String Bridge by Jessica Bell Page A

smiling face. I wonder what he’s thinking. I could ask. But I just sit there, a little drunk, staring at the wrinkles around his mouth; wondering if I’m capable of feeling anything other than this repellent emptiness; wondering whether the emptiness is normal, if I should see a therapist, if I should tell Alex that he has crow’s feet and I don’t, and that his stubble is flecked with gray; whether I should ask if he has got everything out of life he desired.
    “Did you have a good time, babe?” Alex asks, seeming to realize I was trying to start a conversation. How long has it been now? Since we had a decent conversation? I can’t remember. I can’t remember.
    “Um … yeah!” I chirp, false enthusiasm squirting from my mouth like poison. I don’t know how to describe the time I had. Was it a good time? Moments of it were torture—a reminder of what I don’t have. Other moments were sanctified with sheer joy—a reminder of how much music resuscitates my failing pulse. But most of it felt like trying to cross the ocean on a bridge made of fraying string—Will I? Won’t I? Can I? Should I?
    Alex rubs his eyes and mumbles, “Bed?” Looking at me with blind eyes, he slaps his hands on his knees in cue to stand.
    “Er, not sure if I’m ready yet. I think I’ll read a bit. Go if you want. Won’t be long. I just need to get the buzz out of my head before I sleep.”
    Alex smiles with horizontal tight lips. “Okay. Try not to wake me. I’m fucking tired.” Try not to wake you? I presumed he sympathized with me during the concert after the compassion he showed. I guess I presumed wrong. What was that? That moment when he wiped away my tear and I felt a hint of care?
    Once Alex goes to bed, I close the corridor door so as not to wake him with my rattle. I shuffle into my office to grab a book to read, but switch on my computer instead. Perhaps I’ll send a couple of emails back home to Australia. Tell my family my news—whatever that is. But to my surprise and relief my best and lifelong friend, Serena, is online.
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
Heya! You busy?
     
    Serena_Servais
G’day stranger! What u doin up?
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
Went to see Patti Smith!
     
    Serena_Servais
Really? Fab!
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
Yeah was pretty fab! You at work?
     
    Serena_Servais
Nope. Day off. Sittin with my mini laptop in the morning sun drinkin latte, eatin eggs Benedict in Fitzroy. On my own. Lovin it. All peaches and cream, lovey! How’s you?
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
I’m ok. Feelin bit low.
     
    Serena_Servais
???
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
You know me
been to gig
now feelin miserable
story of my life
     
    Serena_Servais
Sorry, egg yoke just went down my chin. On dress. Egg foam on latte. Reckon I could patent new egg latte? … C’mon Mel! Just speak to him. Alex wonderful man. Alex angel. Alex luv u, u luv Alex. What’s problem? We both know he’ll give u gig if u ask! Alex do anything u ask!
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
I just feel so alone …
     
    Serena_Servais
You’re not alone Mel. You have beaut family. You have me too!
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
But that’s problem. He’s really all I have. Not that I don’t appreciate having him, but it’s hard sometimes. I can’t talk to him about some things like I need to. Greek men have weird ways. Can’t talk without fear of maybe having fight if blurt out thoughts wrong. He always misunderstands my intentions. You live on other side of world. My parents live on island with weird ferry timetable. I miss you. I miss Australia. Can I join you for Eggs Benedict? Order me latte, full fat! I’ll jump on plane now! ☺
     
    Serena_Servais
LOL
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
I wish.
     
    Serena_Servais
Don’t forget Tessa!
     
    MelodyHill(Billy?)
Are you kidding? COURSE NOT! Tessa sometimes only savior. Can escape in her world. But not same. Nope. Can’t tell her I feel sad. I’ll just make her cry and psychologically damage her like my mum did