I Unlove You (40 page)

Over the past few weeks I
’
ve tried to read it
eight times, but I
’
m yet to pass the
third page. The words crumble before me, slipping down the paper
into a pile of vowels and consonants. I stare at them, bundled up
like the leaves Joey,
B
, and me would create in my back garden before
scattering them across the grass with a heavy heave and a kick. I
silence the words with a firm close of the book.
Snap.

Perks of Being a Wallflower sits beside The Great Gatsby on
my nightstand. So does To Kill a Mockingbird. The Watchmen lies
patiently in my bag, and the complete Sandman series hides in this
desk
’
s drawer. Touching the handle, I sigh and close my
eyes. Books and novels I love and adore, but I cannot face them. If
I cannot face these, what can I face? If I don
’
t have
books, what do I have?

“
You okay, Aus?
”
asks a familiar voice
from behind my shoulder.
“
You look
upset,
”
Jessie continues with a hushed tone.
“
Would you like a glass
of water?
”

I
swivel in my seat and look at her, her blue eyes darting from one
area of my desk to another. Glancing at everything but me, she
smiles.
“
Excuse me?
”
I say.

“
A glass of water? Would you
like one?
”

“
No, Jessie. Thank you.
”

“
Okay. But are you sure
you
’
re alright? You look a little
—”

“
I
’
m
fine,
”
I sigh, swivelling back to face my blank computer
monitor.

“
Okay.
”
Stepping closer, she places her
bright red fingernails next to one of the discarded cans of Red
Bull.
“
Tony would like to see you, in his
office.
”

“
Okay,
”
I say, awakening my screen with a
tap of the keyboard.

“
In a few minutes. Is that
okay?
”

I nod.

“
Aus?
”

“
Yeah?
”
I sigh again.

“
Are you sure
you
’
re okay?
”

“
I
’
m fine, Jessie.
I
’
ll finish this up and head straight to
Tony.
”
Looking at her, I force a smile.

“
Okay. Thank you.
”
She showcases her
flawless white teeth with the same smile she welcomes visitors in
reception.
“
If you need anything, let me know.
”

“
I will. Thank
you.
”

Twisting on the spot, she flicks
her curly, blonde hair, struts down the hallway and rounds the
corner.

I
haven
’
t seen Tony in weeks, but it
’
s no
surprise he wants to speak to me. When this nightmare first
happened, coming into this godforsaken office offered a relief of
sorts. Keeping me busy and occupied, each day passed without too
much torture. A distraction is all, and like all distractions, I
grew bored of it. Distractions don
’
t fix anything,
merely delay the inevitable.

As
the days get shorter for everyone else, they slow to an unbearable
standstill for me. No longer a distraction, but a place I slump
into and rot. Looking back, I can
’
t fathom how I kept
turning up. Staying late most days, and arriving early, I
didn
’
t call in sick or share my pain.

I
showed up like a good little worker and distracted myself with this
nonsensical daily grind. You can only run for so long. I called in
sick twice last week, and I
’
m tempted to do so
each morning as I lay on Joey
’
s couch and stare at
the ceiling. I don
’
t wish to sit at
this desk for hours on end, but I don
’
t wish to pass the
time anywhere else. I just want to escape, although escape
what?

And
now I have, for the first time ever, the actual freedom to escape
this life and town, and reinvent anew if I choose, but am I ready?
Is it what I want? At least here I have some semblance of
structure, but out there wandering the lands
…
what is there to do
except think and sink?

“
Let
’
s get this over
with,
”
I
mumble.

Walking down the hallway and edging closer to my
boss
’
office, my chest doesn
’
t beat and my
shoulders aren
’
t tense. Such an
invitation doesn
’
t tend to end well.
Like trips to the school office, bad times often await; but unlike
then, when my chest did beat a frantic thump, I now walk with
ease.

Maybe
Tony
’
s curious about my tardiness.

Maybe people have complained about
my appearance, or the fact I do less each day.

Maybe they smell whisky on my
breath, because if I can taste it, they can surely smell
it.

“
We
’
ll be fine,
brother,
”
Joey once said, venturing to the school office during our
third year at high school. My stomach numb, every possible scenario
ran through my mind.
“
I
’
ve got us covered,
”
he continued.
“
Just leave
the talking to me.
”

“
Yeah, we
’
ll be
fine, right?
”
I
said.
“
They don
’
t know anything,
right? We
’
ll be okay. They can
’
t prove we
skipped school, right?
”

“
I
’
ve got
this,
”
he said, his smirk and sparkling blues on full
show.

So
confident and sure of himself, despite knowing nothing about what
stood on the other side of the door. I know nothing about what
stands on the other side of Tony
’
s door, but I
don
’
t feel confident or sure of myself, nor do I panic and
shake like I did back then. I feel nothing but the pain of
indifference itself.

“
Hi, Tony,
”
I say, knocking on the door and
slipping inside.
“
Jessie said you wanted to see me.
”

“
Hi, Aus. Take a
seat.
”

I head towards the same chair I
had my interview in. It seems so long ago. So much has happened in
the last year. So little of it good.

A
waist-high white bookcase lines one wall, full of colourful, glossy
textbooks, magazines, and brochures. I remember eyeing it the last
time I was here, hoping to spot a novel we
’
d both read so
I could impress him and ease my crumbling nerves.

Matching the shelves, Tony
’
s shiny white desk
glistens in the harsh white light. The white coffee table and
white-rimmed photo frames complete this minimalistic hell-hole,
more reminiscent to an Ikea display area than an actual room a
human being spends time in each day. My eyes ache from the
overbearing light, each surface gleaming.

“
How are you?
”
Tony asks, leaning in
his leather chair, the one black item in the entire
room.

“
I
’
m fine, thank
you.
”

“
Keeping
busy?
”

I
nod, in his spotlight once again and a prisoner in his domain. King
of his castle, he smiles in the knowledge he
’
s in
control, because the moment I first entered this room and sat
nervous before him
…
pleading with him to give me a
job
…
is the moment I gave up any control I
had.

Joey and I grew up saying the same things, but he decided
not to settle, whereas I did. We dreamed and mused and desired so
much, but I gave it up before I had chance to touch it. I
didn
’
t try, I settled. I didn
’
t fail, because I
didn
’
t even raise my hand.

I
gave into fear and it all began here
…
with
Tony
…
in this fucking office.

“
We
’
ve not had a chance
to talk much of late, have we?
”
he says, as adrenaline bubbles
beneath my chest.

“
I guess not,
”
I say, staring at his
white lamp aglow with awful light.

“
I apologise for that.
You
’
re still new, and fresh from university.
I
’
m sure things aren
’
t quite as you
expected.
”

You
’
re quite correct, Tony, this
isn
’
t what I expected of myself. Is this life? Is life
turning up to a desk each morning and waiting for the day to end?
Is life not earning enough, but giving far too much? Is life having
the one person you cannot live without, leave? Is this what I
signed up for? Is this life, to give up before I give it chance to
begin?

“
I
’
m not sure what you
mean,
”
I say, digging my nails into my thigh.

“
Well, this is your first real
job, yes?
”

I nod, heaving in a deep
breath.

“
I remember what
it
’
s like. A long time ago for me, of
course,
”
he says, laughing at his own stupid joke.
“
We all
want a challenge, and sometimes we don
’
t feel like
we
’
re challenged enough. Or
appreciated.
”

I nod again, because I have no
words.

“
I appreciate some of your tasks
and projects can become a little
…
stale after a while.
But you have an opportunity to progress here, and
I
’
d hate to see you waste it. You
’
re a good
worker, or should I say, you can be a good
worker.
”

“
Have I done something wrong,
Tony?
”
I ask, stern and short, the words escaping me before I have
chance to push them back in.

B
and I fell in love amidst a sea of
dreams. We could be anyone, go anywhere, and do anything. I allowed
myself to dream just enough to think it possible, but never enough
to assume it could be real. Joey let them in, but what have I
done?

Maybe this is why she left. Maybe she signed up for a
different version of me, one that dared to be somebody, but as time
ticked I let it slip through my fingers; maybe she crept through
too. Maybe I
’
m the reason she
turned to a life I cannot fathom, because maybe the boy she fell in
love with disappeared.

I
thought she needed a life of stability, a man who could provide. A
husband and father with a job and wage, because this is what we do.
We wake up. We come to work. We rinse and repeat, and ensure
we
’
re good little workers.