Be in the Stars

Can't Leave Vic Behind

I think people fear drowning because they have never experienced suffocating. Or maybe they have. But it’s not all that bad. Maybe I’ve always had tangled passages in my nostrils and throat.. so whenever I go to sleep I need my mouth to have the tongue on its roof and to let my nose do the breathing. It’s nothing I’ve looked into medically, or if I did, I was young.

But people aren’t aware how drowning isn’t suffocating. It’s not being buried alive, where air is slowly but surely harder and warmer and denser to find. It’s cool and salty, or tingly and zesty. It’s a whole new world, and you’re just drinking and thinking and yeah your lungs are giving way, but in that same thought and that same notion of pain, there’s this internal peace.

I think people fear drowning because they’re normal. I fantasise it…

Maybe that’s why I’m here, Scotch in one hand and a dead phone on my sandy towel.

The wind turning cold and harsh as the season turns from summer to Autumn. My eyes can barely make out a kilometre away, where a couple are chasing each other.

If I drowned today they wouldn’t even notice.

But everyone else would.

My parents, my brother, my friends… heck my dog would probably miss me.

But as the burning itch that I get from straight Scotch turns into a savouring hum of deep blues I lean closer to the shore.

My skin now barely needing to be pressed to feel the small lumps in my cheeks that indicate bones; I kicked drinking a few months ago, during summer because I was social in the day and tired by night, barely eating a thing because of my low paying job and my want for what the couple a kilometre away have.

I still remember how Vic met me. I was thin and worn and wanted to sleep, obviously I’d spent much of my day helping a friend pick out a dress for her date as I concealed my inner thoughts, of which guys I’d date, that we passed. Mere strangers, glancing at I assumed to be my friends lovely posture, gothic wake and confidence, that I couldn’t ever mirror unless having a good day. But it was Friday which meant work tomorrow and my week coming to an end. I’d been busy all month so Fridays always seemed to be my winding down day.

My friend had gone to work, but I wanted to stay back with a Gatorade to re-energize, plus I thought I might meet up with someone else who had tried to catch up with me this week.

So I sat down and like my 71 kilo version of me had always dreamt, a tall dark stranger took the opposite seat.

Honestly I was too jaded for flirting, so I assumed that he wanted to be there with a girlfriend.

I stood up and barely looked up. My face felt red and it felt sweaty. I didn’t like the idea of Tall Dark Stranger seeing my grotesque 4 in the afternoon glow.

But he made a sound of protest so I looked at him a bit better, “please stay, I will move if there’s someone you’re meeting,” he told me.

Inhaling a deep breath I told myself I had nothing to lose, I was ugly and fatigue but he was a stranger in the city, the odds of him seeing me again and cringing were low.

So I sat back down.

“Do you do athletics?” he began. I hadn’t been sure if it was my naturally muscled body or my taste in drink, but I gave a simple shake of my head.

He seemed to think about his next question, before saying, “so, I saw you before, I mean, not creepily, I just, you looked like you needed someone to talk to. I was worried, ha, even though you’re a stranger, I mean you could be a pot addict, I mean, sorry.” A weird laugh escaped me and I blushed, damn it, I had thought, don’t go any more red.