I didn’t sleep well that night. Ronnie hadn’t replied to my last message. Had I gone a step too far, scared her off? I’d only met her ten days ago. I waited until six the following morning before I wrote another message, though I’d been composing it in my head all night.
Hope you didn’t take that the wrong way. I’ve enjoyed our conversations. That’s all I meant.
I stared at that for a moment, then deleted it. That wasn’t all I’d meant. I was contemplating a revamped version when, at last, a message came through.
Ronnie: Hey I can get myself to uni from now on. Thanks for all the lifts.
It’s no hassle. Seriously. Now was the time to say, I’m sorry about my message last night. It came out the wrong way.
And yet, I couldn’t.
Back off, I told myself. Just … back off. I stomped down the hallway to the bathroom. It was occupied, as usual. Fuck. I retreated into my bedroom again, picked up my phone.
Ashleigh: Want to drop by so we can walk to uni together?
I agreed but felt my mood plummet. When I heard a door open, I darted down the hallway and locked myself in the bathroom. I rubbed steam off the mirror and touched my lip. The cut had healed over, as if it had never been there.
As soon as I saw Ashleigh, I felt guilty. I found her in her room, listening to Lizzo while she put the finishing touches on her eye make-up. She was wearing her hair up, the way I liked it, and she’d put in the love-heart earrings I’d given her for her eighteenth birthday.
‘You look tired,’ Ashleigh said. ‘Were you studying late?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got a test today.’ I sank onto her bed. ‘Neuroanatomy.’ Ronnie’s door was closed when I’d passed her bedroom. I wondered if she’d left for uni yet. I wondered if she was wearing her hair up again.
Back off, back off.
‘… tonight?’
I blinked at Ashleigh. ‘Huh?’
‘I said: do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m cooking.’
‘I’ve got judo.’
‘So, come over when you’ve finished. I’ll save you some.’ Ashleigh perched next to me and kissed me on the cheek. ‘You can even study in my room if you like.’
‘Like I’ll get any study done with you here.’ I touched one of the earrings. ‘OK. But I warn you, I’ll stink.’
‘I’ll shower you,’ she said, sliding her hand down my belly. Of course, my body was reacting in the usual way. What was I thinking, trying to ruin everything by meeting up with Ronnie behind Ashleigh’s back?
Still, I thought, as I kissed my girlfriend, it’s not as if I’ve done anything wrong.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Done.’
‘Great.’ She took her phone off its charger. ‘Hey, I got this weird message last night. What do you reckon?’
It was a Facebook message from someone called Avenger, with a profile photo that looked a lot like Carol Danvers, the hot chick from the latest Marvel movie. The message read: Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?
I shrugged. ‘It’s obviously spam. Probably some fat middle-aged guy wanting to be your sugar daddy.’
Ashleigh curled her upper lip. ‘Whatever. Can you delete it?’ She sprang up. ‘By the way, Mum and Dad are coming through on their way to Queenstown this weekend. They want to take us out for dinner on Saturday night. Is that cool?’
‘Of course.’ I followed her downstairs, sneaking a peek into Ronnie’s room as we went past. The door was open and Ronnie was sitting on her bed, frowning at her phone. She glanced up, her eyes flickering, then looked down again.
‘Hey guys.’ Nisha caught up to us soon after we’d left the house, a cigarette dangling between her fingers. ‘Is it OK if I walk with you lovebirds?’
‘Of course.’ Ashleigh threaded her fingers through mine. ‘Sorry, didn’t realise you were up.’
Nisha took a lighter out of her bag. ‘Well, I didn’t want to be but here I am. Van texted me at six this morning. How inconsiderate is that?’
‘Oh baby, I want you now,’ Ashleigh warbled.
‘Piss off.’
I laughed. ‘Oh, so it was a booty call.’ I wasn’t used to seeing Nisha embarrassed. As for Van, I’d only met him a couple of times, but he’d seemed like a shifty bugger. ‘Is it true he’s the drug lord of Dunedin?’
‘Oh please. That’s just a stupid rumour.’ Nisha blew smoke out of the side of her mouth.
Ashleigh frowned at her flatmate. ‘Can you blow that downwind next time? Van had better not bring any of that shit into our flat.’
Nisha flicked ash into the gutter. ‘Chill, will you? I said he woke me up with a text — which was just a hey, how you going, I might add — and all of a sudden he’s cooking meth in your bedroom.’
‘That sounds lucrative,’ I said. Ashleigh punched me on the arm.
Nisha smirked at me. ‘Jeez, she really likes beating you up, doesn’t she?’
‘He only has a black belt in judo,’ Ashleigh said. ‘I think he knows how to stick up for himself, don’t you, Xan?’
Irritation needling me, I said: ‘Tell you what, Van can cook meth in my bedroom. I’ll only charge a grand a week, how’s that?’
‘Done,’ Nisha said, and we fist-bumped.
Ashleigh sniffed. ‘I’ll stick to alcohol, thanks.’
‘Because it’s so harmless. Oh, there’s Tilly.’ Nisha waved at a girl across the road. ‘I’ll catch you guys later.’
‘Is Van really a drug dealer?’ Ashleigh asked.
‘He’s all talk,’ I said. ‘Probably selling some homegrown cannabis or something. Don’t worry. It won’t last long between him and Nisha. She’s way too smart for him.’
‘I feel sorry for her,’ Ashleigh said. ‘Ever since she and Jase broke up …’
‘I got the impression she quite liked being single.’ I couldn’t even remember what that was like. Imagine being able to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
‘Well, I’d hate it. I’m glad I don’t have to worry. Means I can focus on my career and, you know, pleasing my dad.’
‘I don’t think he’s that hard to please, is he?’
‘Not as long as I keep getting straight As.’ She took my hand. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yeah, why do you ask?’
‘You seem kind of distracted lately.’
‘It’s called information overload. Biochem’s doing my head in.’
She gave me a steady look. ‘OK. It’s just, sometimes I feel like you’re ignoring me.’
‘I’m not ignoring you.’ My irritation was replaced by the squirming in my gut that came before she lashed out at me, either verbally or physically. ‘I’m sorry. Med school’s kind of stressful sometimes.’
Ashleigh arched an eyebrow at me. ‘You think law’s a walk in the park?’
‘No, but maybe you’re better at handling it than me.’ This was obviously the right answer because her face relaxed into a smile.
‘So, we’re OK?’ We stopped on the corner, ready to part ways.
‘We’re great,’ I said, and kissed her. Students flowed around us, laughing and chattering and calling out to one other. And in that moment, I saw our whole future in front of us, and it was bright and shiny and winding around me so tightly I could hardly breathe. ‘See you tonight.’ I ran over the road as the crossing sign counted down, almost bumping into a student with a ponytail, who was gazing intently at Ashleigh. He looked a bit like the Blake Williams guy, though I’d only seen him at a distance when visiting Ashleigh’s hostel. When I turned around, he’d disappeared into the crowd.
That evening, my judo partner counted in Japanese as I turned in for my favourite throw, seoi-nage. Holding the lapel and opposite sleeve of his gi, I twisted, bringing him up onto my back before setting him down on his feet again; one, two, three, four. Our sparring had acquired a more competitive edge since Ashleigh had visited the dojo last year, and Josh, not realising Ash and I were together, had said he wouldn’t mind having a piece of her.
‘Ichi, ni, san, shi,’ Josh grunted. The whack of my back against his chest was satisfying. Even more satisfying was completing the throw as he got to jyuu, or ten, when I wheeled him over my shoulder and he hit the mat with a slap. Josh jumped to his feet, and we started over, our roles reversed. Nothing like putting your brain into automatic mode to stop it going around in circles.
‘Jyuu.’ I flew over Josh’s shoulder, slapping the mat with my arm when I landed to break my fall. Instead of springing up, I stayed where I was.
My partner peered down at me. ‘You right, mate?’
‘Yep,’ I said, and scissored my legs around his, dropping him.
‘Bastard,’ he gasped, and we wrestled for a few minutes, until he got me in a hold I couldn’t escape.
Ashleigh was serving dinner when I arrived at her flat. The table was set for seven. Van had apparently arrived last night and never left.
‘I don’t mind him being here with Nisha,’ she muttered, as I helped her share the spaghetti between the plates, ‘but I don’t think he should get to stay here while we’re all out at lectures.’
‘Tell her, then,’ I said, so Ashleigh did — in front of everyone else, while we were eating.
‘Settle down, I’m not going to steal your handbag,’ Van said. His dreadlocks were tied back with a piece of string, and he smelled musty, as though his jeans and T-shirt hadn’t been washed in weeks. ‘Mightn’t be able to resist dressing up in your clothes, though.’ He batted his eyelashes at her.
‘Go near my room and you’re dead,’ Ashleigh said sweetly, before asking Ronnie to pass the parmesan.
Ronnie handed over the bowl, avoiding my gaze as she’d been doing ever since I arrived.
Nisha said, ‘Relax, he just slept all day — right, Dec?’
‘Right.’ Van looped spaghetti onto his fork. ‘It was nice and quiet. And at least you guys have toilet paper. Three-ply, even.’
Ashleigh rolled her eyes at me. I pretended I hadn’t seen her. It was getting hard to know where to look, with all the undercurrents going on.
Harrison sighed, then got up and went into the kitchen, returning with a butter knife.
‘What’s that for?’ Ashleigh asked.
He thudded into his chair. ‘You forgot to include knives when you set the table.’
‘You don’t use knives for pasta. You’re meant to use your spoon to twirl it, see?’ She demonstrated.
‘If you’re Italian maybe.’ Harrison started cutting his spaghetti into pieces. ‘Which we’re not.’
Skye raised her eyebrows. Ashleigh smiled the way she always did when she was about to shoot someone down.
‘Just trying to educate you for when you take your girlfriend out to a fancy restaurant,’ she said. ‘Or boyfriend, whichever the case may be.’
Harrison stared at her, a blob of pasta sauce quivering at the side of his mouth. ‘I’m not a fag.’
Van let out a hooting laugh. ‘I’m not a fag,’ he said in a high-pitched voice, and got up to sashay around the room.
‘Piss off,’ Harrison snarled, grabbing his plate and cutlery before storming out of the room and up the stairs.
‘Whoa, spot the homophobe,’ Ashleigh said.
‘You were winding him up.’ Ronnie was sitting at the end of the table, her injured leg propped up on an upturned crate.
Ashleigh tilted her head to one side. ‘Got a sweet spot for Harry, have you?’ She elbowed Skye. ‘Don’t come a-knockin’ if the bed’s a-rockin’ on level two.’
Skye spluttered and put her hands over her eyes. ‘Ugh, images, gross.’
‘I’m sure she’s got better taste than that,’ Nisha said.
Ronnie didn’t say anything, merely wolfed down the rest of her food before saying she had study to do and retreating to her room. The rest of us sat down to watch some TV, which inevitably ended up with Skye switching to one of her true-life crime programmes, so Ashleigh and I went to bed.
‘I was just having Harrison on,’ she said, once I’d turned out the light. ‘If he can’t take a joke, then how’s he going to handle the army? Hey, maybe he’s denying his inner gay person. What do you reckon?’
‘Maybe.’ I was too tired to bother getting into an argument I knew I wouldn’t win. If Ashleigh wasn’t careful, she’d be looking for a new flatmate sooner rather than later. Either that, or he’d get his own back.
Ashleigh fell asleep, but my brain kept going around in circles, anxiety about what Ronnie thought of me alternating with planning a lesson for the following evening’s judo class. Some of the kids were ready to grade up to the next belt, and I needed to take them through their kata.
At quarter to twelve, I gave up, pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. Then I sat in front of the open ranchslider, my legs poking out into the gravel. The stars were out, a three-quarter moon slicing into the sky. The cool air raised goosebumps on my arms. I cradled my tea, inhaling the steam, then jumped when the light came on.
‘Shit.’ I rubbed spilt tea into the carpet.
‘Sorry. I didn’t see you there.’ Ronnie was standing in the dining area, holding a glass in one hand and a crutch in the other.
‘S’OK.’
‘Do you want me to turn the light off?’
‘I don’t mind. Couldn’t sleep either, huh?’
‘No.’
‘It’s pretty out,’ I said. ‘The stars, I mean.’
‘So that’s why the light was off.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I hesitated. ‘Want me to make you a cup of tea?’
‘Well, I — sure. Milk, no sugar.’ She set the glass down on the table and limped over to sink into the armchair I’d pulled up to the ranch-slider. I shut the door between the kitchen and the entranceway, boiled the kettle again.
‘Do you often get insomnia?’ Ronnie asked.
‘Me? Not so much. You?’ I stole a glance at her. Her pyjama bottoms were short enough for me to see the pale flesh of her inner thigh.
‘All the time,’ she said. ‘I kind of sleep in chunks. An hour here, two hours there.’
I took her tea over. ‘How long has that been going on? Since your brother died?’
She nodded. ‘More or less.’
‘Do you have nightmares?’
‘Sometimes.’ She sighed. ‘But mostly it’s just, I don’t know, I can’t seem to get into a deep sleep anymore.’
‘That must suck.’
‘I guess I’m kind of used to it.’ She sipped her tea. ‘Having a leg in plaster doesn’t help. I wake up every time I turn over.’
‘I’m sure.’
Ronnie looked amazing, her lips moist from the tea, her eyelashes fluttering against the grey smudges beneath her eyes. Ashleigh was attractive, beautiful even, but Ronnie was different, unusual, strangely beautiful.
‘The sky is pretty.’ She set the cup beside her chair. ‘Like staring into infinity.’
‘Yes,’ I said, but I was still looking at her. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes.
‘I meant it about you being a catalyst,’ I murmured, and her eyes flew open.
‘For what?’ Her breathing was rapid, her voice low.
‘A change.’ I sat on the arm of her chair and stroked the silver river in her hair. ‘Do you ever feel like your life is standing still?’
She swallowed. ‘All the time.’
I dropped my hand. ‘Sorry.’
Ronnie looked away. ‘You shouldn’t let her push you around like that.’
‘Who?’
‘Who do you think?’ Her eyes were on mine again, her expression hidden in the shadows. ‘Has she hit you before?’
‘What do you think?’ I said, and she touched my wrist.
‘Why are you with her?’
I swallowed. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘It always is, isn’t it?’
Anxiety flickered in my gut. ‘I don’t want to talk about her.’
‘What do you want to talk about then?’
‘This,’ I said and pressed my lips against hers. I waited for her to shove me away, but she didn’t. I pushed my tongue between her lips, tasted the velvety inside of her mouth. She made a sound in the back of her throat, touched her hand to my belly.
There was a thud from above. We sprang apart.
‘Harrison,’ I whispered. His bedroom was directly overhead.
‘Maybe.’ Ronnie was trembling.
‘Sorry,’ I said again.
‘I should go to bed.’
‘OK.’ I let her go, returned to staring into the night. ‘Fuck,’ I whispered and lay down, my hands over my eyes.
One slip-up. That’s all it was.
But of course, that’s not how addiction works.