Alison." She is speaking in a sarcastic belittling tone. She leans back again and I hear her laugh with her friends, "She's a freak," I hear her say. They remind me of a pack of hyenas.
************
Luckily, I manage to hide for the rest of my day and it flows without commotion. The morning has been playing on my mind though, and now, as I cycle home, I lock it away in my brain. I can't deal with the panic so I pretend that I'm fine. By the time I'm home, I'm surprisingly in good spirits. I grab a pot noodle and head for my room.
Just as I finish eating, Cam struts in and poses. My room - his apparent runway.
"How do I look?" He asks taking a spin to show me the outfit. It's a striking ensemble. He adorns blue skinny jeans and silver shirt, silver. And his hat is, well ... different. I think people call it a deerstalker but, to me, it's a Shelock Holmes hat. It doesn't quite match.
"Fabulous." I smile at him, "But maybe drop the hat. Off to somewhere nice?"
"A date. Something sophisticated. Me and Gary have decided that we would like to get to know each other. See if we could be a serious thing. You remember Gary right?"
I smile, "How could I forget?"
"True! Anyway, my Cab is here, I should head off. See ya later Hun." he blows me a kiss across the room and takes his exit, still wearing the hat. I hear the front door go soon after.
With nothing else to do, I put The Lion King on and snuggle under my duvet, cuddling my old sock teddy close. Before I know it, I've fallen asleep.
I wake up to the sound of the front door, is that Cam? I light up my alarm clock. It's 5am. I thought he said not long? He had been gone for about 9 hours.
I trundle downstairs, brushing off the sleep as I walk. I see Cam at the bottom, swaying.
"Hey, you okay?" I call, making my way down the steps.
"I'm suuuper drunk." He slurs
"I can see. How much did you drink?" You can hear the worry creeping into my voice.
He goes to answer but ends up crying. He crumples to the floor. I've never seen him like this, this drunk, this downtrodden, this defeated.
"Hey, hey it's ok. I'm here. What's wrong?" I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his thin frame. I feel his sobs under my arms and his body heaves with emotion.
"Gary is married."
"That Jerk!" I exclaim.
"No, I should have known. My relationships always fail before they start."
I hate this feeling. I hate feeling helpless. I hate that I can't make him happier and I hate that I can't numb his pain.
"I'm sorry Cam. Please don't be upset, you will find someone, don't lose hope. Don't blame yourself for this, he should have been honest from the start. Come on, let's get you something to eat."
We finally make it to the living room, after a lot of encouragement on my part.
"I'm a shit-storm." He states and leans against the windowsill. He pauses, clearly in deep thought, "I love you Al, I mean I really love you."
"I love you too Cam, but more so when you are a little less drunk."
"You are like my actual sister and I would die for you. Like really, really dead. I love you so much like, like.."
His sentence trails off as he sits himself on the floor, picking at the rug.
He sits for a few minutes in silence.
"I'm a shit-storm."
"Okay Cam."
**************
I bring him some crumpets with marmite. My Gramps swears it is the ultimate food when you are ill - I hope it works the same on the intoxicated. I pass him the plate and watch as he takes a bite and contorts his face in disgust. He puts the crumpet back on the plate and skids it across the room. "Eew." He proclaims. He's flagging now, I can see his eyelids drooping. I am not dragging him to bed - It was hard enough getting him into the living room, let alone up the stairs to his own room. And so I watch as he falls asleep on the downstairs rug. His face is softer now, almost childlike, with an innocence to it. I tuck a pillow under his head and pull the throw off the sofa to cover him. I grab a bottle of water and some paracetamol to prop next to him, he might actually need them this time when he wakes up. I scrawl a note on the back of an old envelope for when he wakes up.
Hey Cam,
Hope you're not feeling too bad this morning (Or afternoon)! I will probably be at work when you wake up and read this. I don't know how much you will remember of last night but I need you to know that I will always be there for you. As for Gary, you are far too spectacular for him anyway.
There is some left over pizza in the fridge, feel free to eat it! I'll be back by dinner time.
See ya,
Al x
(P.s. you are never a shit-storm)
I leave it folded next to the water and medicine and head back to bed. He will be ok, he's Cam - I tell myself.
YOU ARE READING
Joining the Dots
Fiksi Umum"Life doesn't come gently, it hits you all at once. A tsunami of events." "Anxiety makes being a musician hard. Anxiety makes life hard. My passion, my dreams seem so far away. I could touch it all once, but once is distant now." "I want to be happy...
