I had no
idea. No idea how different the world
could be. Over the past few weeks,
everything seemed to change, but nothing actually did. Only my body - slowly – a piece at a time. Repairing itself. I had finally stopped smoking weed. Not a temporary intermission, rather a
permanent change made intentionally and designed to increase my happiness.
It worked.
Suddenly I
felt better – in no specific way – I simply felt
better. All the time. The sun seemed warmer, colours seemed
brighter and the fog that clouded my brain seemed to fade disperse. For the first time in a long time it felt nice
just being alive.
Deciding to
set aside my customary arrogance, I elected to listen to the eminent Charles
Chaudhry and take the medications that he had prescribed. Anti-depressants. He told me that they would alter my brain
chemistry to make me feel better. I had
no idea how they worked, but I figured it couldn’t be much worse than four
consecutive years of marijuana. Finding
that my body had grown weak and chicken-like, I started going to the gym. It was almost a physical metaphor for the
changes that I was undergoing. The
pursuit of fitness became a platform upon which goal setting could occur.
Meanwhile, I
was seeing less and less of Mitch and Avery.
I couldn’t have imagined the pressure they were under - Avery
especially. Ever the capable matriarch,
she was managing the day to day chores of the Heidelberg House while tending to
Mitch who was sinking into his own dark depression. It was deep and it was profound and it had
been building for many years.
Selfishly (or
so I thought at the time), I maintained a laser-like focus on myself. I had to.
Every day was a struggle to keep my mind off weed. I would try my hardest to avoid going down
dark mental pathways as I continued to write the motivational numbers on the
back of my hand.
Owen too was
making changes. Almost simultaneously to
me, he had looked about at the landscape of his life and decided to make some
changes. He’d met a new girl – one that
was much different to Nikki – and she was instrumental in his healing. Little by little, he began spending less time
at the Heidelberg House, and as a consequence, we spent a lot more time
together wondering what people did with themselves while sober. As I attempted to repair the damage that I
had done to my life, Owen was there to encourage me – he was my champion and
advocate.
Within a
matter of months, Mitch became inaccessible – protected from the world by Avery
who answered his calls and text messages.
At the time, I hated it, and I resented her, but I clearly didn’t have
all the facts. Still living there, Owen
would provide me with half remembered accounts of what was happening at the
Heidelberg House. It was as if a dark
cloud had descended over its residents, each one succumbing to unemployment,
alcoholism, drug abuse and depression.
Part of me felt guilty for abandoning them, but I knew that weed was
still a part of their lives, and I needed to avoid such temptations (at least
for the time being). Weeks would pass
where I wouldn’t see or hear from Mitch or Avery. Then months.
Their absence
only compounded the pain I felt each day – I had lost my friends. What was worse was their implication that I
had betrayed them – that I had somehow “defected” as I attempted to fix my
life. My apartment, once filled with
activity, now remained silent, empty.
Life went on.
By this time, I
was lucky enough to be engaged in regular employment – an endeavour which not
only provided income, but used up a considerable amount time in which I could
be tempted to revert to my depressed state.
Eventually, I made some new friends, but it simply wasn’t the same. Something was missing. Not a day went by when I didn’t think about
calling Mitch and Avery, if only to hear their voices.
It was as if
all of the players of the last four years of my life decided to part ways or
embark on new adventures. Everyone went
their separate ways. Jesse and Amber
returned from their trip and elected not to make contact with anyone from the
group at all. We were all hurt, but
hardly surprised. I’ll always remember
being in the throes of depression and instead of compassion, or even sympathy –
receiving judgement. Philip had finally
met a girl who made him happy. Just an
unusual as he, she was small and pixie-like with an affinity for baking
delicious pastries and chocolates. Craig
had moved home to Queensland months earlier where he remained. We e-mailed back and forth a few times, but
my guilt at how I had mismanaged the end of our friendship got the better of me
and we eventually lost touch. Isobel
married a bodybuilder and moved interstate, Denise re-attached herself to Amber
upon her return and poor Zach, unfortunately, just kept on drinking.
It was the end
of everything, and everything else.
ONE YEAR LATER
“Here we are
man, on the very last page”
Mitch and I
sat reminiscing in the ruins of my apartment.
We were surrounded by boxes filled with my possessions, ready for
removalists. The furniture, now mostly
disassembled, sat stacked neatly in piles around the room. It was time.
I was finally moving out.
“This could be
one of the last times we hang out here” Mitch offered, taking a drag on his
cigarette.
“No dude”, I
replied, “This really is the last
time. The very last time.”
I couldn’t believe
the words that had just fallen from my lips.
Couldn’t believe I had finally said them aloud. My apartment had meant so much to me, it had
sustained me, and in a way it was the only thing that hadn’t let me down. Sure, there had been some bad times (quite a
few in fact), but that place had kept me alive.
Mitch seemed
just as emotional as I was about moving.
The walls seemed to echo with all our forgotten conversations. This chapter of my life was ending, and
another one waiting just around the corner.
In the many
months since we had last spoken, Mitch and Avery had bought some land out in
the country. Brandy (having broken up
with Cooper) would be joining them, and together they would live like colonial
pioneers. Or hippies.
After months
of silence and simmering resentment, Avery and I were on tentative speaking
terms. I knew that our friendship had
been irreparably damaged and it filled me with sadness and regret. I was never really angry with her. I just missed my friends, I missed being part
of a group and I had missed Mitch.
But soon
enough, the moment came – Mitch had to go.
We had stayed up talking well into the night, touring my tiny apartment. Remembering all the many places we had passed
out or fallen asleep. Remembering the
time we projectile vomited off my balcony.
We had lost as
much as we had gained, and done so much growing together.
Amongst the
half assembled furniture, I remember wishing that the night would last forever,
but just as soon as it had begun, it was over.
Tomorrow was moving day – the last day.
As Mitch’s
ride pulled up to the curb, I wrapped my arms around him like I always did, not
knowing when I would see him next. It
was high time I went to bed. Tomorrow
was bound to be a big day. Heading back
inside, I locked the front door, silently regarded my apartment one last time,
and quietly turned out the light.
No comments:
Post a Comment