Then I awoke.

Katya’s name repeated itself in my ears like the incessant buzzing of an alarm clock. How I’d managed to fall asleep in the midst of such misery, I didn’t know. I was thankful, however. Glad to let unconscious hours take me further from the memory. With my eyes still adjusting to the waking world, I couldn’t quite make out the time from the clock on my bedside drawer. Regardless, I knew that Novel class couldn’t be too far off and that I had to get ready.

Mindless minutes elapsed and whisked me away to RMIT. I hoped intensely that there would be no accidental run-ins with Katya. I had no idea what would happen if I saw her and I didn’t want to entertain the scenario. Of course, it played itself out in my mind many times, echoing with the footsteps that carried me closer to the classroom. It was then that I decided conclusively that I hated my life. It wasn’t as if I had things worse off than the rest of the world. I knew that my pain meant nothing compared to that of the starving children in Ethiopia or the war ravaged people of Afghanistan. But they were galaxies away from my reality. My life-loathing stemmed from the irrepressible nature of my masochistic mind. It never left me alone. I felt like a prisoner held captive in his own head. I wasn’t threatened by bombing raids or starvation, but to me, my thoughts were every bit as dangerous. And though I’d always been like this, Bianca and my mother’s departures had been the catalyst for it to reach new levels. As I neared the classroom, I wondered how much longer I could handle it.

I found a free seat in class and eyed downward, shoe gazing. The other inhabitants of the room were people who meant as much to me as I meant to the world. There were a few regulars, a few part-timers and some new faces. Too self absorbed to bother with any of them, as usual, I just kept to myself, thankful that Sammi wasn’t around to insinuate her presence on me.

Sammi. The name triggered a domino effect in my brain that led straight to Katya. What if Sammi knows? I wondered. I pictured her face, ugly with disapproval, her eyes scalding like an iron pressed against skin. She liked to feel superior and if she was aware of the situation with her friend she’d go through a mental growth spurt that would leave her towering over me. My perception wouldn’t change, but hers would and I knew it would drive me crazy. You can’t control another person’s reality but they can change yours. I was a living testament to that theory.

The air seemed to tighten when she entered the room, a scarf around her neck and her hair hanging freely. Her eyes didn’t meet mine as she sat down on the opposite side of the class. Whether this was a deliberate act or she hadn’t seen me, I couldn’t tell. I stared at her, waiting for a look, for anything, but she only faced Hornby. She is avoiding me, I thought and then felt a twinge of depression. I found it hard to decipher why Sammi disliking me would cause further sadness. It wasn’t her that mattered, it was Katya. Regardless, Sammi’s actions fueled my already aching temperament.

Hornby’s lesson went like a stream in a deserted forest, completely unnoticed. The day I was having, writing was the furthest thing from my mind. My thoughts jumped from Sammi to Katya to Sammi again, their roles in my life apparently over. I agonized over their loss, just as I had done for that of Bianca and my mother. Is there something about me that pushes everybody else away? I pondered. Am I going to live the rest of my life completely alone? I was locked inside my head again.

When the class ended I got up and went to leave hastily. I needed to get out of there. I had to get home, or see Damo and smoke a joint. I had to do something to calm me down.

“Owen,” Hornby’s voice beckoned. I turned miserably as he approached. It was just us two in the room now and his face was serious. I abhorred the words as they left his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” I knew exactly what he meant.

“Owen, it’s my job to help you as much as I can, but there’s nothing I can do if you won’t listen or participate. There’s no use showing up if you’re just going to sit there and ignore me. It’s a waste of my time and yours. So, I’ve got an assignment for you.” The last sentence dragged me down. I hate assignments. “Next week, I want you to bring me a piece of writing on why it is that you aren’t contributing and what you think I can do to change that. It can be anything. I just want to get you thinking about this, because it’s important, Owen.” I just wanted to leave.

“Okay, you can go.” He finished and I was out of there in a second, out into the poison light of day. This project had pushed me from self-loathing to world-loathing. There was no joy in existence at that moment, only pain and anger. I couldn’t imagine a way for my mood to become worse, and then I felt a tap on my shoulder. It came from Sammi.

Her ire was obvious and this was the last thing I needed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She launched, right on the offensive, shoving me as she spoke. Stunned and unable to conjure a response, I was silent as she continued. “Katya is miserable because of what you did.” I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t exactly Mr. Happy today either but my words were hermits, refusing to be noticed. “I told her that you were a nice guy. I put in a good word for you and you go and desert her at a party full of strangers? What kind of arsehole are you?”

This was too much. I couldn’t handle any more of the pressure, the confrontations, and the sadness. I was broken. My lips quivered and I fought tears.

“I didn’t mean to…” I said, but was unable to conclude the sentence.

“You didn’t mean to? Is that it? Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? When you called her yesterday, were you just going to say ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to’? Did you think that would cut it? God! I’m glad I hung up.”

Her words stopped me dead. She hung up? A volcano of fury erupted in my head and searing hot lava raced out of me in the form of words.

“That was you that answered? You hung up on me? What the fuck did you do that for?” Now I was on the offensive. “Do you know the hell I’ve been going through because I thought it was her? I felt like fucking killing myself, Sammi!” I was fuming. She looked unprepared for such outrage.

“She was crying. She didn’t want to speak to you.”

“So you just hang up and don’t even give me the chance to explain? You decide whether Katya and I make up because you’re her best friend and can stick your nose into everything? You’re Katya’s best friend, Sammi, not mine, and I don’t owe you any fucking explanations because frankly, it’s none of your business!” I felt so relieved, basking in my tirade. I’d never spoken to anyone like this before despite often wanting to. This was every imaginary argument I’d ever won. This was better than any joint.

It was Sammi’s turn to be on the brink of tears. I suspected that she’d never been the victim of such an outburst and that she had no idea how to cope. It was her who was now in the wrong. Taking cues from the way I’d pictured such an occurrence in my head, I turned to leave without giving her a chance to respond. She’d soak in my words until she saw me again and they would hopefully eat away at her just like her hanging up had eaten away at me. I was nearly twenty metres gone when I felt another tap on my shoulder.

“Are you serious that you have good reasons for what you did?” Sammi asked. I sighed.

“They may not be good, but they’re mine, and I think that at the very least I deserve a chance to tell Katya what happened. If she doesn’t accept my apology, it’s her choice.” This was going like a dream. “Not yours.” I added spitefully.

“Do you have her address?”

“No.” I replied and Sammi began rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a pen and piece of paper. She wrote hurriedly before passing me the small sheet.

28 Barker Street, Carlton.

“She’ll be there all day. She couldn’t bring herself to come to TAFE.” Sammi said.

I gazed over the address and then looked to Sammi, grateful yet remaining angry. I don’t want to hurt her too much, I thought.

“Thank you.” I obliged my mercy before turning and walking away. I read the address once more and decided I had to go there.

The house wasn’t what I’d expected. It was small and old, its tiny front garden grown out and scrappy. The tired bricks that made up the place were cracked and boring. I wanted Katya to live somewhere astounding.

When I got to the door, the nervousness from the preceding day’s phone call returned. I went over the exact same thoughts, wondering if she’d accept my apology, if I could make things good. I was trying to silence the thoughts and gain some composure before I knocked but it was useless. My brain wouldn’t stop thinking. That was, until I heard the yelling from inside.

“I told you I didn’t want it!” Katya’s voice was loud and nearly hysterical. I had no idea what to do, so I just stood there.

“That car cost me $50, 000 and you lost it?” A man replied, enraged.

“I didn’t lose it!”

“Then what the hell happened?” The man’s voice was steadily rising and sounding dangerous. I momentarily considered bursting in and interrupting but there was no way that was going to happen.

“It’s none of your fucking business! Get out of my house!” She choked out painfully. It hurt like hell to hear her like this.

“I’m your father and I paid for this house and I demand to know what happened to that car!”

Her father. Hate instantly consumed me. Hearing of the agony he’d caused her earlier had made me sick and now he was doing it again. I couldn’t understand how he could bear to treat her like that. The guilt I’d been feeling suddenly transferred to anger and directed itself at him. I pressed an ear against the door and listened more intently.

“Get out of my fucking house! GET OUT!” A tearful and excruciating scream preceded the sound of something smashing. They were nearing my position. I ran promptly to the side of the house and hid as well as I could. Within seconds the front door opened and Katya’s father, wearing a suit and tie and looking as polished as his shiny black shoes came storming out, leaving the scene in a hurry. I watched as he vacated and then, without regard for the worries that had littered my mind just seconds ago, I entered the house. I had to make sure she was okay.

I turned left into an awesome room. Paintings were everywhere, taking nearly all of the space on the walls. Images of clouds and spiraling colours and magical sceneries surrounded one of the most painful sights I’d ever bore witness to. On her knees, bawling uncontrollably was Katya. I said her name softly to let her know I was there. I wished the past two days had never happened so I could comfort her without concern for whether it was welcome or not. Beside Katya was a broken angel figurine; obviously the smash I’d heard. Slowly, her head rose and recognized me. She stared somberly for a moment as I feared her reaction, and then she was up and at me. Her arms closed around me tighter than ever and her tears flowed. My presence was welcome, and though I felt terrible for Katya, I felt incredibly elated for myself.