Seven Days: The Complete Story (32 page)

And I was
happy. Truly, I was.

I just don’t
think I’m all that content. Because if truth be told, I don’t like
our situation. I can’t give it up; I can’t walk away because I love
them both. But I don’t like it.

I hate how we
have to sneak in after the movie begins so nobody will see us. I
hate that our relationship isn’t normal; that we can’t do regular
things or be spontaneous. I hate that I can’t touch Nicholas when
we’re out in a crowd together and that when Joel surreptitiously
fondles my bottom I can’t playfully smack his hand away like other
girls do with their boyfriends. Every outing we have has to be
planned like we’re members of the secret service and I loathe that
most of all, even though I like to organise.

But then, when
Nicholas smiles at me from the other side of a room or Joel sends
me a funny text and I crack up at a serious moment, I remember why
we’re doing this. The secrecy is worth it to have their love. Both
of their love. And who said love and relationships have to be
conventional?

At eleven, the
car the boys ordered arrives to take me to the ceremony. I’m
wearing the dress I bought for Joel’s birthday but with black
tights and my straightened hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail,
so I look good for my photos. I feel sick to my stomach but I think
it’s a combination of nerves at having to give a speech and the
fact that I’m going to be alone at the ceremony. I, literally, have
no one to support me and that makes me very sad indeed. No Mum, no
Emily and no Nicholas and Joel. I mean it’s not like they can sit
in the family rows and whoop and holler when I’m conferred with me
degree is it? Talk about recipe for social suicide.

The boys
accompany me to the car. They kiss me goodbye and good luck.
Nicholas looks wistful. I can see he’s finding it hard to miss this
milestone but that’s the way it has to be. This decision, made by
all three of us, is the right thing to do, even if it feels like
the worst thing in the world.

“Knock ‘em
dead, Ariel,” Joel says, dabbing at my tear with his finger.

I gaze up into
his eyes, hoping to suck some of that innate positiveness into me.
“I feel so sick. I hope I don’t throw up during my speech.”

“Nerves.”
Nicholas reassures me, before he pecks me softly on the cheek.
“You’re not used to making speeches. This is another one of those
big life moments for our Sadie. I wish we could be there.”

“It’s okay. I
understand.”

“Don’t forget
to look out for the limmo to bring you home after the cocktail
hour.”

“I will.”

“And take a
deep breath and focus on something at the back of the room if you
feel nervous when you get on the podium.”

“What, like
the exit doors?” I joke. I hop into the car and close the door and
as I do I am overwhelmed with sadness on what should be the
happiest day of my life.

*****

An hour later
I’m standing in the line waiting to process into the auditorium.
I’ve straightened my cap and gown and taken deep breaths as
Nicholas suggested, but I feel nauseous and my mouth feels like
someone stuffed it full of Weetbix and forgot to add the milk. I
feel alone, so alone and I can’t help but feel I’ve done something
dreadful to have this situation descend on me. I’m too scared to
leave but I wouldn’t anyway. I want to get the recognition I
deserve for my work. I’m too scared to take a drink from the water
fountain in case it makes want to go to the toilet again — I’ve
already been about a dozen times, I don’t think it’s possible for
any more pee to come out of my body.

God, I am so
freaking nervous.

The music
begins and the line of students starts to traipse down the stairs
and through the audience to the seating area. The Arts and
Architecture degrees are being conferred today too, so there are a
lot of us but, ahead of me, I can see Emily’s blonde head, her
curled hair bobbing as she walks. She must be feeling uber glam
today, being able to wear all black with just the hint of cerise
that marks the colour of her faculty. I can picture her standing in
front of that massive mirror she has in her bedroom, admiring the
new black pumps she’s bought to go with the outfit and sipping a
glass of bubbles from the bottle of
Cristal
we always
promised we’d treat ourselves with at graduation — if we saved
enough. I wonder if she misses me at all? The thought makes me feel
even sadder and more lost.

I focus on her
back, willing her to turn and smile at me but she doesn’t. I try to
send thought waves into her brain that I’m thinking of her and
wishing her well, that I don’t blame her for being angry with me.
Emily always said we were like ‘hashtag soul sisters’ and she could
read my mind but I don’t think she’s getting my messages. Either
that or she’s finally invented that thought blocker thing she was
always on about because from the night she asked me to leave she’s
never spoken to me again. On the few occasions we’ve seen each
other at Uni she’s run so fast in the other direction she could
probably break some sort of land speed record.

With the front
students now seated I notice Mason’s carrot top head, further up
the line, closer to me. Its redness is made more obvious by the
black of his cap and the green tassel waving near his ear. He’s had
a haircut for the occasion; it’s shorter at the back than it used
to be. Suddenly, and I have no idea why, I’m incensed at the way he
behaved that night of the party. I’m pissed off at him for being
such a knob. Sure, it was fine if he wanted to ditch me but did he
have to do it there, in plain sight of the entire world? A
lame-arse text would have been preferable to what he did to me. And
was there any need for him to tell his mates we split up because
I’d been sleeping around? That wasn’t nice, at all. Rather
vindictive actually. And untrue.

No, I don’t
will Mason to turn and acknowledge me. Personally, I’d be happier
if a crow flew down and pecked out his eyes. Maybe I could will him
to trip and fall down the stairs? That’d be a comeuppance of
sorts.

Resigned to
the fact that Emily will probably never speak to me again and I
don’t care if Mason falls off the face of the Earth, I continue the
slow march down the stairs, watching the people in front of me
taking their allotted seats. My eyes scan the crowd in a vein hope
that I’ll see someone I know, someone who’s come just for me. It’s
a ridiculous notion, I know. I should just suck it up but everyone
needs someone, don’t they? Even me.

A few more
black caps take their places and as I’m about to reach my seat, I
notice Mason’s family sitting in the row directly behind where I’m
supposed to sit. Like, literally, close enough to touch. Close
enough to say more mean things and completely ruin my day. They
probably have daggers under their coats to fling at my back as I
pass. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

I study them
out the corner of my eye, ready to dart any flying objects if need
be. Mason’s parents are straight as arrows. His mother is perched
on the edge of her seat, staring at the stage as if the entire
audience is focussed on her. Beside her, Brock looks incredibly
bored. He’s playing with something on his phone and Bianca — who I
decide is wearing white so she’d be more noticeable in the sea of
black gowns — is looking all smarmy and cat-that-got-the-cream.
Until she sees me, that is. Her face changes to a look somewhere
between repulsion and loathing. She elbows Brock so hard his phone
goes flying and lands in the aisle at my feet and as I’m trying to
avoid stepping on it — which I would totally
like
to do — I
somehow manage to stumble and fall into the person below me in the
line. She topples and lands on the person in front of her and
suddenly; we are like a bunch of dominoes in the World Knock Down
championship. Mortarboards are flying. Girls are squealing and boys
are laughing and everyone is landing in a jumbled heap in the aisle
with body parts on show I’m sure they would rather have kept
covered. There’s a collective gasp from the audience, then stunned
silence.

Oops, I think,
as I right myself and hold out a hand to the girl in front of me.
Not a good way to start the ceremony.

On the other
hand, seeing Mason’s red head crashing into the carpet and Emily’s
shoe flying into the air to hit him in the nose, sort of makes it
worth it.

Blood is
pouring down Mason’s chin and splattering across his shirt. A look
of disgusted horror suffuses his face as he attempts to clean
himself up with his hanky. Trying not to smirk, I walk composed to
my seat. I am gliding like a serene angel, ignoring Mason and Emily
who are glaring at me like I, totally, caused this ruckus. I don’t
give a shit. In fact, I lift my middle finger ever so slowly as if
to scratch my nose.

So high
school.

And so
completely satisfying.

It takes five
minutes or so before everyone is straightened out and seated before
the ceremony starts. The dean makes a pathetic joke about the Class
of 2015 only being remembered for falling down stairs and we laugh
politely. I walk onto the stage with the rest of my year group and
pause after collecting my degree; still melancholy that Nicholas
and Joel aren’t here to see it. A while later, I take the stage for
the second time to address the crowd as Dux of my year. My eyes
sweep over the unfamiliar faces. I swallow and suck in a nervous
breath. Then I spy two familiar figures standing in front of the
exit doors with their hands in their pockets and my heart bursts
with joy.

*****

My degree
firmly in my grasp, I bound up the auditorium stairs. I pull up in
front of Nicholas and Joel. “I knew you’d come!” I exclaim. “I knew
you wouldn’t leave me here alone.”

My heart is
overflowing. I think it may be about to explode with happiness. I
wish I could kiss them. Or just plain hug them but we settle for an
awkward graze of each other’s fingers and a look that means more
than any kiss will ever mean.

“You did not.”
Joel’s lips are curved in that wonderful grin. It’s warming the
place inside me that was empty and sad two minutes ago. It fills
the darkness of the auditorium with sunshine. “Nice move with the
human dominoes by the way, Ariel.”

“You saw
that?”

“Was that the
famous Mason at the bottom of the pile with the blood nose?”

“I think I
managed to get him back for the humiliation he caused me without
even meaning to.”

“You’re an
evil minx. I don’t want to be on your bad side. Ever.”

“Probably a
good move.” I’m so happy now, so happy the boys are here with me I
don’t care who knows it, so I link my arms with theirs and we leave
the auditorium, heading along the path to where the cocktail hour
is to be held.

As we walk
heads turn but I don’t care. I stand tall and proud. I want to show
everyone how much I love Nicholas and Joel and how happy I am that
they’re mine. The curious looks and a couple of down right rude
ones continue until we reach the door of the function room.

“Can’t we bail
on this?” Joel whispers, holding the door open for me. “I hate this
stuff. Schmoozing is more Nick’s thing.”

“Nope. I have
to be seen. Being Dux and all but you don’t have to come if you
don’t want to. You could wait in the car.” I’m conscious that
merely by being here the boys have gone out on a limb. It might be
nice for them to be here and for me to claim them as my own for the
world to see but nothing has really changed. This is only going to
cause the shit to hit the fan a lot sooner than before.

Nicholas steps
inside the door. He takes my hand, pulling me after him. “I’m not
waiting in any bloody car. I don’t give a fuck anymore, Sadie. I’ve
nothing to hide. Let them all see how much I love you.”

Joel seems a
little undecided. For once, I think he might be taking the
conservative route and that worries me. “Oh what the hell,” he says
at last, and follows us into the reception.

*****

For most of
the cocktail hour, things go smoothly. Holding tight to my hand,
Nicholas and I mingle. Joel is on my other side. He’s pulled back,
not wanting to appear as more than a friend and I can understand
that, this is a super weird situation. But every time I glance at
him I see the pain in his eyes, and when he looks at Nicholas’ hand
holding mine the hurt appears even bigger. I know Joel wants to be
the one announcing our relationship and it hurts me that I’m
hurting him so. But what can we do? If he’s not willing to stand up
as my partner I’m not going to force him.

The more we
move about the room, the more intrusive the questions become but
when we explain nobody seems to care that Nicholas and I are seeing
each other. Nobody gives it a second thought, not even when
Nicholas explains he was attracted to me during my internship but
couldn’t act upon his feelings. It’s as if everything is above
board. We might be able to pull this off. We might be able to be
seen in public like an ordinary couple with a handsome
sidekick.

Until, that
is, I see Emily.

Emily is
standing in a small group a couple of metres away, her back facing
me. She’s so close I have to speak to her; it would be rude if I
didn’t. And whether she forgives me or not, the least I can do is
apologise again and congratulate her on being the only person in
history to get a degree without doing any of the required reading.
We used to joke about that all the time. That and the fact that she
never had books to begin the semester and somehow managed to cajole
second hand ones at half the price from some poor unsuspecting boy
during book sale day. Even then she never read them.

Leaving
Nicholas chatting to some people he knows, I move in her direction
and as if by some sixth sense she turns. She looks me up and down,
her blue eyes like ice freezing my heart. I don’t think I’ve ever
seen her look so cold and distant.