The Paz

Where the beach meets the sand about 70 kilometres south of Melbourne.

The alarm went off like a jackhammer in my head, wrenching me from the pleasant dream I was having. Grey light seeped in through the gaps in my curtains; giving everything in my room a thin veil of coldness. I propped myself up with my pillows, rubbed the sleep out of my tired eyes and stared out the window into the morning light. It must have rained all night, water was flowing in small rivers through the front yard, the sky was dark grey that you couldn’t pin point a single patch of blue even if you stared and hunted for hours.

The day outside looks so much better than I felt. It was if it had rained all night inside my head while I was sleeping. Inside my ribcage was a hollow iciness as if snowflakes had continually landed on my chest throughout the night. The surface of my skin was so warm from the heater on my wall, but I felt so cold inside.

There was no mirror in my room but I knew exactly what I would look like right now; my brown hair untidy and stupid looking from sleeping on it, my blue eyes staring into space, my pale skin with a few red dot pimples; and that same blank expression.

I can’t remember the last time I had woken up in the morning and actually wanted to leap out of bed and embrace the day. I just keep asking myself ‘Why embrace a day with an open mind when I know that it will end right back here, in this same bed, beneath these same sheets?’

Every morning I wake at 6am. I’m not sure if this is because of the thin rays of light that crept past the crevasse’s in my curtains, or because my body sadistically enjoys depriving me from sleeping in any longer.

After lying in bed for 30 minutes, I become bored of staring out my window into the semi-dark coldness and drag myself out of bed. Rising to my feet I kick a pile of clothes that are spread across my floor as I walk across the room. Beneath the mess I find fragments of my school uniform.

Once I am dressed I walk down the short hallway into the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror. ‘Look at me in my neat and tidy uniform,’ I thought. I did not smile, however; I fixed my eyes directly on my face’s reflection. My expression changed to one of utter desperation. I put one hand on the mirror, trying to grasp onto some sort of invisible handle that didn’t exist, I wanted to hold onto that thin ray of light that was somewhere deep inside my heart, but it felt as if it had drifted away with my reflection as I left the room.

My uncle had already left for work. I think that he left at around 6am, maybe earlier. I liked to be alone in the mornings anyway; I don’t like talking usually, especially when I have just woken up from a terrible sleep. If you could call a few hours of semi-consciousness sleep at all.

In the kitchen I made myself a coffee. And sat at the kitchen bench as I drank. The kitchen window had the best view in the house as it provided a scene out over the cliffs that were coated in lush green eucalypts and the sea. The water was the most amazing blue I had ever seen. Today however it was grey; the cold winter ruined the view. Out from my pocket I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and coaxed the smoke into my lungs as I slowly drank my coffee.

Sometimes, when my uncle is not home, I sit in this very spot for hours. Staring out that window onto the beach. I watch the birds fly and land in their little nests perched high in branches, the cars drift past, the bike riders in their brightly coloured outfits, the children walking to school with their parents, and the vast empty sea. If anything in this world could reflect me, it would be the ocean. Blue and cold.

Sometimes I wake up in the morning, I open my eyes, and don’t bother to move. I just want to scream as I lie there, I want to thrash my body around my room, I want to break everything in my reach, I want sharp objects to pierce all my vital organs, I want my bookshelf to fall and land on me, I want my room to catch fire and engulf me in flames, I want to sink through the floor into the ground below, because some days I wake up and just don’t see the point. Breathing in money, exhaling out oxygen and bullshit; death and taxes guaranteed.

The spending keeps you content; the never-ending alcohol bender keeps you content, the smile on the cashiers face when she asks you if you have fly bys; keeps you content. If the world ran out of money and working wasn’t necessary, would life stop, like the beating in our chests? Or would it stop like the continued living but cessation of brain activity in a human vegetable.

All we need is money to keep us all alive and well and happy and grand. That sentence alone makes you want to put the revolver in your mouth and be disappointed that you can’t let all 6 shots off into your brain, as if one bullet wouldn’t be enough to take you away from this world; as if St. Peter will be waiting at the Pearly Gates wearing a Rolex and an Armani Suit, holding his hand out in anticipation for the entry fee for paradise, It’d be just like the real world but suicide wouldn’t be available as a way out.

Nothing is the only word that comes to mind when I think of myself, It is also the same word that comes to thought when considering the possibilities of what the future has in hold for all of us. I feel like an asteroid floating through deep space with no real direction; just going through the motions of movement and existence until one day I collide with something, and it’s all over in a single moment. And all that is left of who I was is quickly forgotten.

I left the empty cup of coffee on the sink, and walked back to the bathroom. I stared at myself for the two minutes that it took to brush my teeth, and for the five minutes it took to straighten my school uniform and tame my hair.

Making my way back through the kitchen, I grabbed my blue school bag that was resting against a wall in the entrance room, pocketed my key and left the house.

The rain softly found its way onto my shoulders and head as I avoided the puddles on the footpath, as I made my way to the bus stop. It stung the surface of my skin with its thin coldness. I pulled my jacket over my head to protect my hair from getting too wet. The usual crowd of my peers waited in the cold ahead of me; a couple puffed on their cigarettes, an unattractive girl sitting down was engulfed in her latest fantasy novel. I stood slightly away from the crowd when I reached the bus stop, not too far away that is unreasonable, but far enough to get the usual dirty look from a bitchy blonde girl.

I pulled my collar up a bit further so that it protected my neck from the cold; I reached into my pocket and pulled out my own brand of cigarettes. I lit one up, inhaled a lungful, and began killing myself classily. I heard the signature sound of the engine coming round the corner. Out of my jacket pocket I pull out my iPod, I put the ear buds into my ears, and faded away into Joy Division as I climb aboard.

All I can think about as I step off the bus and walk towards the grey buildings that made up my school was how nice it was going to be when in two weeks this was all over and I never had too see any of these people ever again. As I walked across the school lawn towards my locker I observed all the people around me. A bunch of boys shooting basketball, a few groups of girls scattered around the grass sitting in circles talking, a couple of guys kicking the footy, and then all the remaining that fitted somewhere in the mess. They all hated each other from the day they met, from the first smile, hug, or handshake, and when it comes to graduation they’ll all pretend that they will miss each other so much and their mouths will flow with the endless standard lines, ‘lets keep in touch’. A month will pass, and they will forget about high school altogether. The only difference between them and me is that I’ve already forgotten.

Marcus and Leo were standing next to their lockers as they usually did each morning. Standing around talking shit; waiting for the school bell to ring. Sometimes I wondered why I bothered having any friends at all although sometimes I actually managed to enjoy the mundane conversations that would transpire in the presence of these two. Other times I could barely contain my frustration towards their naivety and ignorance.

Leo was the more attractive of the two if that really meant anything at all. Neither of these individuals managed to converse with the opposite sex aside from the essentials such as asking a girl if they could borrow a pen or say an embarrassed, awkward hello. He liked to hang out with a group of guys at school that I had always felt very out of place around. They would talk about the weekend which was almost always an alcohol fuelled event, sport and girls. Perhaps if the conversations had moved even just once in a while to the discussion of music I would be able to be tolerant, but those three things were the topic of conversation almost every single time either of these boys opened their mouths. Marcus was scarcely different; he loved his sports and played football relatively seriously for some local team on the weekend. I liked Marcus more; he had a depth to him that I had slowly learnt was absent among most people. Once every so often we would have a conversation and it felt like it meant something, like everything that I so desperately wanted to let out was listened to and understood. However I have come to realize that Marcus really has no idea or way of connecting with me on a mental level, and sometimes I find it almost unbearable to be in his presence because of his lack of genuineness. I really think that I am one of the only people to know him as his true and pathetic self.

‘Sup, guys?’ I say as I approach them, adjusting the straps on my backpack.

They both turned to me with blank tired expressions on their faces

‘Hey Alex,’ they said in unison, there tones flat and uninterested.

They subsequently returned to their conversation about the football game on the weekend, they were both dumbfounded at the physical prowess of a certain player. The way they talked was sickening; it was like they were both getting mildly aroused.

I interrupted their conversation after nearly ten minutes of dribble

‘How was the weekend boys?’ I said, feigning my enthusiasm. It was a struggle to appear bubbly or interested – then again it was a Monday morning.

Leo answered first, ‘Yeah pretty mad man. Played on Saturday and we won, I got a few goals in which was sick, then I went out Saturday and got drunk as fuck – still feeling it a bit today,’ He gave me an almost proud smile, not about the game, about the booze.

I barely managed to stop myself from rolling my eyes, ‘Sweet man sounds nice,’ – I don’t think that I sounded too sarcastic.

I turned to Marcus, ‘What about you man?’ It was like he was waiting eagerly to speak. Marcus never seemed to shut up, and he rarely said anything interesting.

’Well I started a new job on Saturday, then went and bought some new jeans and shoes, and then had a few beers with the footy boys in the arvo…

The ‘and thens’ continued until its like it was all he was saying. I managed to stifle my yawn throughout his entire monologue. I felt like I was entitled some sort of reward for this feat. When he finally stopped talking I focused just enough to hear him ask what I did on the weekend.

‘Fuck all really dude, I just hung out,’ I shrugged my shoulders.

The pair looked at one another and exchanged a concerned expression before looking at me. Leo was all uncomfortable and didn’t really know how to handle the situation, so he just looked at his hands and casually bit his finger nails; like a small child incapable of social situations. However Marcus was a confident dude, and I feel that he genuinely cared about me in some way – he looked at me and smiled before he opened his mouth.

‘Man you need to get out a bit more,’ he spoke slowly and condescendingly, with an air as if he knew more about life than I could ever imagine.

I interrupted him defensively, ‘Dude I enjoy my own time, I paint and love to work on my art – I really am not that interested in partying and stuff like that. Its not my thing,’ This was only partially true as I wouldn’t mind going out every now and then, mostly just to attempt and do things that everyone seems to do so much, and see if I myself actually manage to enjoy them.

Leo was looking at his feet awkwardly. He was completely inept in these sorts of situations where someone besides him was the centre of attention.

Marcus smiled at me reassuringly, forgetting my defensive comment, ‘Look bro there is a party coming up two weeks from now, like a end of year 12 thing – and you are coming,’

Marcus must have noticed me thinking of excuses with my eyes, ‘Shake on it man,’

He extended his hand, ‘fuck it’ I thought. I contemplated the idea of something interesting happening doubtfully. I shook his hand.

Marcus winked at me and Leo started talking about footy again, as if he had been desperately waiting to get certain details about the game off his chest.

‘Anyways boys, I gotta go I’ll see you later today or whatever,’ I turned to leave

They mumbled back at me in return as I walked away.

I kept my head down, made my way across a small lawn surrounded by concrete, and sat myself down under a large willow tree, located in the centre of this small patch of lawn. One of the school gardeners had parked his ute close to the tree, and was unloading wooden posts from the back and carrying them away. As I surveyed the scene around me; of the teenagers talking, playing, walking, moving, carrying books and smiling, a tiny voice inside my head called out for something that I could not put my finger on. I waited to hear it call out again, but it did not. The search for what is missing continues. Am I a fool to think that one day there will be answers to all of my questions?

I continued to stare into the distance; past the laughing and the playing, past the green grass of the oval, past the dull beige of the school buildings, I stared so blankly that I felt I was truly seeing the definition of emptiness, it was so –

“Alex, what are you up to?”

A distant voice snapped me out of my trance; I looked up, to find myself face to face with Jess, a pretty girl in my year.

“Umm… just thinking,”

“What are you thinking about silly?” She smiled.

“How horribly I am going to do this year,” I blush as I tell this little white lie.

“Oh shut up Alex you dickhead, you’re going to do better than most and worse only than some.” She smiles, swaying slowly with her hands on her hips.

I manage a half chuckle, a sideways grin, and get to my feet.

“How are you Jess?” I gave her a cuddle, she smelt like fresh roses. She was so warm; I was so cold.

I felt so awkward and out of place, I wanted to take back every word I had just said to her and say something smooth, or witty or funny. My words were so stupid and childish.

“So how was the weekend Jess?”

“I got up to a bit of mischief. Not too much though. It went by way too quickly though.”

I smiled at her attempt to give her weekend of drinking a degree of wit in her explanation.

“What about you Alex?”

I thought about the quiet Friday night in my room, listening to Unknown Pleasures, before drifting off into a Valium induced sleep. The Saturday spent photographing –

“Umm, on Saturday I took some photos, then did some painting for a few hours. I was pretty tired so I didn’t really do much else,”

“Well, if you’re not doing anything this weekend we should hang out or something? See a movie or something, maybe go to the park?”

Jess was a really good-looking girl; she was short but slim, with perfect hips with brown hair and deep blue eyes.

I was a bit taken aback that a girl like this wanted to hang out with me. There was something in her eyes that said seeing a movie or going to the park was not what she wanted to do at all. I thought about her soft lips, the skin on the small of her back, her fingernails dragging against my skin. Her beautiful body was so sensual, just observing the curves in her figure had begun to arouse me. She looked at me straight in the eyes as if she wanted to take off all of my clothes at that very moment.

She smiled, and giggled in a way that girls do when they like a boy.

“What’s you’re number Alex. Are you listening to me?” She bit her lip and moved on her toes. Looking at my quizzically.

She quickly pulled out a pen from her dress pocket then grabbed my hand. Her touch was electric. She looked at me in the eyes again, smiled then wrote her number on the back of my hand.

I gave her a half smile as we locked eyes again. She was still touching my hand, I could smell her hair and the feeling of her skin was so soft. Her lips were parted slightly and she looked to be in a daze as well, she leaned forward and kissed me softly on the cheek. She gave me a small wave as she walked away.

.

I sat back down against the tree and for a split second a tiny glimmer of happiness pushed through the darkness in my heart. Warmth filled my chest; I felt like I had awoken from a long sleep. A smile spread across my face. A small part of me however, managed to push through all the happiness that I felt at this very moment; it was like a dull pain at the back of my chest. Not overwhelming and completely dashing my excitement and cheerfulness, but making itself known to me.

The school bell rang and snapped me out of my daze. I quickly dodged through the crowds of ‘unhappy’ kids; moaning and groaning as they trudged off too class. I quickly dumped my bag into my locker, grabbed a handful of pens, and continued off to English.

“Alex…Alex…Alex?”

The distant voice of Ms. Hearty snapped me out of my daydream. I shifted my focus from staring out the window at the rain outside to her face.

Her pale hideous face.

She gave me a stern look with pursed lips and half closed her eyelids.

“Sorry,” I said in a ‘fuck you’ tone.

A couple of people in the class chuckled at my attempt to make her lose her cool, but she ignored them and me and continued to go off on a tangent about how well she thought one of the students in our class had done in their latest essay.

I let out a sigh and laid my head down on the table in the direction of the window again. As I did this there was a pause in her ramble, I knew she just had rolled her eyes at my behaviour.

As I lay there, watching a couple of birds fly from tree to tree in the soft drizzle of the rain, occasionally hearing the antagonising voice of Ms. Hearty, I thought about Jess.

I couldn’t understand why she would have an interest in me. I had spoken to her several times over the past year, and had always found her interesting enough. She was really good looking though, what could possibly be incredibly interesting about me? I’m not really that fit, I don’t often go out on the weekend, or do sports, but I paint. Maybe she would find that interesting? Girls had told me in the past that they had liked my eyes, maybe Jess could see past them?

Maybe there is something worthwhile about me? I thought.

The idea of having company like hers on the weekend gave my world some colour, excitement; interest. I wanted the weekend to be right now, I wanted to drift through every moment from now until it was a moment with her, I knew it wouldn’t be that hard; because drifting is my forte.

As I had hoped the rest of the week flew by. It was filled with the final year kids preparing for their exams, which began the following week. I was glad that all my exams were next week; some kids had huge gaps and their exam period dragged on for the better, or worse part of the next month.

As usual each day of this week had ended in the same place, beneath the same sheets, with the same Valium chariot that carried me off to sleep. The cold early mornings, and the blur of long school days which all ended like they started; with a cigarette.

When Friday evening came along, I hunted through my room for the piece of paper with her number on it. I put my phone to my ear. I quickly glanced at my watch it was 7.30.

After a couple of rings I heard her voice on the other end.

‘Hell-o?’ There was a happy tone to her voice, music buzzed in the background.

‘Hey Jess, it’s me, Alex.’

‘Oh Alex, how are you? What are you doing at the moment?’

Suddenly everything went pear shaped, I croaked. For some reason my entire interest in this beautiful girl vanished out the window. I felt sick at the thought of spending the evening with her. In a single moment I decided that the awkward silences and the forced conversations that would play out throughout the night if I saw this girl were not worth it. I’m not sure why not, but I had this intense overwhelming desire, just to be alone. I knew that this girl wasn’t right for me; she wasn’t like me. There was something about her I couldn’t quite put my finger on but I didn’t like it. Truth is, I don’t really like myself.

‘Alex, are you there?’

‘Y-Yeah Jess sorry, look I was ringing to tell you that I started a new job tonight, and they want me all weekend, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,’

There was a momentary pause, but when she spoke again she didn’t seem to have lost any of her composure.

‘Oh wow that sounds fantastic, well it sucks that we don’t get too hangout. Give me another call if things change with work and we’ll try and do something?’ I could hear her awkward smile.

‘Yeah,’ I lied ‘I’ll see how the weekend pans out,’

‘Take it easy Alex, and good luck with the new job,’ she said excitedly and sincerely.

‘Thanks, have a nice weekend,’

I waited for her to hang up then put the phone down on my desk.

I didn’t feel upset that I was deliberately giving up the opportunity of spending the night with a beautiful girl that obviously had an interest in me. I didn’t feel anything about throwing away this opportunity because I knew that it would get to a point when I would run out of normal things to say, and I might get comfortable around her, and express my introverted feelings about myself to her. I can vividly picture her jaw dropping, and her eyes faking sympathy, unable to comprehend the intense unhappiness beneath my skin. Perhaps she would try to comfort me and pretend to listen, but she’d really be thinking about where she’d rather be; with her friends. I would not call her again, I would avoid her throughout next week, and that would be the end of it. No looking back.

I didn’t bother touching the pile of schoolbooks that lay ominously on the floor. I kind of had a loose grasp on all my subjects and I didn’t really care about how I did in the exams. I knew I would do reasonably, and I also knew that how well I do in my exams didn’t matter as much as they said it did.

I put a copy of Unknown Pleasures in my stereo, and started to paint a multi-coloured vortex on a large canvas in the corner, as Ian Curtis softly sang the first line of the record, ‘I’m waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand, these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man,’

My brush strokes followed each note.

I like what I do because only a few like what I do; the starving underground artist. I don’t want to paint a pretty portrait or a scenic view. I want to make you feel sick, I want you to look at what I have painted and be confused, shocked; butterflies die in the back of your throat as they rise from the pit of your stomach. Then I want you to turn your head, and look back at the abyss that I have created, and smile at yourself in the reflection.

At about 1am, I went downstairs and made myself a salad sandwich on white bread.

I sat down in the lounge room with my Uncle.

My mother had died giving birth to me. There is no twist to how she died, she simply died as I was born. I had never met my father; about two weeks after my birth he had also died. He died in a car accident on the way home from work one evening. My uncle had told me that he had reached for a cigarette, and lost control, swerving onto the wrong side of the road and collided head on with a semi trailer. My mother and father were both in their early thirties when they died.

The month around my birth was filled with death, grief and sorrow. I wasn’t exactly born during the best circumstances, perhaps that’s why I am this way; the grim from the grim.

My Uncle had humbly stepped forward to look after me, almost immediately after my mother’s death. He had raised me as his own son, and I look on to him as my own father.

My Uncle is a short man, he has olive skin, unlike me, but our eyes are surely the same; pensive and blue.

My uncle worked at a high school closer to Melbourne, we lived in a small suburb about an hour or so drive from the city. He was sipping a beer and zoning out to the television when I walked in with my sandwich.

‘Alexander,’ he said in the same tone that someone would say hello.

‘Hey James, can’t you sleep?’ I returned to him in a friendly tone.

‘I’m just like you Alex, I can but I simply choose not too,’

I gave a half smile in agreement. I looked down at my dirty shoes, I must have stepped in mud.

‘Is your weekend full of excitement?’ I said to him as I sat down in the armchair beside him.

‘Unfortunately no it is not. These fucking year twelves have all decided that its their last year at school and at the business end of the year there is a shit load of work to mark,’

My Uncle is an English teacher.

‘What about you my boy, why are you at home at 1am on a Friday night?’ He took a sip from the bottle of Budweiser. Marcus had told me a joke the other week;

What’s something similar about American beer and having sex in a boat?

It’s fucking close to water.

’You know me James, it’s ‘the business end of year twelve,’ and I’m studying very hard,’ I said in a patronizing voice.

‘Yeah bullshit,’ he replied with a laugh.

‘I’m interested to see these exam results in a months time,’ he added.

‘They will be nothing short of brilliant,’ I said with feigned pride, puffing out my chest sarcastically.

‘Yeah, and I’m going to get this fucking pile of marking done by tomorrow morning,’ he said sarcastically.

We both looked at each other and laughed. My uncle handed me a beer.

I held the cold bottle in my hand. The moisture stuck to my palm.

‘It’s fucking close to water,’ I said out loud with a small smile on my face.

‘What?’ My Uncle said curiously.

‘Nothing,’ I said with a wink. I put a cigarette to my lips and lit it.

We both smoked inside, he had half heartedly nagged me at first when I started smoking, but now that I was eighteen his protests about me ‘never being able to quit,’ had abruptly stopped. However he still reminded me sometimes that cigarettes had indeed killed my father, just not in the conventional sense that cigarettes kill people. I had argued that a lack of concentration for a split second had killed my father. Either way it was tragically and almost comically ironic.

My uncle and me had a strange relationship. It was like he was my father, and a close friend at the same time. It allowed me to have conversations with him that many boys would not be able to have with their fathers.

‘So when are you going to start this marking you’re being so bitter about?’ I said.

‘In about another 3 beers or so I guess?’ He paused.

‘This marking isn’t the important issue though?’ He spoke softly with a grin, he looked at me with a cheeky twinkle in his eye.

‘What is then?’ I asked him blankly.

‘When are you going to start studying for the five exams you have next week?’

‘Well that’s simple, I’m not,’

My uncle understood how my mind worked, and he knew that my intense understanding and minimal effort in most areas at school had on average; resulted in marks way above average.

‘You’ll do alright Alex,’

I glanced at the T.V.

‘What are you watching anyway?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I tuned out well before you walked into the room, all I know is that it’s some weird German film on SBS about a strange kid,’

‘Hmmm, sounds like you know what’s going on,’ I reply.

‘Fuck you’, he said with a laugh.

‘So besides the hours and hours of homework your going to do, what else are you getting up to this weekend?’ his voice was riddled with Swiss-cheese holes of sarcasm.

I decided to leave out the subject of Jess; I don’t think it’s an issue even worth mentioning in passing conversation.

‘Well I started working on a painting earlier tonight, so I will probs do bits and pieces on that, and then probably re-read my English book for school,’

My uncle nodded with a half smile on his face.

I crushed my cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table, and finished the dregs of the beer.

My Uncle laughed as I stood to my feet with a disgusted expression on my face.

‘The last sip is always fucking vile,’ he said.

‘Anyways James, I’m heading back to my room. I might try and go to sleep in the next couple of hours. Try and get some sleep before the sun comes up,’

‘Nah mate, I’m not going to start this bloody marking until the sun comes up. Sleep tight bud,’

He gave me the thumbs up and sat back in his chair, sipping his beer. His eyes glazed over as he zoned out again in front of the television.

I made my way into my room. I had a few more cigarettes as I re-read my novel we I was studying for school until finally, sometime after four in the morning I passed out.