Chapter Text
Wednesday 1 April
6.00 am. My room.
So I just found this notebook in a bag of goodies I got for O-week and I felt like spilling my guts. Not in a literal sense of course. I already did that last night. Stupid refried beans. Toby put a big steaming bowl of them right next to me on the table. Everyone around me was eating, drinking and being normal. And there I was in the centre of it all, yet completely disconnected from everything. Just glaring at that bowl of lumpy brown legumes like it was the source of all my problems.
'Uh, Lila, are you okay?' Izzy the Shih Tzu from four doors down was giving me that look. You know the one. That look of pensive concern. Where someone feels duty-bound to check in on you, but is secretly hoping you'll just nod and say you're okay. Which is exactly what I did.
And I would've been okay. But the problem was that Izzy's questioning caught the attention of the other dogs around the table. Conversations ground to a halt. Fizz put down her taco. Paddy froze mid-nacho dunk, like he was afraid that taking a big scoop of guac would somehow offend the maltese staring at a bowl of refried beans with tears in her eyes.
'Are you sure you're okay, cos it looks like you're crying'. Toby, toller retriever, bringer of the refried beans and stater of the obvious chipped in.
What is it about someone asking if you're okay that just makes you feel infinitely worse? At this point my vision was blurry with tears. The refried beans were now an amorphous brown blob in my line of sight. I was also suddenly feeling sick. Very, very sick. I'd barely eaten a bite but my stomach was roiling. A hand on my shoulder made me flinch. I barely remember running back to my dorm but I made it in the nick of time.
After flushing away the meagre contents of my stomach I scrubbed the smells out of my fur, thankful yet again that my dad coughed up the dollarbucks for an en suite dorm.
At some point while I was in the shower someone had slipped a note under my door.
U okay Li? If u need anything just shout
-R
I quickly realised the note was in fact a napkin. And there was a small blob of salsa on it. Gross.
6.32 am
Still feeling awful. I didn't even drink last night but my 'hangover' feels worse than the day after the Engineering bar crawl. My stomach hurts from retching and my eyes physically ache from crying.
She hasn't answered any of my calls or read any of my messages. I'll try again later when I don't feel so terrible.
8.36 am
I must have fallen back asleep, as I was awoken by banging on my door. I shouted out to ask who it was, wincing at how awful my voice sounded.
'It's Rollo. Are you coming to the lecture?' Rollo is kind of a friend of circumstance. He's the only one on my course who lives in my building; he's on the floor above so usually calls for me on his way down. Except for those times when he oversleeps and I leave without him. Of course, today is a complete role reversal.
'No. Sick,' I explained weakly.
'Oh that sucks, Li. I'll let the prof know. And if you need anything while I'm out just message, okay?' It was only when he'd gone that I realised I didn't say thank you.
11.00 am
So, I tried to eat. Honestly. After a morning trying (and failing) to get hold of Bingo I realised I should probably get some food in me. The shared kitchen wasn't as bad as I was expecting, though the lingering food smells were a little off-putting. While most of the washing up was taken care of, there were still a few dirty plates and empty serving bowls on the side. The surfaces hadn't been wiped though, and there were still some crumbs and bits of food littering the counters and dining table. I guess for any average dog this would be considered pretty clean. But as the apron I wore last night proclaimed, I'm apparently 'nacho average dog'.
I probably could have just disinfected the counter and cooked something, but I just couldn't face it. Instead I grabbed an unopened bag of tortilla chips and ran back to my room.
5.45 pm
Currently wrapped up in my duvet doom scrolling. I just heard another knock on my door a few minutes ago. I assume it was Rollo checking up on me. I normally keep my door open in the evenings (my mum said it would help 'facilitate interaction' with my neighbours) so perhaps he was worried that mine was still tightly sealed. I tried contacting B again but the call wouldn't even go through, and her chat window isn't showing when she was last active. That's not good, is it?
7 pm
I should probably explain what's going on for future Lila, as hopefully soon this little mishap will be a mere footnote in the story of my life.
So, Bingo and I had a fight last night and she's currently not talking to me. I was in the kitchen prepping for Taco Tuesday when she FaceyTalked me. She was feeling pretty down as she just got fired from her lab job (as in, she literally set herself on fire in the lab). So maybe that's why she totally overreacted. After I updated her on everything, she said I seemed 'different' and accused me of flirting with Rollo. Not that there's even anything wrong with that. I'm single. He's single. And then… well some other stuff was said that I'm not going to go into. Long story short, she hung up on me and I haven't heard from her since.
7.03 pm
I just don't get it though. I know she's going through a rough time right now, but she's my best friend. Why can't she just be happy for me? Why can't she understand that I need a little space right now to figure things out?
7.05 pm
Okay I know I said I wanted space, but I called her again. Still no answer.
7.09 pm
Why can't she just forget what happened and move on? It was only a kiss.
Friday 3 April
11.05 am. Library.
Using a gap in my schedule to catch up on Wednesday's lecture notes but struggling to concentrate. My head is a mess. Still no word from Bingo, which I think might be a new record. Even on the days we don't speak she'll usually message me to share a cute video or dark memes (I'm talking about the type of memes you'd only send to your bestie cos everyone else would just think you were certifiably insane). So, the lack of any sort of contact since Tuesday is unsettling.
I still can't face the kitchen. For one, I might be going crazy but it still smells like Mexican food in there; despite Fizz giving it a good clean on Wednesday afternoon. The thought of even touching anything in there makes me want to heave. Needless to say I've been off hot food entirely, pretty much surviving on chips and lollies.
Another reason I'm avoiding the kitchen is that there's usually someone in there, and I'm not feeling particularly social right now. I've been making great pains to speak to as few people as possible, leaving early or staying late to avoid Rollo. I've been making excuses to sit alone in-between lectures, telling my course mates I'm feeling crook so they'll leave me alone (no one has time to get sick on this course!).
I know I'm backsliding and my mum would kill me if she knew, but right now it's just too hard to concentrate on my studies and be social and look after myself AND keep my mind off the fact my best friend hates me.
8.24 pm. Bed of pain My room.
Ugh. Rollo caught up with me as I was walking back to the campus halls. I had my headphones on listening to stompy emo music, so the feel of his beefy arm around my shoulder made me shriek.
'Sorry Li, didn't mean to scare ya' he said as I frantically tried to put my heart back in my chest. He petted the top of my head, which normally I don't mind but today really sent my hackles rising.
I explained (a little haughtily, I'll admit) that he shouldn't just sneak up on people, to which he said 'but I've been calling your name most of the way back.' He also said 'You go at a fair clip for such a small dog' which I chose to take as a compliment. I'm not particularly sporty but maybe I need to give competitive walking a bash.
Anyway where was I? (focus Lila!). Ah yes, so as we walked into the building together Rollo asked what was eating me, and why I've been so quiet this week. I was hoping he wouldn't follow me onto my floor but sadly luck wasn't on my side. 'I just wanna know if you're okay, or if there's anything I can do to help.'
By now we were outside my door and the doberman was looking down at me from his lofty height with a look of genuine concern. For a moment I felt my conscience prickle for being so cold with him. He's been nothing but nice to me since day 1, taking me under his wing on those scary first few days when I felt adrift in a new city all on my own. Sure, he was kind of the catalyst for my rift with Bingo, but none of what happened was his fault, really.
Having told him for like the sixtieth time that I was fine he finally buzzed off, but not before inviting me to a game of Texas holdem in the kitchen with his footie mates. I politely declined, resisting the urge to tell him that I'd sooner rather have a hot sauce enema than play poker with a bunch of rowdy fellas I barely know.
8.26 pm
Got curious and did a search to see if hot sauce enemas are actually a thing. Instant regret.
11.10 pm
I just woke up from the weirdest dream. I was at this really chaotic and surreal funfair where everything was rainbow-y and the clouds were made of fairy floss. I walked into the fortune teller's tent and there was Bingo, shuffling this deck of oversized cards with a cheeky smile on her face. Seeing her in my dream kind of made me feel seasick. I wanted to reach out and pull her towards me, but I was frozen to the spot as she showed me her cards. I realised that each card showed a picture of a memory of us: playing in the backyard as kids, hanging out in my shed, going to the formal together. Suddenly this huge gust of wind blew all the cards out of Bingo's hands. As they scattered in the breeze a bizarre thing happened: the cards all turned into heart-shaped butterflies and flew away. I looked back at Bingo and she was looking at me as the butterflies flapped around us. She blew me a kiss, and then I woke up.
I'm not usually one to analyse dreams, but I think this one is telling me I should probably stop stuffing my face with junk food.
11.47 pm
I tried to put it off, but after waking up from my weird funfair dream I was totally ravenous. It turns out that the bag of crinkle cut chips I inhaled when I got in from uni wasn't a full balanced meal.
Luckily I remembered that I had instant noodles stashed away in the kitchen. I figured at gone 11 on a Friday night the place would be quiet. By this time the partiers are out partying, while everyone else is in their rooms either studying, watching TV or otherwise occupied (the walls are paper thin here, so it's easy to tell who's doing what, and with who).
Of course I had completely forgotten about Rollo and his footie mates with their poker night. So as I rounded the corner I was caught a little off-guard by their laughing. It was only my rumbling stomach that made me take a deep breath and step inside the kitchen.
Luckily they didn't notice me at first, as they were caught up in a conversation about spicy food, or something. Rollo spotted me as I was filling up the kettle.
'LI-LI!' He yelled. His eyes were glassy and he looked elated to see me. Of course his outburst made all the fellas at the table look in my direction. I smiled as best as I could, finding myself under intense scrutiny as five strapping athlete types looked me up and down. The table was full of cans of Carlton Draught, with more empties lined up on the counter.
'Uh hey dudes,' I said, trying to strike a balance of being polite, but not so friendly that they wanted to talk to me. Or worse, ask me to join them.
'This is Lila', Rollo slurred, 'She lives in 1B. She's super brainy and makes a mean pico de gallo.'
I rolled my eyes. He keeps complimenting me on that bloody salsa, like he wasn't the one to give me exact instructions on how to make it. 'Well, that's definitely going on my epitaph', I responded.
'Oh, and she's also funny,' Rollo added. One of the guys whispered something to the malamute next to him. Unfortunately alcohol had affected his volume control knob, so I heard his comment about how he would "smash that". I decided to let it slide.
'So, Li.' Rollo asked, swiftly whacking the lewd malamute across the back of his head. 'What's your favourite food?'
My stomach rumbled at the mention of food. I haven't had a proper hot meal in nearly a week. So maybe that's why I answered him honestly instead of cracking a joke. 'Spag bol', I said without hesitation. 'But not Leggo's, Dolmio or any of the store-bought stuff. The real deal, with red wine, carrots, celery and all that.' Okay I probably sounded like a total food snob, but I have Italian blood, and honestly Nana's spaghetti bolognese is probably the most heavenly thing I've ever put in my mouth. I miss it so much.
'You know what would make spag bol even better? Hot sauce!' Rollo bellowed, before laughing like an absolute loon. Definitely not one of his most sophisticated jokes. Thankfully at this point the kettle had boiled, so I poured the water into the instant noodle pot and made a hasty exit. As I walked down the corridor back to my room the five dogs erupted into laughter. Why do I feel like it was a joke at my expense?
Sunday 5 April
6.00 pm. My room (where else?)
So fed up. I’m sick of these four walls, but I have no inclination or motivation to go anywhere. I headed out early Saturday to get more junk food (don’t judge me) so I can avoid the kitchen entirely. I also picked up some tissues, hand sanitiser and the minty shower gel that makes me feel zingy . Izzy and Fizz swung by and invited me for brunch this morning. I know I should’ve gone, but I couldn’t face it. I just can’t be around best friends right now.
Still no word from Bingo, nor indeed any sign of life. I’m now pretty certain that she’s blocked me, as I can’t see any of her activity. I keep checking her Pawstagram (the only place where I think she’s forgotten to block me), even though she hasn’t been active on that in months. I just wanna know if she’s as miserable as me okay.
On the plus side, I did manage to organise my planner for next week. And the week after. And the week after that. Then I cleaned the bathroom, changed the bedding and did all the usual boring life admin. Then I took all my books off the shelf, wiped down the surfaces, wiped down the books, and put them back on the shelf. Then I hid my cork board because it's full of photos of Bingo so it was making my eyes leak. But even after all that it still felt like I had far too much time to kill.
Haven't spoken to Rollo since Friday, but that's cos he's out actually having a life. I saw him heading to the gym on Saturday afternoon, and he's been pretty active in the bioeng group chat, but he hasn't knocked on my door since Friday. What do I expect? I haven't exactly been a merry maltese this week. For a moment I considered calling on him, maybe under the pretence of talking about our biomaterials assignment. But I don't actually know which dorm he's in and I'm too proud to ask. Guess I'll just go clean my desk again.
Monday 6 April
2.00 pm. Computing lab.
I dreamt about her again last night. I don't really remember the dream as well as the fortune teller one; all I know was that she was so angry with me. When I woke up my stomach was in knots and my pillow was wet.
It must've shaken me pretty badly as I asked Rollo to call on me. I was grateful for his chatterbox ways as we walked into lectures together. He's stopped asking me what's wrong, though he offered to buy me a coffee as apparently I look tired.
We have a bit of a gap until our lab session so the rest of the gang went to hang out, but I held back here on the pretence of doing some more reading. If everyone thought I was a nerd before then they definitely do now.
2.24 pm. Campus coffee shop.
So I did something stupid. When I left the computer lab I saw a phone box. I know I shouldn't have done it. But I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment. My heart was thudding so hard as I dialled her number. She answered on the fourth ring. You know that feeling like someone's just chucked a bucket of icy water on you? Multiply that by a thousand and that's how awful I felt when I heard her voice. I hung up in panic and started crying again. It's confirmed: Bingo is definitely still ignoring me.
7.28 pm. My room.
Exhausted. I nodded off a few times during the prac this afternoon. Penny, my lab partner, had to jolt me awake a few times. When I confessed that I'd forgotten to eat lunch she snuck a granola bar onto my lab, which I snarfed down when the lecturer wasn't looking. Just about got through the session and have just climbed into bed. Early night for me.
7.35 pm.
Spoke too soon. Message from Rollo:
'Hey Li I've made too much curry. You want some?'
I tapped out a thanks but no thanks. His curries are far too spicy. Hoped that would be the end of it, but he kept sending me messages.
'Doesn't have to be curry. How about beans on toast?'
'Or protein shake? I have a cookies and cream one that's yummo.'
'Are you sure you don't want anything?'
After reassuring him that didn't need or want any food, I ate a few spoonfuls of peanut butter, took another shower and slipped back under the covers. My mum called but I let it ring out, then messaged to tell her I was out with friends and I'd call her tomorrow. And I should probably keep my word this time.
Tuesday 7 April
7.07 am. Tomb of existential ennui (aka my room).
I swear my sleep is getting worse by the day. Last night I kept waking up and ruminating on everything. I can't stop replaying the conversation with Bingo and wondering what I could've done differently. What I should've done differently. But every road leads to the same dead end. What else could I have said? It shouldn't have happened. It was a mistake. She can't possibly think that what we did was a good idea. Anyway, I'm boring myself so I can't imagine how tedious this must be for you, diary. In fact I'm surprised you haven't sprouted wings and flown away yet.
1.56 pm. Lecture hall.
Tried to be social and went to have lunch with my course mates. Someone suggested grabbing sushi from the campus centre and having a bit of a picnic. I'm very fussy particular about sushi so I just had a seaweed salad, but my heart wasn’t in it. Still, it was nice to be out in the sun with the gang. I think I’m finally starting to reach that point now that I don't feel constantly self-conscious around them. And I think Rollo has been a big facilitator in that. It helps that he laughs at all my jokes; even the ones that aren’t funny. He also fills silences and keeps conversation ticking along nicely. So maybe I let my guard down a little too much today, as I caught Giles looking at me during my second pass with the hand sanitiser.
Anyway, just one lecture to go, and then freedom. A bit of a shorter day than usual so I’ll use it to get ahead on my biophysics assignment.
5.47 pm. My room.
I’m a mess.
I was at my desk when I noticed a slip of paper had fallen onto the floor. When I picked it up I realised it was my graduation photo. More specifically, it was mine and Bingo’s graduation photo. We had our photos taken separately of course, but my mum and Bingo’s parents asked the photographer for a joint photo as well. That’s actually the one my mum has on the wall, as she says my smile is ‘brighter’ when Bingo’s beside me. And she’s not wrong. We look so proud, even if Bingo looks a little dorky with her cap over one ear!
Anyway, seeing the photo again this afternoon just broke me. Sure, I’ve cried a couple of times this week. But this afternoon it’s like a dam has burst. In fact I should probably open my window so I don’t drown in all these tears. I miss her so much it physically hurts, but I’m so angry at her for leaving me like this. It’s been nearly a week since the fight, and I don’t know how much more I can
Oh, message from Rollo:
Can I borrow you for a mo? Have some questions bout the assignment. I’m in the kitchen.
Seriously, what is it with extroverts? He has a perfectly good desk in his dorm yet he insists on doing his coursework in the communal areas. I’ll splash some water on my face and see what he wants.
9.02 pm. Pasta heaven.
When I got to the kitchen I quickly realised I’d been set up.
Rollo was spraying down the counter, and everything looked sparkling. I didn’t even know the kitchen could get that clean. I took in the sight of this strapping 6 foot 4 athlete in a pair of pink rubber gloves working away at a stubborn food stain.
‘I thought you were working on the assignment’, I stated. ‘Oh, and you’re cleaning the counter with Windex.’ Rollo laughed, and suddenly it felt like the tension I was carrying was lifting a little. I quickly located the multi-surface spray and went over the surfaces again. Once everything was sparkling I finally asked him what was going on.
‘So Li,’ he began, looking down at me earnestly. ‘I’ve finally figured out why you’re so down this week’.
Of course he’s figured it out , I thought to myself. He saw how angry Bingo was on Faceytalk. And he’s probably noticed that I haven't spoken about her all week . I braced myself for more tears.
He placed his arm on my shoulder. More gently and cautiously than he’s ever done before. ‘Lila, You’re homesick, aren’t you?’
I think he took my exhale as confirmation, as he wrapped me in a huge bear hug. Honestly? I was nice. I scrunched up my face to stop the tears from welling up again.
‘It’s why you’ve been withdrawn, and explains why you haven't been eating very well’, he continued, reaching for a shopping bag. ‘Which is why I’m making you your favourite food. Spag bol!’
Diary, I was not expecting that.
‘I found a recipe for the real deal. Carrots. Celery. Red wine. Bay leaves. Just like you said the other night. Do you wanna help me make it?’
I smiled and nodded, taking a few deep breaths to keep the tears at bay.
It was nice. He handed me an apron and gave me precise instructions for how he wanted everything prepped. As I peeled carrots and made it my mission to dice the onion as small as I possibly can, he poured me a glass of red wine. ‘The recipe only calls for 200 ml, the rest is for the chefs’, he winked. We said cheers and I took a sip, almost sighing with how good it tasted.
He chatted away as we continued the ritual, telling me all about growing up in Sydney with his parents and big sis. ‘Freya was homesick too when she went away for her undergrad’, he explained as he stirred the soffritto. ‘Luckily her girlfriend at the time brought her snacks that reminded her of home, and Freya said it really helped. It’s where I got the idea.’
A few other dogs passed through the kitchen as we cooked, but I didn’t mind. Rollo owned the room, being his usual gregarious self with everyone while I just watched the ragu simmer. Maybe after a week of eating barely anything the wine had gone to my head a little, but I felt like a balloon slowly deflating, the pent-up air escaping in a quiet whoosh.
As the spaghetti cooked I realised I was ravenous. It wasn’t quite like Nana’s, but the aroma was pretty similar. And when Rollo put the steaming bowl down in front of me, it was the most excitement I’ve felt in a while (wow, I definitely need to get out more). I twirled the strands around my fork and felt this wave of warmth and delight as the first bite slipped down my throat. I looked up at Rollo, who was eyeing me expectantly, and gave him a smile and thumbs up.
It was so good that I went back for seconds.