The Problem With Crazy (11 page)

“I didn’t know first-class had free drinks.” Stacey flashed a smile at the waiter, who pretty much melted on the spot.

“Oh, they’re, uh, not free.” He cleared his throat. “They’re from the gentleman at the bar.”

My stomach dropped. Stacey’s elbow made contact with my arm so hard, I worried it would bruise.

“Kate!” she squeal-whispered. “Lee—freaking—Collins just bought us a drink.”

I spun in my stool to look at the bar behind us. Sure enough, Lee and his four security guards, as well as his two band-mates, were sitting at the bar. He raised a glass filled with ice and amber-coloured liquid in my direction, and I gave a weak smile and tipped my glass of sparkling back.

How was this happening? Why was this happening? Now Lee Collins was taking pity on me, no doubt after hearing about my dad, and possibly the break up. He’d sent me a sympathy drink?

“You have it.” I pushed my glass in Stacey’s direction, resting my head between my hands. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster, my mind flipping from wishing Dave still wanted me, to wondering what I’d seen in the douche in the first place. Either way, I knew Stacey thought she was helping, but was subjecting me to a weeklong graduation party honestly the best plan of attack? I didn’t feel like partying. Maybe I should change my mind about going.

“Check out her rack.” I heard a guy yell from somewhere behind me. Stacey tossed her hair over her shoulder ambiguously.

Scratch the maybe. Make that a definite.

The trip went by in a daze. I fell asleep as soon as the plane was in the air, the exhaustion of the airport wearing on my mind. I didn’t see Dave once on the plane—the perks of being in first class—and Lee Collins didn’t try and extend his pity on me any further.

We landed in beautiful, sunny Queensland and Stacey and I bolted off the plane, making a quick trip through the airport to get to a cab waiting outside. I felt like an outsider from the get-go. How could I go forth and enjoy the sunshine when it felt like I was storming on the inside?

The apartment I’d transferred us to, however, did a little to lift my mood. It was the top floor of a building that rested right on the beach, giving us a180-degree balcony view of beautiful Surfers Paradise.

Apparently, booking a room for a tour with Coal came with definite perks and upgrades.

“Check out the size of the TV.” My eyes widened at the seriously giant flat screen on the wall in the living room.

“That’s nothing. Have you seen the spa?” Stacey came bouncing out of the en suite with a giant, fluffy robe wrapped around her shoulders. “And the bed feels amazing!”

I ran through the two-bedroom suite to my room. It was huge, far too big for one person, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing views of the city below. In the middle was a giant, perfectly white pressed-down bed. I suppressed the urge to just jump on it and mess it up, but it was hard.

Exploration complete, I returned to the living room and took my phone out of my bag, checking it again. Still nothing. No new messages. Not even one from Mum.

Who was I waiting to hear from, anyway?

“All right. You’re having a shower while I fix us up a little something, before we spend some serious time on the balcony watching the sunset,” Stacey ordered.

“Stacey, I don’t really feel like drinking …”

“Uh-uh. I’m making you one super-weak, half-strength cocktail. Because I’m a good friend.” She marched to her bag, grabbing her wallet and phone. “Go shower. I’ll be back in a sec. We need to talk about all this—” Stacey raised her finger up and down in the direction of my body “—stuff going on with you. I just need to grab some supplies.”

I smiled and looked at my feet. I was glad she knew I still needed to talk, even though I’d denied it earlier. “Thanks,” I said shyly. It was good to know that, even though everything around me was seriously screwed up, my best friend wasn’t changing.

I went into my room and unzipped my bag, searching for something comfy to change into. Just before I left the room I checked my phone again and saw a little light flash up on the screen. One new message.

My breath caught in my throat as I fumbled to grab it, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through me. Was it Dave? Maybe he was apologising. Hell, maybe it was Lee Collins, offering me my job back, and … I quickly clicked through and watched as the words blinked over the screen.

Hi darling, just letting you know I’ve put some cash into your account. Try not to stress too much about Dave. If it was meant to be, it will work out. Have a great holiday, Mum xx

I slowly exhaled. If it was meant to be it would be? So Dad was meant to fall sick and die? I was meant to have my entire career plan ruined?

I dropped my phone on the bed and took my clothes and toiletries into the bathroom.

The shower was one of the best I’d had in ages. The heat of the water pounded against my head, sluicing its way through my hair and warming my lower back. I spent almost twenty minutes in there, soaking up the warmth and the wetness, feeling extra luxurious.

I dried myself with a towel that could have been made from baby rabbit fur it felt so soft. I threw on a tank and some shorts and walked out to the living room.

Stacey was already on the balcony, a bowl of chips resting on the little table beside her, an orange-and-red coloured drink in her hand.

“I made us vodka sunrises,” she said, as she handed me a glass from the tiled balcony floor. “Technically, we’re watching a sunset, but I figure it’s gotta be rising somewhere, right?”

“Thanks.” I smiled and took my drink, settling down on the wooden chair next to her. Miles and miles of beach spread out below us, dotted with tiny little spots of humans. In the water, families played, girls floated and guys surfed, tearing up the waves like little miniature men on their surfboards.

In the distance, ships cluttered the horizon, waiting to unload their cargo and get on the move again. Coloured lights twinkled down both sides of the boardwalk, promoting clubs, restaurants, bars and tattoo parlours.

I felt like an alien, watching it all. This world, it went on, even though mine had come to a stop. The surfers moved to the next wave, the ships to port, the people to the buildings. I wasn’t a part of the circle. I was stalled.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Stacey winked at me, before turning her gaze to the vista once more.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.

Where to start? How do you explain to someone with no prior knowledge of the situation the problems you’re having with a neurodegenerative disease, and your ex-boyfriend’s inappropriate use of the word crazy?

“Stace, it’s hard.” I sighed. “I mean, not to tell
you
,
that’s not hard, but—”

“Wait!” Stacey held up a hand. She leaned over and passed me the bowl from the table next to her. “This sounds like a story that needs a good chip.”

I grinned, and grabbed a handful of the salted potato goodness. I chewed, chewed and swallowed. Repeat.

Chew, chew, swallow. Repeat. Breathe.

Sometimes, my best friend was a downright genius.

“Last week, I found out something pretty crazy.” I let the words tumble from my mouth. I told her everything: how I’d overheard my parents from the kitchen, how Dave had walked in, how he’d found out that I might have the disease, too—and how he’d left. How he’d signed some girl’s boobs, and before we could have sex, stopped it, and broke up with me because my dad was too hard—dating me was too hard. How I’d had to visit a counsellor, who made me feel about two feet tall. And, amazingly, whether it was due to the vodka, the potato chips, or simply Stacey’s calming presence, I managed not to cry.

“Kate.” Stacey’s voice was quiet when I’d finished. “Wow.”

“I know.”

We gazed out at the ocean as it ebbed and flowed against the sand. The sky had changed to a deep purple, with tinges of orange highlighting the horizon.

“So he just broke up with you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Then yelled at you at the airport for stealing his room?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And you haven’t heard from him since?”

I checked my phone for the zillionth time.

“Nope.”

“He’s a jerk. What an absolute idiot.” Stacey let loose and yelled her words over the balcony. “How could someone be such a dick? Seriously!”

“Look, I checked out Lee Collins, and he was upset, and I was jealous he signed this girl’s boobs, and my dad—I … I kind of get it.”

Stacey leaned over and slapped me, her palm making direct contact with my cheek. I widened my eyes and pressed a hand to my face, feeling the smart where she’d made impact.

“What the hell?”

“Don’t you ever say that again. There’s nothing to ‘get’. He left because he was an asshole.” Stacey stood and rested her body against the balcony. “Thank goodness I made you use your flights. I knew it’d be for the best. We’re going to find some new guys to distract you.” She wriggled her eyebrows comically.

“I’m not interested in that.” If Dave didn’t want me, who would?

“Ah, young Kate.” Stacey shook her head. “You are yet to learn the benefits of the flirting-and-making-out-with males ego-boosting technique.”

“Clearly not an area you’re struggling in,” I muttered.

“Damn straight.” Stace shrugged. She took a swig from her virtually untouched drink. “Can I ask you a question?”

I nodded.

“Are you going to take the test?”

The words imprinted themselves on my heart. I’d known she was going to ask, but I’d hoped she wouldn’t. Or maybe I’d hoped she would. I didn’t know; my mind flicked from positive to negative, over and over again, until I got dizzy.

Was I going to take the test? Was I going to find out for 100 per cent sure if I had the disease or not?

My phone beeped into life, vibrating its way across the table.

“Ah!” I snatched it up.

“Text from an unknown number?” Stacey’s eyes were wide. “Looks like maybe you’ve started the moving on already.”

“It’s nothing.” I felt my face flush warm. I had no idea who it could be.

“Well, Lee from Coal certainly seemed pretty interested, buying you a drink. Maybe he’s heard about the breakup, and he’s asking you on a date,” Stacey said.

“Yeah right.”

“It could be true. After all, Michael told me—” Stacey paused. I knew this wouldn’t be good. “—he said Dave told him you wouldn’t screw him ‘cause you were too obsessed with Lee.”

Swoosh
. Air rushed from my mouth.

“He doesn’t believe it.” Stacey squeezed my shoulder. “Now check that message. Who knows? Maybe Lee heard the story and is keen, and somehow found you and is getting in touch.”

“Sure he is,” I said. Stacey grabbed her glass and walked inside. I waited till she’d completely disappeared, and then pulled the phone away from my chest to read the message on screen.

This is a friendly reminder about your upcoming counselling appointment next Wednesday at 5pm. To reschedule, contact 1800 628 192.

My heart sank to somewhere low in my ribcage. That was about the extent of the dates I could expect in my calendar from this point forward.