A New Life - 12. Chapter 12: Crazy

Blake was feeling cautiously optimistic as he arrived at work on Friday. He’d gone to bed the night before with a sense of dread for the coming morning, but that had so far proved unwarranted. He had managed to go about his morning routine in pretty much the same way as the day before, barely noticing the absence of the medication. Perhaps he really didn’t need it after all?

He made a beeline for Nats who greeted him with her typical enthusiasm before launching into a tirade about a friend of hers who she was ‘sort of’ fighting with. He listened politely, but started to get the vague feeling he was missing something. Was that just Nats and her tendency to leave out details? Or was his memory to blame? There did seem to be gaps whenever he tried to recollect something that had happened over the last week, but maybe he was imagining this? Maybe he just wanted to feel different now he’d quit the meds?

It wasn’t really until Nats started vigorously acting out a scene from her story that he first noticed a clear difference. Something about her antics, her voice or maybe it was the story itself, set a warm sensation in motion that burst forth from his chest as laughter. This only served to encourage her further and soon she had him laughing until he felt his whole body shake, sending pleasurable shivers up the back of his neck and even bringing a slight tear to his eye.

Although he could remember laughing like this before, on plenty of occasions, the sensations felt strangely unfamiliar, as if he were somehow out of practice. It was a magnificent feeling though and he wondered then why on earth he would want to take something to mute such feelings. Why bother living if you couldn’t feel like this?

As the day wore on he noticed that his emotions were heightened and his mood seemed to climb higher and higher. It was another glorious day out on the water and there was plenty to be happy about, but yesterday had been roughly the same and yet somehow completely different. Today the world seemed full of colour and fascination where before everything had been gray and dull. His senses were alive and he found humour and beauty in almost everything around him. He practically bounced around on the deck, exhibiting a level of playful cheer that even had Nats scratching her head at him.

Of course, if he’d bothered to think about it, such a state of affairs was completely unsustainable. The eventual crash was as dramatic as it was sudden. Sometime after what had seemed like the best dives of his life, he was trying to decide what to eat from the lunch buffet when things suddenly took a turn for the worse.

It started as a voice inside his head. Not really a speaking kind of voice, more a feeling, but a feeling with presence and distinctiveness, somehow separate from the rest of him. He felt the need to look over his shoulder to check. As if someone had actually whispered something in his ear, it felt that real, that ‘other’.

When he turned back to the table he again surveyed the food, but now none of it seemed eatable. He really shouldn’t be eating any of this, it would make him fat.

Involuntarily a hand moved to his stomach.

You are fat.

He whipped his head around again, looking vainly for whoever had just said that. But of course, there was no one there.

He hadn’t thought about his weight in days and all of a sudden he felt a sick anxious kind of sinking feeling. As if he’d just remembered he had an exam on tomorrow and hadn’t even started studying for it yet. How could he have forgotten? What had he been doing for the last week? What had he been eating? He couldn’t even remember.

Again these feelings weren’t new. He’d been through this scenario a million times before, just not recently. He was a bit out of practice.

The next stage in the process involved the ‘managers’ asserting themselves. Still other parts of his mind, who sought to take over and manage away bad feelings through control and ritual. They worked as a team, or perhaps more like a gang. There always seemed to be more than one of them, anyway, but they nearly always moved together.

Their initial focus was, as usual, inward and abruptly Blake no longer felt comfortable in his own skin. He tried to stand straighter, to hold his stomach firmer, to angle his chest in that way he recalled made him look less disgusting whenever he practiced it in front of the mirror. If he’d been asked to stand ‘normally’ now he couldn’t have complied, even if ordered to do so at gunpoint. With the ‘managers’ firmly in control he no longer remembered how he had been standing before, even just a few minutes ago. He was rigid and on edge, aware of every muscle in his body, from the position of his feet on the ground, to his arms by his sides, to the angle of his chin. He needed to stand the right way. Was he standing the right way?

Next came the outward ‘managing’, the strong desire to ‘check’. Intuition told him that if only he checked, just quickly, he would feel better, but he knew that wasn’t true. Even out of practice as he was he knew checking to make sure he was standing the right way wouldn’t work in practice. If he went looking for the mirror in the cabin he knew it would only get worse. Yet still he felt drawn to reflective surfaces and all of a sudden they seemed to be everywhere. Glass windows of the boat, the glassware on the table, even those annoying mirrored sunglasses he had grown to hate so much. They all called to him, promising the opportunity for just a little check and the ‘good’ feeling that went with that.

But he refused, and so instead his mind drifted towards ‘comparing’. This was another form of outward managing, just as futile as checking, but harder to avoid. It had been another fairly quiet day at the dive shop, but there were four American guys on board that looked to be fresh out of university. He hadn’t seemed to notice their bodies before, but now it was all he could think about. How did he rate compared to them? Was he taller or shorter? Fatter or thinner? Fitter or weaker? Unless completely baseless the answer was usually: they are better than you are. Far from managing his anxiety away, this would only make him feel worse.

By this stage the ‘managers’ became more frantic as they failed to control the anxiety and then right on time the ‘inner critic’ would get its voice back. Now he could hear actual words. A whisper, whispering poison. Nothing he hadn’t heard before, but again he felt a little caught off guard by the apparent unfamiliarly of the voice. The inner critic told him exactly what he feared. It always did. Right now, it told him that he was disgusting, by far the worst on the boat. He was fat, repulsive, crazy. A freak.

Blake began to tremble now, this too familiar and yet not familiar. The beginnings of a panic attack. He knew he had to get away so he made his way to the front of the boat, abandoning the rest of the crew to do the cleaning up. It was here, alone with his increasingly manic and negative thoughts that he found himself asking the question:

‘What am I going to do? What am I going to do?’

But then he remembered the answers. He knew all sorts of things to do. He had learned many techniques to handle these situations over years of psychotherapy. Techniques that didn’t involve drugs. He’d just gotten out of practice. Moving here had mucked up his routine.

For example, when other parts of his mind seemed separate, dissociated from the rest, his psych had taught him to go into ‘watcher’ mode. He would close his eyes and imagined himself as a sort of detached observer. Instead of trying to fight against or surrender to these parts, he just watched them. As if he was a biologist, observing animals in the wild. He would take note of what they did. Ask himself questions. Where is this part? What colour is it? What does it look like? Does it speak and if so what’s the voice like? What feelings and sensations accompany it? What thoughts accompany it?

More often than not the process of ‘watching’ these parts would stop them, make them go away. They weren’t really there anyway and trying to nail down exact details about them seemed to prove this. Gradually they would fade and vanish.

However, sometimes an inwardly focused technique like this would prove the wrong tactic. Sometimes, when his emotions overwhelmed him or when his thoughts were obsessively spiralling out of control it was better to get out of his head entirely. This is when he might use the tapping technique. Rather than remain trapped in his mind, divorced from reality, he would try to get back to reality, back to the here and now. He would tap through his fingers repetitively, sometimes accompanying this rhythmic activity with words, spoken out loud. The process required a level of focus and presence that drew him away from his thoughts and emotions and back to the here and now, back to the real world.

Still other times it wouldn’t be his mind, but his body that was acting up. Sometimes, when anxiety had built to the point of panic and his body slipped into ‘flight mode’, it would seem beyond his ability to calm down, to stop shaking, to regain control. At times like this he would use a breathing technique. He would focus on slowing and deepening his breathing. Slow breath in, slower breath out. Breathing, his psych had taught him, was both an automatic and a controlled aspect of human physiology. It could be thought of as the point at which body and mind meet. By taking breathing away from the automatic, away from the body, he could regain control via the mind.

Away from the others, Blake ran through various techniques until slowly, but steadily he began to feel better again. It was then that he felt, for the first time in a long while, that he really could cope. Cope without the medication that was.

It would be harder of course. The techniques required effort and practice. But more than that, they required a level of vigilance. Slipping into negative thoughts or bad states was easy. In a way they felt ‘better’ although it wasn’t really ‘better’ just more familiar, more natural. Like cooking a new meal or taking a different route home, the techniques required him to be mindful, to fight his automatic tendencies and habits and to actively choose a different path.

Feeling better, he thought back on the morning’s events and decided that the ‘high’ he’d been feeling earlier had probably been a side effect of stopping the medication so suddenly. Under the direction of his psych he wouldn’t have started and stopped psychoactive drugs so dramatically. He really wasn’t a doctor and he knew he shouldn’t be using the drugs without direction. Likewise, the dramatic mood shifts just now were probably also a side effect. Everything would settle out, he told himself. He had the tools he needed. He just had to actually use them.

Having resolved all of this, Blake felt better for the rest of that afternoon, though still a little shaky at times. He rejoined the crew and found that helping out kept him busy and got him through the day. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice his little freak out, or if they did, they didn’t say anything.

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully and it wasn’t until much later that night that his anxiety played up again.

After finishing dinner he started to cleanup by gathering rubbish from the kitchen bench when a cream coloured envelope fell to the floor at his feet. It had slipped out from amongst the junk mail he was throwing away. Somehow he hadn’t noticed it before. He leaned over and picked it up, noting his name in fancy scrawl across the front. There was no stamp, so it must have been hand delivered.

He opened the envelope and pulled out a folded card, the same cream colour as the envelope, but made of a thicker paper, with a visible weave. In fancy glossy black letters it read:

You are cordially invited to:

Mrs Herrington’s Annual Christmas Social

He immediately noticed a rising sense of dread and anxiety that began inside his chest and seemed to travel up to his throat.

Just what he didn’t need, he thought to himself. A large social gathering. The bane of every anxiety sufferer’s existence.

It was for the Sunday after next, from noon at the resort’s ‘banquet hall’. It didn’t help that the invitation made the event sound more like a formal wedding reception than a Christmas lunch. It even had a dress code: ‘smart casual’. Also, a RSVP mobile number to text.

Blake began to imagine what the party might be like, but before he could get too carried away with this his thoughts turned to Haze. Had Haze invited him or had it been Mrs Herrington? The idea that Haze would invite him to something gave him a warm pleasurable glow. But maybe it had been Mrs Herrington? She certainly seemed to like him better than Haze did at the moment. Maybe Haze didn’t even know? Maybe Haze wouldn’t want him there if it were up to him?

The warm glow dissolved into anxiety once more. He had managed to avoid thinking about Haze for most of the day, but now it was unavoidable. He wondered whether Haze would be at work tomorrow and if so, what it would be like to talk to him. Would Haze even want to talk to him? They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms yesterday. Did they have a fight? Thinking back, Blake found that he wasn’t sure. Yesterday seemed a blur compared to the clarity of today. He had kind of shouted at Haze, but Haze hadn’t really gotten angry. He’d been too introverted to be angry.

A part of Blake felt that he deserved attention from Haze now. After all, he had done what Haze had asked him to do. He had quit the medication. Except Haze hadn’t really asked him to do that, he didn’t even know Blake was taking medication. Would Haze be able to tell anything was different?

Blake sighed, and lowered the invitation to the bench. He simply had no idea what Haze would be like tomorrow. Maybe he could use the invitation as a way to start a conversation? He could ask Haze directly if he had invited him.

Then he decided to stop being premature about all this. It was better to wait and see if Haze was speaking to him at all first.

****

The next morning, Blake found it much more difficult to struggle through his chores. He guessed that he’d still been feeling some leftover effects of the medication yesterday, whereas today it had well and truly worn off.

It wasn’t just difficult to do the usual things like decide what to wear and avoid the mirrors, he also felt consumed by a generalised sense of anxiety. Overwhelmingly the anxiety was stoked by the anticipation of seeing Haze. He wasn’t entirely sure Haze would actually be at work today, but the possibility of seeing him was enough.

By the time he arrived at the shop he was a fumbling bundle of nerves. So, it was terribly anti-climactic when Jill greeted him and then promptly announced she was giving everyone the day off. Apparently, there weren’t enough tourists booked for diving. She had managed to catch Vicky and Matt on the phone before they left home, but Blake had left too early.

He noticed that she didn’t mentioned anything about Haze, so he asked her where Haze was, trying his best to sound casual about it. She told him that he had the weekend off, to help his mother prepare for her annual Christmas party again. Blake was pretty sure she hadn’t mentioned the reason for Haze’s absence last week, but he wasn’t entirely certain. Maybe he had been too drugged out to have picked up on that point? It was hard to recall what happened a week ago.

Jill seemed to feel guilty for Blake turning up all ready to work, so she gave him a couple of hour’s inventory to do before sending him home early.

While they worked together she explained that the dive shop was going to be getting quieter over the next few weeks, and there would probably be more days like this. Despite Kulibari Bay’s designation as a holiday town, it tended to get a lot quieter the closer it got to Christmas. Partly this was because of the weather, the December/January summer period was uncomfortably hot and often unbearably humid. Not to mention it was the peak of the cyclone season.

The other reason, she explained, was to do with the reef’s macro-fauna. The really big animals, the whale sharks, manta rays, whales and bigger fish tended to move south during the summer, looking for richer feeding grounds. Serious divers considered the summer months to be ‘off season’ for spotting the larger wildlife.

The town ran on a skeleton staff basis over the Christmas holidays as most people went home to spend time with their families. There would be a few people holidaying here over Christmas, but generally they would have small kids and weren’t interested in diving.

Jill suggested that Blake might want to think about heading home to Sydney for the holidays and he was careful to be non-committal about that. He had no intention of going back of course, but he didn’t want her wondering why that was, so he just grunted in response.

He was home by eleven o’clock and with nothing else planned he decided to clean his home, an activity that usually made him feel calmer, more in control. However, his new home was mostly clean anyway, so he was soon finished with that and grew bored.

Shortly after one o’clock he found himself sitting on the couch staring blankly at the wall, wondering what he was going to do for the rest of the day. He had just decided to maybe checkout the beach when the silence of the room was broken by a loud, insistent knocking at his front door.

A sense of wary trepidation crept over him as he wondered who it could be. Who even knew where he lived?

He fumbled with the deadlock and opened the door just a crack, astonished to see that it was Haze standing there, right on his doorstep. Blake was so shocked that he nearly shut the door again, acting on instinct. But he could tell Haze had noticed the door move and so instead he tried to regain his composure through a steadying breath and then he swung the door open.

Unfortunately, his brain hadn’t thought past this point so he just stood there wide-eyed and gaping at Haze. He was too stunned even to think of saying ‘hello’, but Haze’s voice quickly filled the silence between them.

“Whatcha doin today?” he asked through gasping breaths, a strange sense of urgency to his voice.

Blake noticed that Haze was panting as if he’d just run the whole way to get here. His shoulders moved with the exertion of heaving lungs. Sweat beads formed across his features and his cheeks were slightly reddened. There was a trickle of sweat at his temples and several damp stray locks of his curly brown-blonde hair seemed stuck to his face. He had an almost wild look to his intense blue eyes.

“N-Nothing,” Blake stuttered nervously, too surprised to give anything other than an honest answer.

“Good. Wanna do sumthin together?”

Now there was an equally strange sort of pleading look to his beautiful blue eyes. Blake could not have refused that look, even if he wanted to.

“S-sure,” he responded, feeling a pleasurable rush run through him as his mind lingered over the word ‘together’.

He and Haze, doing something together! He couldn’t believe Haze was here, let alone asking to hang out with him. It was a mind-blowing turn of events and all of a sudden he felt too shy to do anything other than look at his feet and babble incoherently.

“Where ... wha ... do I ... are we ...” he fumbled for a bit before deciding on a question. “Do I need anything?”

“No, let’s go now,” Haze responded, but then he stopped, and looked Blake up and down as if only just seeing him for the first time. “Actually, you might wanna get outta the uniform?”

Blake looked down at his work polo and then back up at Haze, feeling embarrassed and self-conscious. Haze was wearing a very light, almost see-through, off-white t-shit, oversized and baggy with a large, low-cut neckline. A black leather band adorned the tanned skin of his neck, its shark-tooth pendant resting at the collarbone. Below that Blake could see clearly the definition of his upper chest and just a hint of hair trailing between his pecks until it vanished beneath the garment. He was wearing pale blue board shirts, also baggy and a pair of low cut, dirty-white sandshoes, without socks. Blake found him a breathtaking sight, as usual.

“Yeah ... sure ... okay.” He stammered, feeling completely inadequate in Haze’s presence. He quickly motioned for Haze to come inside and then headed for his bedroom, eager to be out of his daggy clothes.

“Actually bring a hat. Put on sunscreen. Maybe bring some sunnies too.” Haze hollered over at Blake’s retreating form. He seemed be to saying these things as they occurred to him. Blake didn’t get the feeling there was much of a plan here.

He went to his bedroom to change, closing the door behind him. The idea of Haze, here in his own home ran riot around his head, making it even more difficult than usual to decide what he was going to wear. There wasn’t a mirror in his bedroom, so he couldn’t check his appearance, but he decided that this was probably for the best. He was determined not to let his crazy mental problems ruin a chance to hang out with Haze.

Luckily, only an hour ago out of boredom, he’d been trying on the new clothes bought during his shopping trip earlier that week. So, he picked out his favourites from those, telling himself he didn’t need to check as he was already comfortable with how they looked. Red t-shirt, with some kind of black print and a pair of gray shorts. No time for accessories or to check his hair, he didn’t have time for an anxious freak out.

Having dressed himself Blake nervously opened his bedroom door just a touch so he could spy on Haze. The young man was standing in the doorway. He didn’t seem comfortable enough to come any further inside. Or maybe he was just impatient to be leaving? He did appear to be in an agitated state, almost nervous even. At least he wasn’t being introverted, thought Blake, although he wasn’t yet sure whether Haze was being real either. He was certainly expressive which was a good sign, but he wasn’t exactly friendly or smiling.

After a brief moment, Blake pushed his way out of the bedroom, trying to look nonchalant as he collected his things from the table and stuffed them into pockets. He then locked up the house and turned to see that Haze was already on the street, standing next to a beat-up looking ute that was parked out the front.

Haze climbed into the driver’s side without any explanation, so Blake followed suit, hurrying to catch up. His mind was abuzz with ideas about where they might be going, but he felt too nervous to ask. He couldn’t believe this was happening and at least part of him thought it must be a mistake. He worried that Haze might be about to change his mind at any moment, realise that he hadn’t meant to invite Blake anywhere and then ask him to leave. So, Blake decided to keep quiet, just in case asking the wrong question could ruin the moment. He knew he was prone to ruining the moment when it came to Haze.

Anyway, it didn’t matter where they were going, he reasoned. The fact was he had nothing else to do and he would leap at the chance to do just about anything if Haze was involved.

They drove the short distance to the mall, pulling up in the car park on the side furthest from the dive shop’s entrance. Haze parked the ute next to a row of quad bikes, swiftly killing the engine before climbing out of the ute, again without explanation.

Blake climbed out too, watching as Haze dashed into a nearby garage. He quickly tried to follow, but before he could get halfway there Haze was walking back towards him again with large, determined strides. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and was holding two helmets of some kind, one in either hand.

“Here,” he said, tossing one to Blake. “Put this on.”

Blake looked down dumbly at the heavy, white helmet and then watched as Haze climbed onto the nearest quad bike. He kicked down savagely and the bike rumbled noisily to life. He then backed it out from the row of other bikes and onto the gravel of the car park, before jumping down from it, leaving the motor running.

“You take that one,” he said, walking straight past Blake, but then stopping after he seemed to notice the look on Blake’s face. “What? Ya know how to ride a bike dontcha?”

Blake looked over at the strange vehicle. He could drive a car, an automatic at least anyway. Was this thing like a car? It looked more like a tractor. It had four huge black tires, larger than a truck’s but only a small bench to sit on. There were complicated looking dials and buttons around the handlebars. He quickly decided it didn’t look like the sort of thing you could just drive without knowing how.

A deeps sense of shame washed over him as he lowered his eyes, bit his lip and shook his head ‘no’. He felt like he was fucking things up again and felt even worse when he heard Haze give a frustrated sigh. Dark thoughts began to circle his obsessive mind and he glanced up expecting to see the worse.

Haze was glancing around, seeming to think as his head darted around almost frantically.

“We can share,” he then announced abruptly, before adding “I can show ya how and next time you can drive ya own.”

Blake nodded mutely. He felt too ashamed to do anything other than agree with Haze. He began to curse at himself mentally for being so useless, considering it lucky that Haze hadn’t sent him home.

Preoccupied with dwelling over his inadequacies, it didn’t really occur to Blake what ‘sharing’ meant. That was until he saw Haze climb onto the bike and pat at the space behind him on the bike’s single seat.

“Come on, put ya helmet on,” Haze instructed. “Get on the back.”

Blake’s eyes flew wide and his brain promptly blew a fuse. He was paralysed. It was all he could do to remain standing.

Haze wanted him to sit where?!

“Come on!” Haze encouraged, patting the seat again.

With a huge amount of effort Blake managed to slowly put one foot in front of the other and stagger across the gravel of the car park and over to the bike. He began to feel himself shake with anxiety as he approached.

“Put your foot there,” Haze told him, pointing to the top of the black tire. “Grab onto this and sit behind me.”

Shakily Blake managed to do as he was told, careful to keep space between them. Once he had hauled himself up and was straddling the bike with his legs, his feet fell to the rear footrests naturally, but he had no idea what to do with his arms. They hung uselessly at his sides as his eyes darted around looking for something to hold onto. He felt grateful that bike was shaking so much as it disguised his own uncontrollable trembling.

“Hold on!” Haze shouted over his shoulder.

The bike sprang into life and before Blake had a chance to think about it, his arms were reaching out instinctively and grabbing hold of Haze around the waist. He slipped down the back of the slightly u-shaped seat until his groin rested snugly against Haze’s backside, his knees falling to either side of Haze’s thighs.

Blake never imagined he’d be getting this close to the guy he’d been secretly lusting after for the last couple of weeks, but there was no time to think about that as Haze headed straight for what looked like a wall of dirt and rocks at the far end of the car park. Haze didn’t seem to be turning and Blake felt like screaming at him to ‘stop’, but instead he just closed his eyes and held on as Haze drove the bike straight up the side of the rocky hill without stopping.

The bike vibrated noisily and jerked unexpectedly from side to side as it traversed the rough terrain. Blake was too terrified to feel embarrassed, shamelessly clinging to Haze for dear life. He wrapped his arms around him in bear hug, giving an extra squeeze whenever they went over a particularly rough bump. He couldn’t hear much, but he was pressed so tight against Haze’s back that he could feel the other boy chuckling whenever he did this.

After what seemed like a very long time to Blake, but was probably only a few minutes, he began to relax a bit. Although it seemed like the bike was about to tip over at any moment, Blake started to realise that it was actually quite stable. He felt comfortable enough to open his eyes and look over Haze’s shoulder as they drove up what appeared to be another steep sand dune and then down the equally steep slope of the other side.

With his eyes opened now and no longer fearing for his life, it began to occur to Blake just how close he was to Haze. His entire front was pressed right up against Haze’s back and despite the noise and the shaking he couldn’t help but notice the intimacy of the situation.

He found his mind had trouble deciding what to focus on. Half the time he was busy peering at the alarming terrain in front of them, fearfully watching for signs of the next bump or jerk that could send him flying. The other half of the time all he could think about was the feel of Haze’s taunt muscular torso as it flexed and moved between them, their bodies separated only by thin layers of fabric.

Blake wasn’t sure how long they had been driving like this when finally he felt the engine kick into a lower gear and then the bike slowed and came to a stop. Haze switched off the engine, plunging them into a silence broken only by the leftover ringing in Blake’s ears.

“Howzat?” he shouted over his shoulder, a mischievous twinkle to his eye.

“Wow,” was all Blake could manage to croak as he fumbled for something else to say.

It had been a ‘thrilling’ ride, he supposed. Some people, non-anxious people, might even think it was fun. Maybe even he could find it fun, once he found wherever he’d left the contents of his stomach.

Between the angle of their bodies and the bulk of the helmets, Blake couldn’t see much of Haze’s face. However, when he felt and heard the other boy laughing loudly he knew that he was in the presence of real Haze again and it made his face flush with delight.

Finally, real Haze was back, he thought to himself. Real Haze was right here with him. He was holding real Haze actually. Arms lower now, wrapped around real Haze’s flat stomach. Groin pressed up against real Haze’s tight butt. Knees wrapped around real Haze’s delicious ...

Blake felt a stirring sensation in his pants and practically shoved at Haze to get away from him. He stumbled down from the bike, backing away from the other young man with a guilty fearful expression on his face.

Did Haze feel that? Did he know?

Haze was looking at him. It was a strange kind of look, his eyebrows knitted, slight frown to his face. He seemed almost sad. Hurt even. But, he was probably just wondering why Blake was acting like a freak.

‘You’ve fucked it up again’ the inner critic accused him inside his head. Blake looked for confirmation of this, but the moment had seemed to pass. Haze was now distracted with taking off his helmet and fiddling with the bike.

Blake took the opportunity to look around them so as to figure out where they were exactly. Apparently they were nowhere. There was lots of sand and dirt and rocks, the occasional thorny scrub and more sand and rocks. That was it so far as he could tell. He spun around on the spot, but it was the same in every direction. Some kind of sand dune valley was the best he could figure.

“It’s called the outback,” Haze said.

Blake looked back at him and was reassured to see the sad expression was now gone, replaced instead by a strange sort of smile. Blake found himself smiling back. Haze was still being real Haze at least and it made his insides twist in a terrible, yet strangely pleasurable way.

“Where are we?” he asked, more to release the nervous energy he felt building between them than to know the answer to his question.

“I’ll show ya,” Haze said, lifting the backpack out from where it’d been stowed underneath the seat of the bike. “Gimme ya helmet.”

Blake, realising he was still wearing his helmet, quickly undid the strap and removed it, handing it to Haze who stowed it in a compartment underneath the seat of the bike. Haze then swung the backpack over his shoulder and headed off towards the nearest sand dune. He turned around, walking backwards for a bit so as to wave at Blake to follow. Then he turned back and began to run up the side of the dune.

Blake followed, noticing how difficult it was to stop his feet from sinking and sliding backwards down the soft orangey-yellow sand. The dune wasn’t all that steep, but the way the sand collapsed beneath him made him stumble and sink backwards with every step forward. He copied Haze and tried to break into a run, but it was still slow going. The dune didn’t look all that big, but out here it was hard to get a sense of proportion. It was probably as tall as a five-story building all up; massive. By the time they’d climbed to the top Blake found himself panting with exertion.

He’d kept his eyes on his feet as he climbed and now they were at the top, he stopped at Haze’s side and looked up to admire the view. It really was nothing like he had seen anywhere else in the world. In front of them the sand dunes disappeared after a distance, replaced by the still blue ocean which extended until the horizon. Behind them there was just desert, endlessly, as far as he could see. There must have been a million sand dunes just like the one they were on now, stretching off a vast distance towards a foggy horizon of shimmering heat.

To their left, almost out of sight was a noticeable patch of greenery and buildings, which broke the otherwise uniform landscape. From here, Kulibari Bay seemed like it was, literally an oasis in the desert, the only patch of colour and shapes visible amongst the featureless expanse all around them.

When Blake had finally finished surveying the view he looked back at Haze and noticed that the other boy was watching him. That strange, inscrutable smile was back on his face again.

“You like?” he asked, sounding a little pleased with himself.

“Yeah, it’s ... wow.” Blake responded a little breathlessly.

He was awestruck, but his mind was reeling from more than just the view. It was also the craziness of the whole situation that was getting to him. It seemed like only a short while ago he was sitting on his couch with nothing to do, wondering whether Haze would ever speak to him again. Now he was out here, looking at all this, Haze right at his side, real Haze no less. He still wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he was pretty pleased that it was happening all the same.

Seeming satisfied with his reaction, Haze dropped to the sand, sitting cross-legged. He tucked his shaggy locks behind each ear and began to rifle through the bag. Next, he produced two bottles of chilled water and a couple of sandwiches, tossing one of each to Blake.

Blake felt himself blush. Had Haze made them a picnic?

“It’s the shop’s food ...” Haze explained, seeming to notice the look Blake was giving him. “Jill said I could take it. It gets delivered every day. Gets chucked if it’s not eaten.”

This information should’ve made the gesture seem less special, but somehow it had just the opposite effect. Blake felt the need to change the subject quickly, before the strange emotions he was feeling threatened to overwhelm him.

“Where are we?” he asked, sitting down next to Haze a little sheepishly. He tucked into his sandwich just as Haze was doing.

“This is my special spot.” Haze told him after swallowing a mouthful.

“This is where I come to ...” he trailed off for a moment, his face darkening, the food momentarily forgotten. “To get away. To be alone.” He paused after that, but a second later he lifted the sandwich to his mouth and resumed his brisk eating pace.

“It’s amazing,” Blake told him honestly.

When he’d finished scanning across the entire horizon for a second time he noticed Haze was watching him again. The same inscrutable smile was on his face yet again. It made Blake uncomfortable and he found that he had to look away.

“What?” he asked, the words spilling from his mouth. He didn’t mean to say anything out loud, but the shyness forced it from him.

“Somethin’s different about yatoday,” Haze noted, cocking his head slightly and scrutinizing Blake.

“Yeah?” Blake responded a little sheepishly. He felt nervous at the attention, but also delighted that Haze had noticed.

“Whazz up?”

“S-sorry?” he stuttered, feeling flustered and under the microscope. While happy Haze had noticed, Blake wasn’t expecting to be asked to explain it.

“Whazz different about you?”

Blake felt his cheeks colour with embarrassment. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, just overwhelming. He wasn’t sure if Haze’s attention was good or whether it was about to make him panic.

How he was going to answer this?

“Guess I’m in a good mood,” he tried evasively.

“Nah, that’s not it,” Haze said. “Somethin else, somethin’s different aboutcha.”

“I dunno!” Blake exclaimed, starting to get more and more uncomfortable. “Guess I’m just a different person today.”

“Oh so you got like a multiple personality disorder huh?” Haze joked.

Blake felt another rush of anxiety flow through him. He knew it was dangerous for the conversation to go down this path, but he mulled over the possibility all the same. Maybe he could test the waters of this topic? Just a bit?

“T-That’s such a stereotype, you know. Disassociated parts are rarely so separated that they become their own identity. ‘Alters’ is the proper term, not ‘personalities’. People who actually have alters are so rare that there is some controversy as to whether disassociated identity disorder ... er ... multiple personality disorder that is, actually exists at all.”

Blake risked a glance over at Haze. His smile had vanished, but he seemed to be listening intensely. He appeared interested and didn’t seem put-off by the topic of psychology, so Blake turned back to his sandwich, picking at it nervously as he continued.

“But alters are at the extreme end of the scale, that’s why they are rare. At the other end are moods. Everyone gets moods, happy mood, sad mood, you know. Moods aren’t just a feeling, but feelings of a type happen when you’re in a mood. Moods last longer than just the feelings that go on in them, sometimes for hours sometimes for days. They affect what you feel, but also the way you see things. Things that happen, people around you ... the world in general and how you interact with it. Surely you’ve been in a bad mood before? Where everything seems horrible and you feel bad no matter what happens?”

Haze nodded slowly, cautiously, an unreadable expression on his face. He looked to be a little uncomfortable, but was paying attention all the same. Blake figured that if he was going to do this, he had better get to the point, quickly.

“Somewhere in between alters and moods are ‘states’. States are a bit more than a mood, because they have behavioural patterns attached, but they generally have a mood associated with them too and feelings. So like, for example, a person...” he trailed off, suddenly finding his throat a little dry.

Could he really do this?

“ ... s-so a person might be, say, p-prone to anxiety ... t-to such a level that they might get into an ‘anxious state’. More than feeling anxious now they may have ingrained patterns of behaviour to go with that mood. So, they might ... um ... always be looking over their shoulder, paranoid, or maybe ... m-maybe they feel the need to check ... to c-check to see if something was wrong with the ...” his breath hitched a bit, but he swallowed and continued, “... with the way they look ... or something. Maybe.”

Again he checked for a reaction from Haze and again he found the other boy to be inscrutable, but attentive.

“The mood and the behaviour reinforce each other so the person can be completely ‘trapped’ by the state, even though they aren’t actually a different person. They know its happening. It’s not like some other personality is taking over them, it’s still them, but they think and feel so different it can be hard to remember properly afterwards, hard to control. To others it might seem like they are a d-different kind of person. You know? Or it might not. Maybe they can keep it hidden and it only goes on inside their own head.”

Haze’s expression had gone from inscrutable to something else. Suspicious? He’d narrowed his eyes and suddenly Blake felt he had said too much. He needed to back track. This was a mistake.

“Doesn’t have to be only anxiety, you know,” he tried fumbling for a way of diverting attention from his own problems. “It can be ... um ... fear. Say a car accident could cause someone who gets into a car to go into a fearful state of panic.”

Not panic! Why are you bringing up that, he berated himself. That was way too close too.

“Um ... I mean it could be ... another emotion like ...” he trailed off, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Anger?”

“Yeah sure,” Blake breathed easier, happy Haze was at least trying to contribute and pretend to be okay with this. “People can get into angry states, become full of rage and anger. Not just a temper, I mean they could get violent or ... or loud or aggressive or something. Become like a different person that way.”

Blake glanced over at Haze again, but for the first time he was looking pointedly the other way. He didn’t seem interested in pretending to be comfortable with this conversation anymore. Blake felt his heart sink. This had been a bad idea. Why did he think Haze would want to hear about his crazy psycho-babble crap? He was a fool for saying anything. Haze wasn’t interested in his mental problems. Haze didn’t care.

Forlorn, Blake looked down at his half eaten sandwich. It didn’t even occur to him before, but the sandwich was made of white refined bread and the filling consisted of cheese and processed meet with what looked like a sugary tomato sauce. It definitely wasn’t the sort of food he’d normally be caught dead with, but since Haze had given it to him, he was going to eat it.

Then he looked a little closer and noticed the rugged uneven sized slices of meat, the rough clumps of cheese. There was no way this had been made by the same place that delivered the shop’s food.

He glanced over at Haze again, who’d finished his sandwich now and was sitting up with his arms wrapped around his knees. His feet were bouncing with a kind of nervous agitation, but he was still looking out to the ocean, away from Blake.

“So, how do you ride those bikes?” Blake asked.

Haze’s head whipped back around, as if startled. He was frowning for a moment, that suspicious look back on his face again.

“I mean is it just like a car?” Blake asked, doing his best to look interested.

A smile slowly crept onto Haze’s face.

“You can drive a car?” he asked, with a mock tone of surprise.

Blake was sitting close enough to give a little shove to his shoulder.

“Yeah I can dive a car,” he insisted.

Haze chuckled a bit, making a play at cowering from Blake’s assault.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, without a trace of it. “Well I guess it’s like a car, except the gear stick is in the pedal.”

Blake’s smile fell and his eyes lowered to the sandwich in his lap again.

Haze laughed out loud at that, making Blake’s face flush a little with embarrassment.

“You dunno howda drive manual huh?”

“Who needs to drive a manual these days?” Blake protested.

“People who wanna drive more than a girl’s car?”

“Shut up,” Blake protested, but he was laughing a bit himself. He was embarrassed, but not the mortified kind of embarrassed he was use to feeling. This was that strange sort of ‘nice’ embarrassment that he seemed to feel around Haze sometimes.

Haze eventually stopped teasing him and began to describe the workings of the ‘all-terrain vehicle’. ‘ATVs’ as they were called. He explained that they were really meant for farms, but had proven popular with the tourists as a way of exploring the Aussie outback. Although they looked dangerous, Haze assured him they were pretty hard to roll, which was really the only way you could get hurt on one. Also, despite being ‘all-terrain’ they couldn’t go through soft deep sand like the sand dune they were on now. ATVs required firmer ground for the wheels to get traction, especially when going up a steep slope.

After Blake had finished eating, Haze gathered their rubbish and stuffed it in his backpack. They then made their way down the dune, stumbling a bit as their feet sunk into the sand. Blake thought it would be easier on the way down, but the sinking sand made it even more difficult. He would build up too much speed, falling onto his backside a few times and sliding down that way until he could get back up again.

Back at the bike, Haze swapped his backpack for the helmets under the seat and then took Blake through the basics. He told him not to worry about the gears at first and just focus on the throttle at the handlebar and the breaks.

Blake was straddling the bike, focusing on the dials in front of him and trying to recall Haze’s instructions when the bike rocked suddenly and he felt himself freeze. Haze had just gotten onto the bike and was now pressed up against him, his left hand on Blake’s shoulder.

“Press the ignition,” he said, pointing with his other hand under Blake’s right arm to something on the handle.

Blake couldn’t move, he couldn’t think with Haze so close. He didn’t know if he could handle having Haze’s arm on his shoulder let alone both around his waist. Suddenly, he thought this was a bad idea. He didn’t want Haze to touch his disgusting body.

“The button dude, ya gotta hold the button!”

Haze’s voice sounded distant and Blake began to feel himself tremble. Not now, he thought to himself. Not now. Not here.

“Don’t be nervous man, it’s really easy,” Haze said in a softer voice.

He was trying to be reassuring, Blake knew this, but of course it only made him feel worse that Haze had noticed. Then Blake remembered how much the bike vibrated when it was running and he felt an immediate desire to get it started so as to hide his anxiety. He held the ignition button down with his thumb and kicked down with his foot to start the engine which promptly roared into life.

“That’s it!” Haze shouted over his shoulder. “Now twist that handle there,” he instructed, pointing briefly before moving both of his hands to rest on either side of Blake’s waist.

Blake gave a yelp and jumped involuntarily at the contact, grateful to be drowned out by the noise and vibration of the bike.

How was he supposed to concentrate with Haze’s hands there?

He twisted the handle, but with his mind on Haze and not on the bike he twisted it too far. The bike sprang forward, inertia sending them both backwards, suddenly. Haze grabbed hold tighter, but Blake was now too terrified to care much about that.

“Not that much dude!” Haze shouted, with the sound of laughter in his voice.

Blake tried again, much more softly and this time the bike slowly crept forward, barely moving.

“More than that but!”

Blake experiment with the throttle and the brake for a bit, mostly just doing circles around the valley they were in. It was surprisingly difficult to estimate how much power was needed, soft sand and rocky sand having completely different requirements. After a while practicing, Haze pointed to a rocky dune in the direction they’d come from and shouted at him to go that way.

Blake built up some speed, but found that to be unnecessary, as the bike made it up the side of dune surprisingly easily. He kept himself low to the handle bars, fearful of tipping over as they went up the dune and down the other side. However, the next dune was too steep or the sand was too soft and the bike began to stall and slip. Haze shouted instructions over his shoulder, explaining how to change gears with the pedal. With a bit of trouble Blake managed to change gears and get control of the bike back again.

Despite being at the mercy of Blake’s unsteady driving, Haze was entirely unflappable. A few times, Blake felt the bike slip to the side or seem like it was about to tip over. But rather than appear afraid or anxious about this, Haze hooted with excitement over his shoulder, laughing and patting him on the back as if to congratulate him.

Blake had thought Haze was only going to let him drive for a bit, but Haze seemed intent on making him drive all the way back. It wasn’t completely unpleasant, but Blake felt rigid as a board the whole way home. He was an anxious wreck by the time they pulled back into the car park later that afternoon.

Haze gave a loud cheer as they finally pulled up next to the row of other ATVs and then he drummed each of Blake’s shoulders rapidly as if they were a pair of bongos. Blake couldn’t help but feel himself flush with a little pride at the accomplishment and at Haze’s encouragement.

He turned off the engine and finally allowed himself to breathe normally as he tried to relax his rigid muscles. He then became aware of Haze’s arms again, but they moved quickly away from his sides so as to remove his helmet. Blake did likewise, before twisting in his seat a bit, so as to face Haze. He had meant to put a bit of distance between them, but instead Haze’s chest was now resting against his right arm.

“That was terrifying!” he declared, trying not to think about the feeling of the other boy pressed up against him.

“That was fun!” Haze exclaimed, laughing.

“I thought I was going to die about a dozen times.”

“Ya loved it, I know ya did.”

“It was noisy and dangerous and scary,” Blake protested, but he was smiling bashfully. “And dirty!” he added, noticing how filthy his hands were, caked in red dust.

Haze dropped his left hand down the side of Blake’s waist until it came to rest just above the hip. He then leaned out and around the edge of Blake’s right side so that they were practically face to face.

“You should see ya face!” Haze chuckled, pointing.

Blake noticed that Haze’s whole face was covered in the same red dust too. He even had a thick red dust moustache above his lip. There was an outline of clean skin just below his hairline and down the sides of his face where the helmet had been, but otherwise his whole face was filthy.

“You should see your face,” Blake argued back, childishly.

Haze’s laughter quietened and he just smiled. That strange look was crossing his face again and suddenly Blake wondered why they weren’t getting off the bike. Haze’s intimate proximity was becoming all too apparent again, sending a giddy rush through Blake’s body. They were so close he could feel Haze’s breath on his cheek. He felt that stirring sensation again and began to fret that Haze would notice. He had to get out of this situation and fast.

However, he completely forgot all about that and everything else in the universe when, unexpectedly, he felt Haze’s hand touching his cheek.

The other boy’s fingers traced down the length of Blake’s cheekbone, slowly, gently, as if to bring his face around. Absolutely nothing about Blake’s body or mind was working now, so he just stared, stunned as Haze brought the fingers trailing all the way down to his chin.

Haze was watching the movement of his fingers intensely, a look of concentration on his face. He then chuckled softly and pulled away, lifting his hand to show Blake the red dirt he’d collected on the pads of his fingers.

Blake realised then that Haze was just showing him the dust on his face, but for some reason this information didn’t make him any less catatonic. The situation was still far too intimate for him to relax or joke. He felt his pulse racing, but for once, not just in an anxious way. He felt a blush spread across his face and although he wanted to, he just couldn’t manage to laugh-off what Haze was doing. He couldn’t seem to move or say anything at all.

Haze continued to chuckle softly for a bit, but then he seemed to notice the look Blake was giving him and his face became more serious. He lowered his eyes a bit and his mouth parted ever so slightly. His tongue flickered out almost imperceptibly, touching just the rim of his lip then darting back inside. He looked up at Blake again and then slowly he raised his hand towards Blake’s face once more.

Blake’s mind froze as if he were in a trance. His whole body was paralysed as he watched the hand approach him.

“Hayden?”

Blake jumped, feeling Haze do likewise in response to the voice that had seemed to appear from nowhere. It was a woman, walking slowly from the direction of the garage. She looked familiar to Blake, but he couldn’t think why.

“Hey Kate,” Haze said, jumping down from the bike and away from Blake as if he were made of molten lava. He seemed to be consciously putting as much distance between them as possible. “I was just –”

“You shoulda asked before taking one of the bikes ya know,” she said, cutting him off. There was a strange edge to her voice. She didn’t seem angry exactly, but she did seem somewhat wary.

“There ain’t any tourists around and Kev never cares,” Haze protested, but he too sounded wary and uncertain. He was definitely on edge around her.

“Yeah, ‘spose,” she said, scrutinising him suspiciously.

Blake, feeling embarrassed, climbed down from the bike and said hello to Kate, who he now remembered as the ‘taxi lady’ from his first day.

“Hi Blake, good to see ya again.”

She sounded polite, but she was eyeing them both now, suspiciously.

Blake started to worry that she’d been watching them and had gotten the wrong idea. Then he started to wonder to himself just what the right idea would be? What the fuck had they been doing just now?

He looked over at Haze, but the other boy was now staring at his feet. He looked tired, defeated.

“Guess I should go back to the resort huh?” he asked.

She nodded at him slowly, slight frown on her face.

“Yeah, I think that’s best.”

“I’ll just pack up,” he said pushing past Blake to get to the bike.

“Dun worry about that mate,” Kate stopped him, hand reaching out to grab at his arm. “I’ll look after that.”

Haze’s shoulders slumped.

“Okay, I’ll just take Blake home,” he said, making his way over to the ute.

Again Kate interrupted him.

“Blake can go with you,” she said, that same strange edge to her voice.

Haze looked like he was going to argue with her, but instead his face softened, his eyes dulled and then he was gone. Real Haze had vanished, just like that. There was not a trace of any emotion in his expression now.

“Okay, come on Blake,” he said robotically.

Blake followed Haze to the ute, climbing into the passenger seat, totally confused about what was going on. He was certain that something had transpired between them, but he couldn’t figure out what. What had Kate seen? Why was she acting so strange? Why was Haze acting so strange?

Once they were out of the car park and down the road a bit, Blake cleared his throat, meaning to ask Haze what was going on. However, he lost his nerve when he looked over to see that it was introverted Haze next to him, totally focused on the road. Experience told him he wasn’t going to get anything out of Haze when he was like this, but how to bring real Haze back?

However, he then wondered, what he would ask him anyway? He racked his memory for something he could put his finger on, but there was nothing. Nothing had happened. It was just a bit of a weird moment. That was all. Nothing had happened.

Blake didn’t have long to ponder over this as it was only a short distance to the resort. He noticed that rather than park in visitor’s car park, Haze drove around the back and pulled up behind the resort’s banquet hall. It was the largest building at the resort, attached via a kitchen to the Kulibari Billabong.

Haze switched off the engine and for a while he just sat there, saying nothing, staring at the steering wheel. Blake wanted to fill the silence between them. He wanted to talk about what had just happened between them, even though he had no idea what had just happened. However, he was a bundle of nerves, so he said nothing and the two of them just sat there for a while until Haze finally opened his door and slowly got out of the ute.

Blake followed him as he trudged the short distance to the building and went inside through the back door. Blake’s attention was entirely fixated on Haze, so it wasn’t until he heard a crunching sound underneath his shoes that he began to take note of the room around them.

Broken glass littered the floor. He could just make out the stems of wine glasses and other bits of broken glassware amongst the rubble. He looked up, eyes widening as he surveyed the carnage of the room. It looked like a bomb had gone off inside.

Broken and upended furniture. Shattered glassware and plates everywhere. All kinds of broken shiny objects, tinsel, Christmas decorations spread all over the floor. Most were broken. Only a few of the lights seemed to be working, one blinking erratically just above him.

He lowered his eyes again and saw that there as a large Christmas tree in the centre of the room, which looked like it had been attacked with an axe. Then, next to it, embedded in the only standing table was just that. A large fire axe with a wooden handle.

Blake was too shocked to move until a voice behind them spoke, causing him to whip his head around.

“Hayden.”

A man was standing in the doorway through which they had just entered. He was a rugged looking man in his late forties with a greying beard. More importantly though, Blake noticed he was wearing a police uniform.

“Hi Joe,” Haze replied.

There was a different tone to his voice now, something more than neutral. It was a challenging, defiant sounding tone.

“Whatcha know about this son?” the policeman asked, hand surveying the room.

Blake wanted to explain that they had only just arrived, but Haze spoke first.

“Yeah, it was me,” he said, head raised high, face slightly cocked to one side.

Blake gawked at him, astonished.

The officer sighed sadly, tiredly.

“You’re gonna have to come with me then Hayden,” he said, reaching behind him to pull out a pair of silver handcuffs.

“Come on Joe,” Haze protested in an arrogant tone. “Ya really gotta cuff me again?”

“Fraid so son,” the office said, making his way over to them slowly. “Standard procedure.”

Blake still couldn’t say anything, nothing was making sense. His eyes followed the police officer as he moved behind Haze and took hold of his arms.

Then, abruptly, Blake found himself staring at Haze again, gobsmacked.

Haze glared at him, eyes narrowing as a look of contempt crossed his features.

“Don’t act all surprised dude,” he snapped angrily.

“W-what?” Blake stuttered.

Haze snorted. “Yeah right. What was all that ‘disassociated angry state’ mental bullshit about? My mother put you up to that?”

“H-huh?” Blake again stuttered, words failing him.

“It’s a small town Blake, ya expect me to believe no one has said anything to ya?”

Blake just blinked.

Said what?

Haze’s eyes narrowed even further as the police officer began to lead him towards the doorway. But he resisted, pushing the man aside so as to lean towards Blake until their faces were only inches apart.

“Everyone knows,” he spat. “Keep away from Haze. Haze is crazy.”