GOODBYE TRENT
July 6th 2008 12:30
It was our last breakfast, and it was in some place in West End, and there were posters everywhere and a bit of music as well; sounds splashed in from different cafés and bars and whatever other places there were. Trent and Devon and I were sitting down, looking around. We’d been consuming goodness knows what. We hadn’t slept since the night before and it was difficult remembering everything that happened. Trent’s fingers were shaking slightly, but that was a good thing.
“I’m so over him,” Devon sighed. “I want an affair. I want to move on.”
Trent gave his toast a strange look, and then glared at Devon. “Stop talking about him.” His phone rang but no one heard it. Well, I heard it. Maybe they heard it too.
“You need a patch,” I said. “You put it on your arm to help you survive the cold turkey.”
“But sex is... sex is...”
“I need a smoke,” Trent said, looking around the café, “But it’s not legal here anymore!”
Lean on Me came on the cafe radio and the three of us stood up. Trent, a glass of wine and a lit cigarette in one hand, Devon, a mug of coffee in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, and me, sunglasses on, holding a bottle of beer. We danced, badly. We swayed around, and I looked at Devon, and then at Trent, and things were messy and unbelievable and horribly fiction but it was all for some reason okay, it was all okay.
Once, a long time ago, it would be Andrea and Devon and Trent and I, sitting on a balcony. Then Andrea left. And now Trent. He’s leaving Brisbane to become a journalist overseas. I have abandonment issues. It could be because of my childhood, it could be because of my dead relationships and friendships, it could be that I’m a damn wuss. It’s most likely that I’m a wuss.
I wonder who will have a kid first, who won’t have a kid, who won’t get married, who’ll live the longest, who’ll screw up, who won’t. One day, when we all meet again, we will be great people. Devon and Andrea will be the queens of advertising, Trent will be head of BBC and I will write seemingly important novels. We will all love ourselves too much. Trent said goodbye and left and flew away on Wednesday, and Devon said, Fuck, and our hearts broke once again.
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