GOING WITH IT

‘I was used as a medium once.’ Joanne sips from her beer and nods. She is a teacher at another school in Medan, at Toba to relax for the weekend with her husband John. Julie knows her so we’ve joined tables in this gently lit and wall-less restaurant. Crickets are rubbing their wings in the undergrowth. The large full moon throws a line of shimmering white across the lake’s surface beyond their noise. The hills the darkest of blue under the mass of stars that decorate the sky.

‘Here’s a good story,’ says John, small and scrawny and henpecked beside the tall and hippy and overbearing Joanne.

A good story. Right. Can’t wait. My head pulses behind one eye, the result of grass and beer in the sun followed by a late-afternoon nap. I hope the coolness of the evening that envelops this little place by the lake will help to ease it.

‘Go on, tell it.’ Julie’s eyes are nearly out of her head and her hands are strangling the neck of her beer bottle.

Jussy is leaning back in his seat, staring out into the darkness. Marty is leaning in, his head close to Julie’s. Kim is still smoking grass and looking around the restaurant with bemused red eyes.

‘Well, I went to a spiritualist meeting in Brisbane to keep a friend company and watched this woman with wild hair prance around this stage trying to find people to use her crap on. It really was a load of crap and she was a fraud, but my mate soaked it up. But this woman sitting on my other side’—she points to a spot to her left—‘kept looking at me in the darkness, and every time I looked at her she didn’t even look away.’

‘Did she live on Lesby Avenue?’ Kim sniggers and rubs his eyes.

‘At the end,’ Joanne carries on, ‘the lights come on and this woman leans over and tells me I have the gift. I just laugh and say, “Well, if it’s the same as hers, I’m giving it back.” She then says that I really have the gift. That the woman on stage was a fraud. But with me, with me, she could feel the energy coming off me.’

John is smiling beside her, pride gushing from him. ‘So she hands me and my mate a card and tells us to call her. She’d like me to help at a séance.’

‘No way,’ Julie’s beer bottle is having its neck well and truly wrung.

‘Yep. Anyway my mate is really up for seeing my powers and I’m sort of curious in a cynical way, but sort of intrigued too, so we go.’

She pauses to sip her water while Hubby nods his head. ‘There’s only four other people there, all wanting to talk to their dead better halves, at which point I nearly go, but this bloody woman grabs me and asks me to please stay because I really do have a gift. So I sit and the next thing she’s talked me into being the host for a ghost.’

‘No way,’ whispers Julie. She’s caught.

I want to leave. My head is worse and my patience is wearing thin. The last thing I want is another dukun moment.

—So leave.

I laugh; short and sharp and loud. The others look at me.

‘Just got Kim’s Lesby joke.’ I wave my beer at him. ‘Very good, Kim.’

Kim raises his bottle at me.

I look at my knees

—Don’t tell me you’ve made an appearance because this woman says she’s a medium?

—Just thought it was time to annoy you, was all. Get you back for sleeping with little Miss Prozzy. And see how New You is getting on.

—New Me is fine. Having fun without you and the Ice-Cream Boy. It’s been a while. I’d forgotten you.

—Right. As if.

—Anyway, I’m listening to her story.

—But you think stuff like that is bollocks.

—True. I also think you chattering away in my head is bollocks too, so right now, she is the less bollocky of my options. So shush, I missed some of her story.

‘So I’m sat in this chair and she’s summoned the spirits and suddenly someone’s in me. I’ve gone cold and can’t feel my limbs and some bastard is trying to make my mouth move from within.’

‘Fuuuck.’ Kim is all blinking red eyes and open mouth.

‘I hated it, so I took control and shouted, “No. Get out.”’

‘And?’ Julie sucks the last dregs of life from her bottle.

‘And whoever it was left and I ran from that place and never tried it again since.’

‘Bullshit.’ Jussy has swivelled around to join the table.

‘It is not. Joanne has a gift. She senses things, don’t you, Joanne.’ Little hubby is rubbing wife’s back.

‘I can. All sorts of things. Evil or good in houses, stress in people, possessed people. I sometimes have psychic visions.’ She is nodding to herself.

—Ask her about me, says Laura, standing behind me, hands on my shoulder.

—Don’t be ridiculous.

‘I can even sense there’s something here, tonight, around this table.’

Joanne’s eyes are closed and she tilts her head from side to side. ‘Someone.’

—Oooh.

—Shut it.

‘Oh, Joanne, no, fuck off. No.’ Julie leans back in her chair and rubs her hair while she looks around the restaurant.

During the silence that follows I almost expect someone to scream. Hopefully not me. I’m willing Joanne not to look at me.

—Look at Ice-Cream Boy.

—No, don’t.

—Do.

—Don’t.

Before Joanne opens her eyes I’m aware of someone else standing behind me, not Laura, she seems to have suddenly cleared off. I look around. Instead of her and her green eyes and black hair and sarcasm and love, there is a man of about thirty, with tattooed arms, a shaved head, and a long pink ponytail sprouting from his shiny pate.

‘Sorry, but couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and just wondered if you’d mind me joining. I love these sort of stories. Got some beliefs of my own about other dimensions.’ His voice is British and surprisingly well-spoken.

‘Bet you have,’ says Kim. ‘Do share, man.’

I sneak a look at Joanne to make sure she isn’t studying me, isn’t getting ready to denounce me as haunted person, but she’s just looking down and stroking the back of her hand.

There’s a scrape of wood across stone as Pink Ponytail pulls up a chair and Julie moves round so he can squeeze in.

‘That’s a really cool story. I’m Derek, by the way.’ His hand is offered and all shake it.

‘What’s your story then, man?’ Kim’s eyes are ready to drop from their sore-looking sockets.

‘Well, I been travelling a while now.’ He reaches behind his head and strokes his tail. ‘Ten years. Seen nearly all of Asia, Africa, South America. I’ve done every continent’s drugs and shit.’

My head is thumping harder.

‘And I’ve had some weird trips, and on some of those trips I’ve really been places.’

Jussy yawns then apologises.

‘You alright, Jussy?’ Marty asks.

‘Yeah, man. Just chilled and a bit bored of the drug stuff. Sorry, Derek, but heard this before. Let me guess, you’ve seen places that really exist, met people that really exist in these places and you could only go there after some heavy hallucinogen. Yeah?’

An unusually vocal moment for Jussy.

‘Yes. That’s it. But it was real and I’ve been there a few times.’

Kim is giggling and bangs his head on the table.

‘Fuuuck. Take me there.’

For a moment we all look at Kim. He looks back at us through slow-moving eyes.

‘What?’

‘Think you need to slow down on the grass, Kimbo.’ I say.

‘Who the fuck are you to tell me that? Don’t fucking tell me what to do.’ The sudden aggression tenses everyone around the table for a second and I have no reply.

Julie tells him to chill.

‘I am fucking chilled. You lot fucking chill. Fuck.’ He shakes his head, swigs his beer and laughs. ‘Everyone suddenly wants to mother me, fuck. Get on with your story.’

‘OK man.’ Derek swallows then coughs. ‘So, yeah, I took some LSD or something and I literally flew out from my body and where I was, right out over the town, and I could see everything clearly below me, houses and trees and cars, and then out over the sea, then I landed really gently on this green grassy island and met some really nice people. It was, I know it sounds weird, just a really warm friendly place. Then I just took off and floated back to me, opened my eyes and knew I’d really been somewhere. Somewhere real, but not on this Earth.’

‘I’ve heard of those places too,’ says Joanne. ‘I believe in them. Lots of drug users believe they have really gone somewhere out of our time and dimension.’

‘Really?’ I ask. Why have I asked that? Don’t even consider it to be true, you idiot. But what if it is? It isn’t.

—What if it is?

—It isn’t.

—Time: fields and fields of moments. Or maybe islands and islands of moments, where you can hop from one and onto another.

I whack my forehead with my hand and the smacking sound makes me jump more than the pain.

‘Jesus, Newbie.’ This is Marty. I nearly forgot he was there. In fact I nearly forgot everyone was there. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘Mosquito. On my head. Squashed it.’ I pretend to rub something off my hand.

‘I sense something in you.’

Oh shit, no.

Joanne is up and standing behind me before I can move my chair back and leave. I can smell patchouli on her.

‘Stress. You are stressed and troubled.’

‘Er, no. Just a headache. That’s all.’

‘I can help.’

‘No really.’

‘I won’t touch you. Wait. I promise I can make you feel better.’

‘Yeah. Go on. Exorcise Newbie.’ Kim bangs his bottle on the table.

‘Really. I practise healing.’

Healing and a medium. What a girl.

‘It will help. Just relax your shoulders and keep your head still.’

—Go on. Open your mind, numbnuts.

Laura laughs and it rolls around my head like a dropped cymbal in a hall.

I let Joanne do her thing. Her open palms are just a couple of inches from each of my temples. The smell of patchouli is stronger. She slowly moves her hands in little circles.

‘Close your eyes.’

I do. I can’t not. I don’t want to protest too much. The table is silent and everyone is watching. The silence only breaks when Kim mutters something under his breath every few seconds.

‘Relax. Just feel the warmth. Can you feel the warmth?’

I can feel the warmth. Her hands are giving off warmth. And it’s soaking into my head. Little warm spots.

Nice.

Tension is going from all over my body. It’s actually nice.

‘Just let it go. Feel my energy.’ Patchouli, all herbal and fresh, getting stronger, weaker, stronger, weaker with each little rotation.

Nice. Really nice. Don’t stop. My headache’s slipping away like ice down a sink.

—There. See. Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. Laura smiles gently somewhere. Her face just visible in the shadows.

Joanne takes her hands slowly away, but the warmth is still there, fading, like the last ember in a fire. My headache gone.

‘How’s that?’ Joanne slides back into her seat next to smiling, proud husband.

I just nod and smile.

‘There. See. Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,’ she says.

My mouth opens, nothing comes out.

‘I told you I sense all sorts of things.’ She winks and smiles. ‘All sorts of things.’

‘This is exactly why I asked to join you lot.’ Derek is now alternating between stroking his bald head and his ponytail. ‘Love meeting people like you lot.’

I’m pleased he speaks. The attention is off me, although Joanne’s eyes meet mine for another second. She gives me another smile, a secret smile, that no one else sees, and I smile back.

I’m losing it.

I take a sip and it tastes like mud. It looks like lots of little turds in a glass of hot water.

‘Don’t you like it?’ Julie is sitting next to me, licking her lips after taking a large mouthful of hers. She chews on one of the little brown lumps.

‘Tastes like mud, looks like poo.’

A ball plonks down a hole on the pool table in the corner of the bar. Kim bangs his cue on the floor.

‘Oh yes. Watch out, Paul Newman.’ He lines up the next ball, brings his arm back and thwacks it. The ball bounces from cushion to cushion, sending most of the other balls it hits into a whirling frenzy that ends with the target ball coming to rest just by the top corner pocket. The Batak Indonesian he’s playing with smiles. Teeth protrude from his tight lips at a forty-five degree angle. His hair is held back by a red bandanna and his eyes bulge out almost as far as his teeth. He eyes the notes on the edge of the table as if they are all already his. I understand why as he takes his shot, pots a ball, then another, then another. Kim looks on, nursing his cup of mushroom tea like it’s a cup of bedtime cocoa.

‘Have some more.’ Julie is holding my tea in front of me. ‘It’s an acquired taste, but the results are stunning.’

I examine the dark mushrooms piled up in my glass. I have no one to answer to, no one to preach to me.

—What about me?

Ignoring her, I gulp a mouthful and feel three slimy objects slip into my mouth.

—Go on then. Swallow. I’m intrigued to see what happens to you.

I swirl them around, give them a quick chew and swallow. They slide down my throat like shitty oysters. I hope the mud taste is the mushrooms and not mud.

‘They grow in water-buffalo shit, you know. That’s why they’re so potent.’

Julie takes another swig of the strange solid drink.

—Mm. Nice. Bet you feel good.

I close my eyes and will her to leave. For a moment she is fully formed and visible behind my eyelids. Smiling and beautiful, alive and floating there. I clamp my eyes shut until she becomes a blot of dark colours and then blackness. That was easy.

When I open my eyes the room is blurry for a second and then clears to a more vivid place. The colours seem a little more, what, colourful? Kim and the Batak are setting up another frame. Marty and one of Batak’s friends have joined them to play doubles. Jussy is chatting to a very short girl with a large head up at the bamboo bar. Pink Ponytail has been left behind in the restaurant with Psychic Jo and adoring husband to discuss the afterlife and out-of-body balls. I’m happy they aren’t here, in this less backpacky bar away from the lake. Other people sit around, chatting in their little groups, becoming more there as I watch.

‘Bloody hell.’ Julie has slouched back in her chair with her feet up under her. Her elbow is touching mine. I’m sitting back with my feet up on the little wooden table in front of us.

‘What?’

‘This is working quick.’

‘It is. Is it?’

There is no more talk while we watch Kim and Marty lose another frame. The Bataks aren’t smiling or laughing, just taking the money like it’s theirs. Watching from over here is like watching a film. The characters are so obvious; two stupid tourists being taken for a ride by two locals who have seen idiots like them in here every night, getting stoned and playing like amateurs and handing over money like it’s nothing more than paper.

‘His teeth are getting bigger.’ Julie’s finger waggles at Bandana Batak.

She’s right. How the hell is that happening?

‘That’s cannibals for you. Big fucking teeth getting ready for the kill.’

I look to Julie and then back to Batak. Those teeth are definitely sticking out more. Heading for ninety degrees rather than forty-five. And his eyes…

‘And his eyes, they’re bulging more.’

Julie leans forward and squints.

‘Shit. They are. Shit.’ Her mouth hangs open.

‘Do you think his ancestors really ate people?’ Batak looks down the end of his cue as he bends over the table, but his eyes aren’t on the ball, they’re on me, bulging at me. He grins and his teeth are more pointed, like a shark’s.

‘Tell me it’s the mushrooms.’ I look at my glass. Half empty. Half full? Can’t be bothered with that discussion. Have another gobful, take away the argument and the psychoanalysis. Mud, mud, glorious mud. Mud pies, little me in the back garden eating my mud pies. No wonder I was sick. Gritty mud in my teeth. Scrunch scrunch.

‘It is the ’shrooms. Just go with it. It gets more amusing.’ Julie is alternating between raising one eyebrow and then the other.

‘You exercising?’

‘What?’

‘Eyebrows. You exercising your eyebrows?’

‘No.’ Up, down, up, down, left up, right up, down together. ‘Why?’

‘Thought you were.’

‘Weirdo.’

Kim is suddenly in my face. How did he get here from over there so quickly?

‘We’re going. These guys have fleeced us. Going to the lake to watch the stars do their thing. Coming?’

‘Did they eat anything?’ asks Julie. ‘Have you checked your fingers?’

Kim checks his fingers. Marty checks his behind Kim.

‘Why would they eat my fingers?’

‘‘Cos they got the teeth for it. Skin-tearing teeth. Rip your face off in one peel, like a satsuma.’

Kim blinks at us, says something that has been slowed down somehow to indecipherable and walks slowly out of the bar. It takes about half an hour.

‘See you later.’ Marty is still there, looking at us both, some Cheshire-cat smart-arse condescending smirk on his face. ‘You two are gone already.’

‘Not me.’ say I.

‘Oh yes you are. You never done these before, have you, Newbie?’ What? Done what?

‘Just go with it. Time’s going to go bendy and slow and fast and if things get bad, just go with it. The bad bits will pass. And make sure you watch the star show.’ He laughs and walks away. He shakes hands for an hour with the Batak.

Check your fingers. Check your fucking fingers.

Julie is laughing next to me, her head on my shoulder.

‘What?’

‘This is fucking great. Good ‘shrooms. Good fucking ‘shrooms.’

Am I really stoned already? Is stoned the word for mushroom stoned? Is this a trip? I’ve never tripped before. Have some more mud. Good mud.

‘You two look stoned.’ A man in front of us. A big bulk of a man.

Who’s this?

‘Can I join you?’ The bulk sits.

‘Who’s this?’ I ask Julie.

She shakes her head and shrugs and eyebrow-exercises all at the same time.

Whoever he is, he’s got black hair, white skin and a red eye. Why has he got a red eye?

‘Why have you got a red eye?’ asks Julie.

‘It’s an infection. Picked it up in Penang.’

‘Why have you got a flat head?’ she asks.

‘Eh?’

She’s right. He’s getting a flat head. Fuck it’s flattening out. And… and…

‘You got bolts.’ I point at either side of his neck. ‘Bolts. Why have you got bolts?’

‘I haven’t got bolts.’

But he has, and as I watch they get larger and his head gets flatter and his other eyes turns red.

Julie whispers in my ear, ‘Don’t tell him. He doesn’t know. He’s changing and he doesn’t know.’

‘Oh.’ I start laughing. I look at the flat-head man. How can he not know? He’s turned into the Monster. Bolts. What are the bolts for? Would they really keep a head on? I think about grabbing one and twisting but decide not to. Julie’s laughter is right in my ear. Tears are running down her face.

‘He doesn’t know. Poor bloke. And we’re laughing at him.’

I’m laughing more too. I’ve caught it off Julie. I laugh tears. Happy tears. Happiness shooting up from my stomach. Julie laughs. I look at Frankenstein and he’s gone.

‘He’s gone. Looking for a little girl,’ snorts Julie. ‘Fuck. No other fucker can see all this. Just us.’ We sit there laughing, legs curling up, cheeks wet, muddy mouths. She’s my friend. She can see what I see. I can see what she sees. How cool is that?

Teary watery vision. Big skin-ripping teeth, bulging eyes stare from across the room. I laugh more.

‘We should go. He’s hungry,’ I blurt into Julie’s creased-up face.

‘Yeah. Fuck, drink up and we go. Go let’s go. Yeah. Come on. Go.’

Stumbling feet. More mud. A spaceman’s slow walk across the bar to leave. Jussy waves to us. I wave back, a big slow arc of a wave. Jussy winks and turns back to big-head girl. Bulging eyes everywhere. Wolves circling. Come on, feet; faster. Out. Night and cool. Insects screeching in the grass. Julie’s hand through my arm. One foot in front of the other. And again. And again. This is taking forever. The lake was never this far. One foot, then the other. Slowly. Come on. Before sunrise.

One foot.

The other.

One foot.

The other.

The path is dark, but things start shooting around in the corners of my eyes. Bright white lines like comets. I look around and up. The stars are still, but then one suddenly streaks across the night sky like a comet, leaving a long shining trail. Then another.

‘The stars are falling.’

‘Dancing,’ she says, ‘they’re dancing.’

Finally we turn off the lane and follow a path down some steps and between the blocks of buildings that make up our hotel. Down the steps, down down down. So many of them. How can the lake be down such a steep hill? I’m at the bottom and sitting in a chair, plastic chair, white plastic, rough edges around the arms. I run my fingers along the rough bits, pick at the loose bits. This bit won’t come off. Twist it. Pull it. Ah. It’s free.

‘Fucking Newbie. Fucking Newbie.’ Kim is sitting opposite. His moonlit head is shaking, wobbling, blurring.

‘What?’ How can a word take so long to say? Whaaaaaaaaaaaatttt.

‘Newbie. Newbie be tripping.’ Kim is rocking on his chair. No he’s not. He’s still. No, he’s rocking. No, my head’s rocking. Keep still. Stop moving head. You’ll wake the dead.

‘Ha haaa.’

‘You OK?’ Julie rubs my arm. I push it off. Too close. In my air.

‘Wake the dead. Funny one.’ I rub my arm. It’s hot from Julie’s hand. She’s too hot. I’m too cold?

Silence. The lake is dark. An endless black crater just feet away. Silent and black and deep and still. All around black. Mountains pushing down with blackness. Breathe in. Deep breath. I’m high. That’s all, just high. I spin back to normality. Everyone’s clear; Julie is tapping her knees with clumped-together fingers. Kim is looking from me to Julie. His eyes wide and watery. One second on each of us. God, he’s gone, not me, he’s wasted, not me. Am I? Splashing from the lake. My head spins again. No, don’t go again. Stay here. Stay straight. Marty comes out of the black, dripping black, black eyes in the blackness. Oily black tar running off his body.

‘Great swim. Great. Go on. Jump in. Lie on your back and watch the laser show. Bloody awesome.’ He falls on his behind in front of us.

Laser show? The stars. I look. I’m spinning. Then I’m not. The stars shoot here, there, crossing over each other. None of them stay still. Trails of thin light scar the night sky. I jerk my head in every direction trying to follow them. I never knew they did this.

‘I never knew they did this.’

‘Mushrooms, man. Make you see it all as it really is.’ Kim’s face is skyward. Eyes dart around.

Is that true? Is this as it really is? Is this the real world?

Get a grip. Get a grip get a grip get a grip. Heart beats in my ears every ten seconds. Too slow. It’s too slow. Speed up heart. Speed up. It just gets louder.

Get a grip getagripgetagrip.

Everything’s back. The stars are still. My heart is silent in my ears. Thank you. I don’t like this high. The other three are back in focus. Back to looking real, but mad. Julie tapping and still doing that eyebrow thing, Marty cross-legged smiling at the sky like an alien spacecraft is landing. Kim bulging eyes. He’s talking to himself. Smoking a joint, lit up by the lights of the hotel path, a dark deep mass behind him. But I’m back. I stand.

‘I’m going to—’ My heart. Thump. Where’s the next thump. Where is it? I’m slipping again. Where is that thump? Fuck, my heart’s stopped.

‘My fucking heart’s stopped.’ I claw my chest.

‘Relax. It’s still there, beating. Bendy time, remember.’ Who said that? I look from Marty to Kim to Julie. Back to Marty.

‘Bendy,’ Marty says. ‘Just go with it. Don’t panic.’

I sit again. Shut my eyes. Stars are too much. Too much shooting light.

‘Joint.’ A bullet between my eyes. I open them. Kim’s massive finger is prodding me. Some orange light is shooting around next to it. ‘Joint. Take it. Calm you down.’

I grab the orange light and turn it away so it faces Kim. Strong on my throat. Thump goes my heart. Thumpthumpthump. I give the orange light back. It leaves a trail in the dark. Close my eyes again. Orange trail burnt into them. It moves and wavers and streaks and then fades.

‘You having a bad one?’ Marty’s voice from the dark.

‘Leave him. He’s OK. Aren’t you?’ Hot hand rubbing my arm.

‘Newbie, Newbie. Bad trippin’.’

Bad trippin’? Me? Don’t say that. Shit, what’s a bad trip? Will I come out of it? Sometimes people don’t, they just go mad and stay there, in a mad place. My mouth waters. Swallow. Swallow it away. No vomit. Don’t say vomit. You say vomit you vomit. No vomit. Thump. A tap is on in my mouth. Thump. I can feel it through my chest. Vomit. No. No vomit. Hate vomit. Hot hand. Burning my arm. Get up. Plastic chair caught in my feet. Scrabbling on the floor. Get up. Kim laughing. Fuck you, Septic. Fucking idiot. Stars rain laser fallout on me. My eyes hurt. Thump. My body shakes with the force. Get away. Get away from these things. I can calm on my own. Need quiet. Get away. Climb the steps. One. Two three. Thump. Four. Watery mouth.

Sit. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’ll be OK. Away from them. Small stick people by the lake. Can’t hear them now. Calm down. Come back. I’m coming back. I can grasp normality. Got it. I lean back on the step, put my hands behind me for support. Idiots. Idiot. It’s soft behind me. But isn’t it concrete? I look at my hand. It’s sinking into the step, into the grey concrete. I try to pull it out, but suction is holding it there, like I’m stuck in mud. Pull. Pull. Pullpull-pull. It’s out. But shit. My other hand is sinking too. I pull it out and the concrete makes a sucking sound as the vacuum where my hand was is filled.

‘It’s a bad trip, man.’ Marty is suddenly next to me. His features are wobbling and the lines of him are blurred. He’s half night, half man.

‘Yeah. The steps. Trying to suck me in.’

‘Just a bad trip. Go with it. Don’t stress. It’ll pass.’

I realise I’ve leant back again. My hand is in up to its wrist.

‘Go with it. The comedown’s great. This bit will pass.’ He’s smiling like fucking Gandhi.

‘Thanks, Marty.’ I turn my hand in front of my face. At least the concrete doesn’t stick to me. But Marty, you’re too close. I want alone. Alone. My mouth waters.

‘I promise you’ll get out of it soon.’

‘Thanks, Marty,’ I say. I swallow, fight the need to puke, ‘But please just piss off.’ I spit.

Gandhi smile doesn’t fade.

‘OK. No worries. We’re down there if you need us.’ Marty points back to the blackness and the two white things lurking on its edge. Then he is suddenly down there with them.

Right. Come back. Come on. Come back. It’s just a trip. You won’t puke. You’ll be right as rain. I chant straightness at myself, and after half an hour, an hour, four hours, whatever, I feel a warmth spread across me as the concrete becomes solid and the stars slow down to a stop. I wait and make sure I’m not going to slide again. I count my heartbeats, regular, often, no time delay. I stare at the sky, willing the stars to move. They wobble a little, and shimmy, but no laser show. Is this a comedown? Thank God. Thank God.

Blackness is becoming dark blue in places. Mountains are silhouetted against it. Stars become faint against the changing colour of the sky.

I’m lying on the steps. Hard edges poke my back and behind my calves. Have I been sleeping? I sit up and the world skews for a moment, then levels out.

‘Come on down. It’s beautiful down here.’

I look to the voice. Just two stick people huddled together by the lake, sitting on the ground. I stand and walk down to them. My feet are light, my chest is relaxed. I feel the need for company.

‘Come sit here.’ Julie pats the ground beside her. She is wrapped in a blanket she shares with Marty. It’s draped over their shoulders.

I sit and she pulls the blanket, taking some off Marty, and throws it over my shoulders. Her arm goes around my waist. I lean into her and put my arm around her. Marty’s arm is already there but he doesn’t move his and I don’t move mine.

‘You better now?’ asks Marty.

‘Yes. Much. Sorry about that.’

‘No worries. Been there myself.’

‘Where’s Kim?’ I ask.

‘He suddenly faded. I think he went to bed.’

‘How long was I up there?’

‘Don’t know. Doesn’t matter,’ says Julie. Her head rests on Marty’s shoulder. ‘Let’s just watch this sunrise.’

We do. The dark blue becomes lighter. The black of the mountains becomes another shade of blue. The lake yet another. Everything is shades of blue. No other colour exists.

‘Would you just fucking look at that?’ Marty smiles at the view. A silent view undergoing a slow slow change. ‘Beautiful.’

The mountains surround us. As they awake they grow bigger and bolder, showing their strength. The stars are fading to nothing. The blues keep changing. Cobalt, indigo, azure. The sun is still buried under the rock somewhere, slowly nearing the surface as all the other hues of its spectrum have yet to filter through this coming morning.

Marty is up and walks to the edge of the lake. Julie adjusts the blanket so I have more of it. The weight of her head is comfort on my shoulder. I tighten my grip on her waist. Tingling warmth spreads over my body, from my stomach down to my groin to a stretchy feeling in my toes and up through my chest and along my shoulders. It passes to Julie and the same passes from her to me. It’s not sexual, or maybe it is, or is it just friendship, or is it some psychic knowing and enjoyment of this moment together?

‘Fucking just look at that.’ Marty is on the end of the diving board, standing over the dark blue of the lake, holding both hands up to the mountains, the sky, the power of the world. ‘Isn’t it the most beautiful fucking thing you ever saw?’

‘Yes, Marty, beautiful.’ Julie speaks from my shoulder and sighs. Her hand is on my knee. I look at her face and her eyebrows are still. Her hand is calm on my leg.

‘Is this what a comedown always feels like?’ My head rests on hers. I can smell apples.

‘This is a good one. This is a good sunrise and an amazing place. And you two are pretty fucking great too.’ She squeezes my knee. ‘I feel so close to you two right now.’

‘Would you just look at this view? Come on. Join me out here. It’s even better.’ He has become all the shades of the morning. He has become part of this day. Standing on the board suspended between an ancient lake and an even more ancient sky and in front of hunks of beauty hewed by the violence of countless millennia ago.

I get up. I want to be a part of this. I pull Julie by her hand and we shimmy along the diving board. It’s only just wider than the length of my feet but we all manage to huddle at the end, gently bouncing above the stillness of the water. The world is silent in expectation of the coming morning. We hold onto each other for support, arms around each other, Julie’s head between mine and Marty’s chests. He smiles at me, wide and happy and blissful. I smile back.

‘Just look at it,’ he says, ‘just fucking look at it.’

I do. And I look and I look and I look, until finally most of the blues have gone, and the lake has become the lake, the mountains green mountains, and the sun has clambered up to a place just above the peaks to tell us tiredness must win, and comedowns must end.

I’m the first to break away.

‘Don’t go. It’s still beautiful.’

Julie falls into the space I took. It reminds me of sliding into the warm part of the bed when Laura’s just got out. Both of Marty’s arms are around Julie and hers are around him.

‘It is still beautiful. And it was great and the best and worst night almost of my life. But you two enjoy now. I’m off to sleep.’ I walk up the steps towards my room.

‘Good night,’ mutters a sleepy Julie.

‘Good morning. Selamat pagiiii,’ I say. As I get to the top of the slope next to the door to my room I look back and watch as they walk together, wrapped in the blanket, towards Julie’s room.

Right choice. I think. I’m happy to climb into bed alone, be calm and warm and tingling by myself.

The photos are tumbling again. I catch one and turn it round in my hand. It is blank. I drop it and catch another. Blank. Another. Blank. Why am I catching them? What do I want them for? I can’t remember, but I must see something. There is something I must remember. What is it? I reach out with both hands. The air is filled with them; a blizzard of photos. I grab two handfuls and look at each one. Nothing.

‘Keep trying.’ A voice from somewhere. Who was it? ‘Keep trying.’ I put a hand to my mouth. My lips move. ‘Keep trying.’

More. I grasp more. Paper scrunched in my fists. Blank empty paper. It shouldn’t be blank. What should I be seeing? One is falling from high up. Twisting and twirling amongst a thousand other spinning, empty photos. But this one has something on it. What is it? I jump to try to catch it, but it’s just out of my reach. It spins. Is it a face? A face? But it spins too fast. I must get it. A face appearing so quickly then disappearing on the turn. I jump. I have it. I turn it around in my hand. It’s a mash of melting colours, running off the paper and over my fingers, leaving the glossy paper blank. Blank. Just blank. Too late.