Thursday 28 July
At the pool this morning before orchestra, I call Ben. We’re on speakerphone, our voices echoing around my secret well, and I’m listing for him all the pros of going to Orion tomorrow night. The only con is getting caught.
‘The signs all week have been telling me to take a chance.’
‘You believe in computer code, not signs.’
‘I’m changing in ways I cannot explain or entirely understand,’ I say, peeling back the wrapper on my breakfast bar and licking at the honey that’s trapped on it.
‘Tell me the signs then,’ he says, and I go through them.
‘There are five so far. One: in Wellness class this week, everyone seemed to be showing something that meant nothing. No one was giving anything real away. It felt pointless.
‘Sign two: I was working in the computer room at lunch on Tuesday, running some tests for Ms Zahir, when she said I was wasted in science and I should really work in IT. It’s a small sign, but I’m listing all of them.
‘Three: I’ve dreamed about the portal four nights this week. In all but one I’ve escaped and returned undetected.
‘Four: I finally finished a piece yesterday. Wait. I’ll play it for you.’
I balance the cello between my knees, rest the body against my chest, the neck and scroll against the left side of my head. I go through the routine I learnt long ago, conscious of technique. I relax my wrist, drop my fingers into place, and with my foot, hit the pedal that’s connected to the computer to start the backing track.
It’s not an original composition. Last night I recorded myself playing Sonata No. 3 in G Minor for Cello and Harpsichord, the one I performed before the start of orchestra last week.
I looped the recording of myself, over and over, and then mixed in the sounds I captured from the storm. I wove through a recording that I found online – a soft, soft, heartbeat. When I’d finished, there was something missing so I added in Oliver’s question reply – What are you doing? You’re recording the storm.
I don’t close my eyes this time. I play looking at the smooth blue walls, imagining I can see the sound bouncing back at me. I think about my old teacher telling me that she felt like the interpreter for her cello, that it had a voice and she was the one who could set it free. My cello’s voice today is thick and rich. The word ‘cavern’ floats through my mind and drifts out again.
When I stop, the air feels static with song, and I have this thought that years from now I will have left the ghosts of music in the pool. I am becoming a different Kate, and I love it.
‘I’m speechless,’ Ben says. ‘Or I was. I was speechless. That never happens to me.’
‘Is that a good thing, or are you speechless because it’s bad?’
‘It’s good,’ he says.
‘Hey, did you join the chess club?’ I ask.
‘I did, in fact, and it went as expected. I humiliated myself as I can’t play chess.’
‘Did you meet anyone?’
‘Also as expected. I met a lot of people who can play chess. I have decided to put myself into suspended animation until you come home for the long weekend.’
‘I don’t think that’s a great solution.’
‘No, but since your solution was the chess club, and you’ve decided you believe in signs, I’m no longer listening to you.’
‘These are all fair points.’
‘What’s the fifth sign?’ he asks.
‘Oliver,’ I say. ‘Whenever I think about not going to Orion I think about how repressed he is. Every practice last week he tried to teach me something, or he told me I really should take some more classical lessons, or he asked me not to drink my coffee near his cello, and did I know that caffeine is bad for cellos? Every time he says something like that I ask myself: Do I really want to be as anally retentive as Oliver? Do I really want to be as repressed?’ I’m thinking too much about Oliver, which annoys and interests me. But I can tell Ben anything. He doesn’t assume or tease.
I hear a cough and turn around.
‘Hello,’ Oliver says.
‘Is that Oliver?’ Ben asks.
‘It’s Oliver,’ Oliver says.
‘Don’t hang up,’ Ben says, before I hang up.
He’s standing on the side of the pool, staring curiously into the deep end where I’m sitting with my cello and my computer, at the pickup mic, and the cords.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Long enough,’ he says, leaving me wondering what the end of that sentence is. Long enough to hear I think he’s anally retentive? Long enough to know that I’m thinking about him? Long enough to hear me play?
‘I like the acoustics,’ I say, in answer to his unspoken question of why I’m playing in an empty pool. The other day I was on the side of it, so he hasn’t seen me in here before.
‘The leaves don’t deaden the sound?’
‘A bit. I like it.’
He nods and points at the computer. ‘It’s you on the track?’
‘Why are you here?’ I ask.
‘You’re late again. I’ve been waiting. We’re all waiting.’
He turns abruptly and walks towards orchestra. There’s something in the straightness of his back that gives me the solution. I don’t need to look for signs. I might not be repressed like Oliver but I am as determined. Ben’s right. I’m not a signs person. I assess the problem and find the solution. When someone brings me their computer and they’re crying because it’s midnight and they’ve lost their assignment that’s due the next day, I stay calm and go through the problem logically.
I don’t need to take a risk to go to Orion. Risks are not really my thing. I need to find someone who will lie for me so that I can get a pass. I go through all the people I’ve helped with computer problems in the last few weeks, but there have only been boarders, really.
Wellness.
When the thought comes, it’s obvious.
It’s not without danger. Ady Rosenthal is intimidating, to put it mildly. But there’s something about her . . . I think back to class, see her lounging, listening, dreaming at times. I think about her at the Botanic Gardens, telling me to go: The light is green, Kate.
The light is green. The sixth sign, if I want to believe in signs.
I can tell Old Joy that I’m going to Ady’s house after our Wellness catch up. I just need Ady to tell a small lie for me. And Orion is go.
Because we’re here for a good time not a ‘relationship’
1. Hallie Saxby
2. Rachel Dunlop
3. Cat Bongiorno
4. Jess Bishop
5. Olivia Currie
6. Samira Prentice
7. Jodi Bennett
8. Grace Reddy
9. Sophie Christou
10. Tamsin Llewellyn
Ericsonic: Good list here, I can confirm 3, 7 and 8 from personal experience, easy hook ups, no follow up calls required
Catbong: lmao Ericsonic, that was not sex, that was you falling asleep next to me on a sofa drooling. Must have been a great dream.
sufferingsuffragette: More heinous idiocy. It’s possible that none of these girls wants to encounter you more than once. Did that occur to you?
Ericsonic: dumb slut
Feminightmare: I think you really do mean relationship, not ‘relationship’. Dipshit.
Bizjiz: I might work my way through this lot, thanx for deets – anyone got addresses for these sluts?
j0yful0ne2: if anyone publishes addresses here I will report this site to the police
PSST ADMIN: Please forward contact info via DM only
b@rnieboy: yr not 2 happy j0yful0ne2 – did you get left off the list? Or are you on it?
j0yful0ne2: I object to the list regardless of who’s on it
PSST ADMIN: Objection noted, now fuck off
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