still hang out all the time.’
‘We’ve been hanging out a bit this summer, because everyone has regressed to our high-school group. But we didn’t see each other for months this year.’
‘Do you miss him?’
‘Sometimes. Yeah.’ She shrugs.
We sit in silence. I want to ask about the cheating. I need to ask about the cheating. I shouldn’t ask about the cheating. The cheating is none of my business.
‘Did Alex cheat on you?’ I say, rushing the words out of my mouth so fast I am worried she won’t understand me.
But Vanessa turns her head as soon I say it, and the car veers a little.
‘Who told you that?’ she says, sounding surprised.
‘He did.’
‘Alex told you that?’
‘Well, Alex confirmed it, after his brother told me.’
‘Huh. Yes, he did cheat on me.’
She pauses, changes lane, curses a little under her breath at another car, and I wait.
‘But look. It was one kiss at a party, after a fight when I told him…when I said some pretty terrible things to him. Alex isn’t perfect, that’s for sure, but I wouldn’t want the cheating thing to be the only takeaway from our relationship.’
‘What else should I know?’
‘This is a weird conversation.’
‘Agreed. But what else should I know?’
‘Okay, he’s a good listener. He’ll always respect your opinion. And look after you if you drink too much. He’s fun. He’s kind. Even with the cheating thing, which broke my heart at the time, I think he’s a good person,’ she says.
‘A good person and a good boyfriend are different things though.’
‘Yes,’ she says.
We look at each other.
‘I probably shouldn’t have told you all of that,’ she says.
‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘Let’s agree that this conversation is in the vault.’
‘For sure.’
It takes about fifteen minutes to get to Brunswick and we’re almost there when I call Lucy again, and finally, finally, she answers.
‘Lucy.’ I am so relieved she is alive, I could cry.
‘Natalie.’ She’s sounds like she is crying.
‘What’s wrong? Are you okay?’
‘I threw up. In the gutter.’
‘I’ll be there soon. Where are you?’
‘I want to go home.’
‘I’m coming to take you home.’
‘Hurry.’
‘Tell me what street you are on.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, you can.’
‘It’s too dark. I can’t see anything. I’m all alone.’
‘Just walk to the nearest street sign and tell me what it says.’
‘I can’t. I can’t! I’m lying down. On the grass. I can’t get up.’
‘Yes, you can. I know you can.’
There’s a long silence, where I can hear nothing but her breathing, loud and rattling and uneven, and then she says, ‘Wilson Street.’
‘Great! Stay there. Don’t move.’
‘I’m going to hide behind a car.’
‘Okay, do that. Stay on the phone.’
‘I can’t, I can’t.’ She sounds near hysterical.
‘Okay. Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon.’
She hangs up then, and Vanessa looks at me.
‘She’s on Wilson Street,’ I say.
‘Great.’
I don’t mention the throwing up, because I need Vanessa to let Lucy in her car.
I call Zach again, but there’s nothing but his voicemail. I leave a very short message, telling him to meet me at my house. I don’t think I’ve ever left a voicemail message for Zach before. No one I know even listens to their voicemail, but I figure I should do it in this case.
We turn onto Wilson Street and I call Lucy, but her phone is dead now and goes to voicemail.
Vanessa slows to a crawl and I roll down my window.
‘Lucy,’ I shout out the window at every car.
‘Oh, everyone who lives on this street is going to love us,’ Vanessa says, as I shout at three or four more cars.
‘Natalie!’ Lucy’s head appears from behind a red Astra. Her makeup is smeared and she looks dishevelled.
Vanessa brakes, and I throw open the door and leap out of the car before it has completely stopped. I run to Lucy, and she immediately starts crying and lies down on the footpath. Her feet are bare.
‘I feel so horrible,’ she says. Tears are sliding down her cheeks.
I stroke her hair. ‘Can you stand up?’
‘No.’
‘Come on. Get in the car and we’ll take you home.’
‘I can’t go home.’
‘My house then. Or Zach’s.’
She makes an anguished little noise at the sound of Zach’s name.
‘Where is Zach?’ I ask her.
‘I don’t know. We had a fight.’
‘Alex and I had a fight too.’
‘And you and Zach are fighting. And Mum and I are fighting. And your parents are divorcing. Everyone in the world is fighting. I want to die.’
More tears.
‘We’re not fighting though,’ I say, patting her head.
Vanessa appears beside us, and squats down.
‘Hi Lucy, I’m Vanessa.’ She is using the same kind