The Question of Friendship

"Um...uh...well," she trailed off, and I looked back at her. There was something in her eyes that I refused to see, and I felt anger rise up. I was meant to be forlorn and hurt and fawn over her forever, while she had a boyfriend and I spent my nights dreaming of her?

If I hadn't moved on, then she couldn't know that. I had to believe that I could, that she wouldn't have maybe said yes.

"Lara!" a harsh voice barked her name and she turned around and then turned back. Wayne stepped up beside us and glared at his girlfriend, then turned to me.

"Yeah? You are?" I narrowed my eyes and straightened, staring him down.

"I'm Daniel." His eyes narrowed, and he bristled. I felt myself growing angry for a thousand different reasons, and his lip lifted in disgust. "I'm-"

"You're a fuckwit who treats his girlfriend like shit because he thinks he can get away with it. Yeah, Wayne, I know who you are." He stared at me unbelievingly as my hand closed into a fist.

Lara looked between the two of us, and stepped back, worriedly looking for help. Dave wondered over, a green-eyed redheaded beauty on his arm.

"Hey, what's up?" Lara grabbed his free arm and turned back to us.

"You need to take Dan for a drink. Please." Dave nodded slowly, and Wayne's lip curled at me. I heard cartilage crack and my right hand was tightly clenched into a fist.

I smiled at him, and his sneer faltered. I took several deep breaths and looked at Lara.

"That's alright, Larsie. We were on our way through..." I didn't finish as Wayne's open beer can smashed into the side of my head and my knees buckled.

My vision swam and I heard Lara scream. My anger flared, and I glared up at Wayne, who was leaning over me, with his beer soaked arm raised high again.

"You stupid bitch. This arrogant heap of shit is what you were going to leave me for? You fucking stupid mole. Look at him now. He's a little boy, playing tough guy. Make me look like an idiot, well, look who's the idiot now?"

My fist led me back up to my feet, and I smashed his jaw back into his skull with a rough snarl. He staggered back, his nose and mouth a bloody mess, then dropped to the ground and lay still. Dave stared open mouthed at me, and I looked away.

Dad came back and dropped his beer as he saw me, and rushed over to my side. I staggered back a few steps and blinked, and Lara was there, too.

Dad pressed his betting slips to the side of my head where I was bleeding, and I took several deep breaths. Lara looked back at Wayne, then at me. I shook my head, and felt my eyes grow hot and prickly.

"Fuck..." said Dave absently, and knocked back a swig from Dad's hip flask. He passed it to the redhead distractedly, who had some and began to cough. Dad led me over to a bench as Lara knelt beside Wayne.

"Hell of a first fight, bud. You okay? How's the noggin?" I took a few more deep breaths and didn't feel light-headed. Dad's drunken revelry had disappeared, and he grabbed the keys.

I made a move to grab them, and he shook his head. "I've been in far worse shape than this and gotten home. That's a hell of a knock."

The security guards began to arrive, and so did Dave. There was a number written in lipstick on his $240 shirt, and he wore an idiot grin on his face. "Greg, Dazz, what's goin' on? We goin' home?" I nodded slowly.

"I've had enough excitement for one day. That alright with you? Dad?" Dave nodded and Dad shrugged as he helped me up. Lara was nowhere to be seen, and there were paramedics tending to Wayne. Dad sniffed and peered at my head.

"Just used the last few betting slips to mop up that mess anyway. They would have been losers. None the less, you're good for it, right?" I smiled and nodded as we headed back towards the car.

After a few days, I stopped having headaches. I still worked out every day, but I stopped thinking about her. Lara would never leave him. I knew that now.

I knew that because she'd gone when I had hit him, disgusted by what I'd done. I knew that because she'd not rung me since.

I still thought of her often, wondering and hoping she was okay. Dave was constantly calling me Ali, and around my place most nights. I know that he was keeping an eye on me in case something happened, but it wasn't that bad.

I didn't think that my world was going to end if I never saw her again. I dreamt of her every night, but tried to convince myself that that didn't matter. I'd had a big hit on the head, anyway.

I held onto the thought that one day it would all be over, and that is what I stuck to. I moved on, through work, and kept going. They promoted me, and that kept me busy, so I rarely had time to stop and think.

When I did, I thought about mundane stuff. Dad's health, Dave's friendship.

I began to write an apology letter to Lara. I'm no writer, but I began. There was so much I wanted to say, and eloquence and the spoken word have never been my forte.

The letter was about eight pages long the last time I crushed it up and threw it away. All I had to say could be said in a single page.

I finally wrote it out, simply and without flowery language. I told her how sorry I was that I had hit Wayne. I told her to break up with him, not for anyone's sake, especially not mine, but for her own.

I told her how much she meant to me, and how much she would always mean to me. And I told her that I would always be her friend.

I'd lost, I knew that now. She'd never leave him, and that was something I had to deal with. I told her how sorry I was that I wasn't the perfect friend that she'd thought I was.

And how I was going to stop trying to destroy the friendship we had, and just accept it. I told her then that I would always, always be there for her. And I meant it.

I folded the letter over and took a deep breath. There was a knock at my office door, and I opened it to see Dave's smiling face. "I got the night off. Wanna have some chow?" I nodded.

"Sure. I gotta make a quick drop off. You cool?" Dave held his hands open wide.

"Let's go."

Lara's office was about six blocks away, a small school building converted when the school had moved into a newer facility. Dave followed me in enthusiastically, and I saw why when I was greeted at the door by the hot redhead from the racetrack.

She beamed happily at him when we strode in, and she jerked her thumb towards the door behind her.

I made my way to Lara's office and knocked. She announced that it was unlocked, and I moved through. She looked tired, and her glasses were on the desk in front of her. She glanced away from the computer screen, and then her face lit up.

She got out of her chair and hugged me, and I felt my chest constrict as it hadn't done in months. She leant back, still holding my arms, and her eyes searched my face.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, and I nodded.

"Dad says I was lucky I got hit in the head. Anywhere else might have been damaged." She smiled and gestured to a seat. She sat on her desk, and I shook my head.

"Don't wanna keep you long. Just wanted to drop this off." Her eyes widened, and she smiled.

"A letter? God, you haven't given me one of those since high school. What's in it?" I smiled sadly, and she reached out and grabbed my hand softly.

"Look... I've never seen you hit anyone. It scared me, both that he'd say something and do something like that to you, and that you'd hit him back. I ran. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm so glad you're okay." I nodded and shrugged.

"You nearly killed him, you know. You broke his jaw and his nose, all in one go. Paramedics said that he's lucky you didn't smash his cartilage back up into his brain and kill him. I always thought that that was just a movie thing."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Rene ruined Dave's brand new shirt with lipstick, so I guess it was a bad day had by all." Lara smiled softly.

"Apparently not all. Rene said she was still recovering. I take it that Dave's claimed another scalp." I nodded, and shrugged.

"He's hanging around longer than normal, at least. That's something. Dad's up twenty-five hundred from one of the betting slips not ruined, so he's happy too." Lara cringed.

"You mean one of the betting slips not soaked in blood." I didn't move, and looked down at the floor. Lara stood up and came to stand in front of me.

Her fingertips moved my chin to the side, and she inspected the still fresh scar at my temple. "Dan, please, are you sure you're okay?"

"Sure." My tone was short and sharp, and I knew I hurt her. If only she'd stop confusing me. I thought I was growing out of her, but every second I spent with her it all came flooding back, hunger renewed.

"How's...uh...I don't even know her name. How's...?" She stared at me intently and I lifted my chin out of her cradling fingertips.

"Fine. Dave's here, we're going out to lunch, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." She blinked, and her hands crossed over her chest.

"Oh. Ok. Well..." her tone was pleading, and I felt my chest ache, and my heart begin to hammer. "Look, Dan, you don't have to run off. What are you doing tonight? Wayne's still..."

I shook my head once and I brought my hand up. I wanted so badly just to touch her, but closed it as I realised I was shaking.

"Goodbye, Lara."

I stalked out of the office quickly, and passed Dave on the way. He didn't notice, until Rene called my name.

He charged out after me and caught my arm. "What the fuck, man, you ok? How's...?" I shook my head again.

"I gotta get out of here, man. Lunch another day?" He nodded slowly, and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine." I swallowed hard and took a breath. "I need to get home." I looked up at the darkening sky, and the storm clouds racing in, which seemed to suit my mood perfectly. "You okay to get home?"

Dave turned back and glanced into the office, where Rene was looking worriedly out the window at the two of us.

"I'll be right. You're the one I'm worried about. Fine's an acronym, and a true one at that." I took another breath as I moved towards my car.

"See you later, bro."

That night, I was staring at the wall as I lifted the weights again and again. I knew that there wasn't anything in them, that I needed the exhaustion that working out brought me.

Problem was I was working out harder and harder, because I was getting more energy from working out. Catch 20 there.

The lights flicked off, and the stereo stopped momentarily before both flickered back on. I lowered the weights and grabbed my shirt, then went to check the fuse box at the top of the stairs.

There was a sudden crack of thunder, and rain began to smash down onto the house.

I swore as the lights flickered again, and out in the living room, the TV suddenly went to static. The storm was in full force outside, and the house began to creak. The old girl had been in plenty of storms before, though, and I wasn't worried.

The lights flicked off, then powered back on the third time. I moved through the house, setting up some candles and a torch over the fireplace, with some matches and some firelighters. Then I moved around, from room to room, and latching all the windows tightly and switching off everything.

I left the light off in the kitchen, and turned on my little clock radio. It played softly through the kitchen, as I went and grabbed a couple more armfuls of wood from the shed. After the third trip, The back porch light went out, and I stumbled into the door.

I nearly dropped the wood, but slammed nice and hard into the door with my elbow. The air was suddenly icy, and I felt my feet beginning to go numb across the grass.

I looked up as the hail started; a dumb thing that I always seem to do, and felt the tiny, ant sized ice cubes sting into me.

I manoeuvred my way inside, and slowly moved up the hall, carrying the wood. I got to the lounge room without dropping the hunks of redgum and stacked them with the rest.

All the lights were off, and I glanced out my window. The streetlights were off, and the sky lit up with sheet lightning. I turned back and felt in the pitch black for my torch.

The tiny light in my hand showed me the matches and firelighters, and I started the fire. After about two minutes, the fire was quite happy, feeding off the paper and firelighters as it caught the wood.

I poked at it absently with the fire set that Lara's father had made for me and sighed. I hoped she was ok.

I stared into the flames and felt the heat on my skin. It would have almost have been romantic if there'd been someone there to share it with. I thought back to the look on Lara's face when I told her that I'd be there for her as a friend, and that I wouldn't let my feelings destroy our friendship.

I'd always been able to read her face, her mood. I didn't know why she suddenly seemed like a stranger to me. I rammed the poker into the flames and breathed out hard.

I had to stop this. I had been thinking about her for nearly six months straight, every day, in the same way. It wasn't healthy.

I sighed. I wasn't healthy. I craved her, a physical craving for her. I sighed again and then cleared my throat and steadied myself. This wasn't good. I had to move on. Plenty of fish in the sea. This wasn't a horror movie. There was always tomorrow.

There was a knock at the door, and lightning crashed. It brought a smile to my face, something out of a horror movie cliche. The first smile I'd had in nearly a week.

It almost hurt; my muscles didn't want to shift from the hard line that they'd been since Cup Day. I thought for a moment that maybe I was going to be okay.

There was another knock at the door, and I threw on a shirt and put the poker down beside the fire.

My footsteps were silent on my fake tiger skin rug, but as soon as my heels touched those wooden floorboards, my heavy footsteps echoed through the house. There was another knock at the door, and I growled and opened it wide.

Lara was standing there, sopping wet. Her hair was plastered down across her face by the rain, and she was holding her arms across her chest, shivering.

She was wearing what was once a soft pink mohair jumper, which seemed now to be holding about nine litres of rain water and seemed to weigh about as much as the both of us put together.

She looked at me, and I held my breath as she stood in my doorway. Everything I've just told you flashed through my mind about a thousand times, and I didn't know whether to slam the door shut in her face or hug her to me or anything.

So now you're up to date. You're as informed as I am. Welcome to my confusion. Where were we? Oh right.

So now she's standing in my doorway, and yeah, life is surprising me. I can't talk, because my mouth is hanging open like the Goodyear blimp is sailing through.

I blink and cough and clear my throat. I still can't talk, but I move aside and let her in. The storm outside has quieted down a bit, but the power still isn't back on. The fire's warm and bright, and Lara's dripping wet.

She's shivering, and smiling like everything's alright. I go and grab a towel, and don't say anything as I take her jumper. It falls to the floor with the wet slap that only sopping wet clothing can make.

I drape the towel around her and start to dry her off. She's shivering still, and we move towards the fire. She's staring at me, and I still can't talk.

I try to ignore the tightness of her white singlet against her breasts, and the soft towel feels like sandpaper as I start drying her off.

She's staring at me as the rain droplets slide across her face, but she barely moves. "What are you doing? It's pouring outside. You'll catch pneumonia. Where the hell did you come from? You're sopping wet."

She doesn't answer, and I pick up her hands after I drape the towel around her shoulders and blow on them. She shivers again, and I begin to rub her shoulders and back with the towel, trying to warm her and dry her off.

"I was at Wayne's. He was trying to talk to me about dinner, about how he wanted to sort things out properly and move on. I just realised that it wasn't where I wanted to be. I needed to talk to you."

"You've always been the one who I can talk to with complete honesty, Dan. I need that from you now. Ok?"

I nod distractedly as I dry her off, pretending that it's nothing important. She stops shivering and just watches me intently. I don't meet her eyes.

"There was never anyone else, was there?"

"...No." She sighs and reaches up to snare my hands in hers. The towel falls back off of her head, and I raise my chin to look at her.

Her wet hair is curled against her face in dark twisting strands, and her eyes are dark and shining. Her lips are parted breathlessly, and my heart's beating so fast it feels like it's humming.

"Then why did you say there was?"

I nearly lie. But another part of me, a louder part, is screaming that it's time to end all this bullshit, one way or another. I'm losing my friend right now, but at least there's no more lying. "I was afraid. Of you...not loving me back."

"So you lied to me about you being with someone?"

"I was desperate. I needed you to think that I don't need you as much as I do. I was trying to convince myself, too." My best friend takes a deep breath, and I look down at our hands, where she still holds mine gently.

"What about how much I need you?" My heart brakes, and I feel my chest ache. My heartbeat slows down, and I give a false smile.

The louder part inside of me is screaming, but I'm afraid again. I don't want to be hurt, and I just hold onto that fear as I answer.

"I'll always be your friend. No one can take that away."

"But nothing more." Why did she have to take even that away from me? She's driving it in, spike after spike. I can't look at her, because I know if I did, that the ache in my chest would crack, and so would I.

I'm strong, just not strong for her. I can't stand up to her like this. I can't withstand this. I'd never be that strong, strong enough to withstand her. I clear my throat, and my false smile slides into place. I pretend I don't hurt and shrug.

"It's not what you want." She's silent, but she doesn't stop staring at me. I move my hands away from hers, and move the towel around her shoulders absently, feeling the fire warming us both. Lara's voice whispers in the dark room.

"I don't know what I want. All I know is that it sure as hell seems like you." I grimace, my face twisting as she mocks me. It hurts so much. I've never felt pain like this before.

She's teasing me, she has to be. I groan and take a breath. I have to say something.

"It didn't seem like that on Cup Day." For a moment, I feel a fierce satisfaction that I'd struck back. Then the ache crashes back in, and I know that that wasn't what I'd wanted to say.

I'm lashing out to hurt her in defence, because she'd hurt me. Her hands settle on mine again, gentle as frost.

"No. You're right. It didn't. But I wanted so badly to keep my best friend and have my boyfriend, too." I hear the pain in her voice and feel myself shrink in shame.

I feel adrift. I don't know what to say or what to do. I feel something, everything, nothing, and I reach for and find that falseness again.

"You have that. I'm still your friend, and you have your boyfriend. So you have that." Lara lifts my hands to her mouth and kisses them gently. I go to pull my scarred knuckles away, but she holds me tight.

"Not with you hurting like this. I don't want to see you like this." The falseness smiles placatingly.

"I can take it." Lara sighs and I feel her breath over my hands. My spine is on fire, and I can feel the aching pain in my chest being pushed away by my racing heart.

Somewhere, some tiny spot inside me is wondering why she's here, and if I'm fooling myself. Wonders too if I'm fooling myself into not believing.