Insomnia or Similar
Casuistry
Chapter One: Fig Tree
It is more painful to be alone with someone by your side than without. Does that make sense? Alienation from the figure sprawled in a valley of sweaty sheets is harder to handle than alienation from nothing. Somehow, these thoughts always come at night, or when it's raining. Logically, when it's raining at night the feelings are worse.
She was wearing too-baggy jeans and a lacy cream bra. She lost too much weight since she left home, and is only now starting to regain it. Yesterday, a friend told her she was getting fat and she wondered what her boyfriend thought. Did he look at her and wonder where the waif-like creature he'd moved in with had gone?
She brushed her hair without looking in the mirror. It would have done nothing to help in the darkness, and she didn't want to wake him with the harsh florescence of the bedside lamp. She had been asking him to drop by the hardware store and get a softer bulb for weeks, but he hadn't done it yet. It was always the little things that drove her to gulping tears. She had never been a graceful crier, and she fancied herself rather fish-like when her face was swollen with the exertion.
She put on a shirt in the dark. It was 3 am and she was getting dressed for her classes already. She wouldn't be able to pull sleep into bed beside her, however frantically she grasped at its wispy tendrils. His body was too hot beside her - the sheets too sticky. Her first class was at 9 and she needed to be a happy person by then. It wouldn't do to turn up looking like, in his words, "a puffy great frog". He had meant it as a joke, but in her current state she was hypersensitive. She wanted desperately to go home. Giving up on university and crawling under her bed was what she desired more than anything else in the world, but she felt that to return now would be admitting defeat.
"That's right," she whispered as she felt her way from the room. "I'm just a stupid rich bitch who needs her Mummy and Daddy to spoon-feed her through college. Congratulations, me."
The campus was eerily quiet at night, and she worried incessantly about murderers and rapists. Yet, it was still better than the apartment she rented less than a block away. The musk of sex didn't suffocate her here. The dew on the carefully clipped grass reminded her of fairy stories her mother would tell so many years ago, and of the night she caught pneumonia sneaking out to try and catch them as they danced to deposit each watery gem upon a blade of grass, carefully and precisely. She thought on that night as one of magic and childish wonderment, but it was the night she stopped believing the fairy stories. No pixie magic deposited the dew, only a slow condensation as the early morning fog touched upon the lawn. She had cried.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she created lecture notes for her friends. They had laughed at the suggestion and insisted that it was too much trouble for her to go to. She had persisted, they had relented. She didn't tell them it was a welcome reprieve from the drudgery of her everyday life. If she could keep up a programme of independent, self-contained study for her whole life she could be happy. Maybe. She wasn't sure whether she'd be less lonely or more without her boyfriend.
She whipped up her head, straining her neck, as she saw a figure slip across the grounds. Her hands clenched into fists unconsciously. The stories one heard these days, you couldn't go anywhere without being murdered or raped or both. On the other hand, the figure could simply be the innocuous enough student she had seen flitting around at this time of morning before. Well, she imagined him to be both harmless and a student. She came here for the sense of silence in the morning quite often, and sometimes he would be there. They had never met, and she wasn't sure he noticed her, but she guessed him a student from his appearance. Normally he loitered around the tree she was presently seated beneath and she wondered if her placement tonight was a subconscious attempt to meet the enigmatic stranger. She hoped she wasn't so desperate yet.
His reasons for being out and about at such an hour were unknown to her but she guessed, by his lack of any meaningful activity, that it was insomnia or similar.
He hovered a few metres from the tree and she knew he had seen her. The tight jeans and jacket made her smile. Already showing off at this time of the day? He looked uncomfortable when she caught his eye, and she worried he would leave so soon. She needed the company.
"I'm in your place," she said, just loud enough for him to hear. He said nothing, and she gestured, asking him to come over. "That shouldn't stop you being where you like." He leant against the tree in a standing position and she typed for a while. The sky turned a richer shade of blue, less black. "Can't sleep?" He grunted non-committally, and she took that to be an affirmative answer. The power light flashed once on her laptop and she turned it off. She was having trouble concentrating, her thoughts wandering to the body occupying her bed.
"Can't you sleep?" He was silent, and she snuck a peek up at him. He was smoking, the smouldering tip of the cigarette an ember against the lightening sky. "I'm here because I'm lonely." The words surprised even herself - she hadn't meant to open up to this guy. All she knew about him was gleaned from fleeting glances with only the moon's waxy light to aid her.
"Pathetic."
She turned her computer back on.
oOo
Julianna Gero (the verbal alliteration always made her wince) was sipping Kami-knows-what from a brightly-coloured teacup with a rooster painted on the side. Babymachiattocinolattewhippedcreamophile or something. Short black with whipped cream on the top. It was good, but she wasn't sure about the rooster cup. Cafés were trying too hard to be quirky, to stand out from all the others that lined the street. It was a block away from the university she attended and flanked by swanky apartment buildings, so ultra-trendy coffee shops were an inescapable truth. It did make her mornings more interesting, though. She always sampled the most unusual-sounding coffee in the shop she chose on her way to morning lectures, and they did offer quite an eclectic range.
She glanced at her chunky watch and swore under her breath when she noticed it was already 9. She was supposed to meet Chichi 15 minutes ago and, knowing the dark-haired young woman, she would still be standing in their meeting place, tapping one foot irritably and all riled up and ready to complain about being late for class. Ju suspected she just liked having something to be cranky about.
She checked her watch again as she pumped up the footpath to where Chichi was standing (as expected, tapping her foot and looking cross) and mentally congratulated herself on how quickly she'd run, especially given the shoulder bag she was bearing. Although the two were undertaking different courses of study, they had several classes in common. Both girls were undertaking a Bachelor of Arts, which they felt sure was going to assure them some mighty fine jobs in the future. On this particular morning, each had a lecture on women in politics. It didn't seem a big deal for Ju to be a few minutes late for a lecture, but for her hard-working and dedicated friend it was a nightmare.
"You know, Chichi, you could always just go in without me. I'd get over it." Chichi snorted irritably. She knew it was true, but she would feel guilty going in without her friend. What if it turned out she'd actually been hit by a car and had crawled up the path to their meeting spot, blood and intestines trailing behind her, looking for her friend to call the ambulance and Chichi had just gone inside? Admittedly, this was an unlikely turn of events but there was no denying that it could happen.
"What time does Bulma finish?" She asked, ignoring the blonde's comment. Although Bulma was in her second year of study to their first, she was the same age and they had attended primary school together until she'd been accelerated into high school. They were still firm friends and they had not failed to notice Bulma's energy for life in general fading over the last month.
"I don't know. She said she'd meet us around 11 at the Fig Tree," Ju replied under her breath as they entered the lecture hall. The lecturer didn't even notice they were late, and they slid into some empty chairs at the back
Chichi frowned.
oOo
The Fig Tree was, for lack of a better word, a nook. It was a small café wedged between an offbeat record store and an army disposal. It was always full, but never felt crowded. The staff were heartily pierced and the tables had chess or backgammon boards printed on them. Young people would sit and smoke substances that may or may not be tobacco while they played backgammon and listened to local semi-reggae bands. The food was nothing to write home about. Not bad, but not fantastic, either. They had an extensive menu of vegetarian snacks and so on, but none of the three friends had ever felt any driving urge to sample a zucchini, tomato and pumpkin tart.
Bulma was already waiting for them, idly nibbling on a slice of cheesecake and twirling .
"I was thinking," she began as they slid in beside her, "that I should do it today." Both of her friends instantly picked up on the topic of discussion. She had been toying for about a month with the idea of breaking up with her boyfriend, Yamcha. Although she got along with him well enough she felt that they were growing apart. Chichi suspected there had been some catalyst for their sudden distance, but Bulma would refuse to discuss anything of the sort.
"Do it."
She had been trying for a week now to scratch together enough courage to do it. It was hard to count the times she had dialled his mobile number and hung up after the first few rings, or how many times she'd said 'I need to talk to you' as they ate breakfast and then lamely finished by asking him to pass the juice. She didn't want to let go.
She had her phone out before she even realised she was reaching for it, and Chichi was leaning over dialling in Yamcha's number. She wouldn't have to speak to him if she called now, she realised. He would be in a tutorial right now and she could just leave a message. It seemed cold, but if she didn't do it now she probably wouldn't do it ever.
Chichi had her hands clasped together and was beaming enthusiastically, giving Bulma the occasional nod of encouragement. A quick glance at Julianna revealed she was sampling the cheesecake. She had always been apathetic about Yamcha.
"Hey, this is Yamcha. I can't answer my phone right now, so leave a message."
She drew in a ragged breath.
"Yamcha, hi, this is Bulma. There's... Kami. I've been trying to say this for weeks. Uhm, see, the thing is, I love you. I really do but... I don't know. This is hard. I don't feel close to you any more, and I know you don't feel close to me, either. I... I guess what I'm trying to say is, uh... how do people do this? I guess...
"I guess I'm breaking up with you?"
oOo
Yay! The first chapter of my first fic! Uhm, I'd really appreciate getting at least one review. I'm sure SOMEONE will click on this. REVIEW. I don't even care if you want to flame me or whatever, just review me, ok? My writing machine over there needs reviews to power it.
Maybe I should explain the ages of everyone? I don't know. I DO know that I lead such an incredibly boring life that I have courses of study in a spreadsheet here, based on what one would study at an actual university near where I live. I'm a dork! I feel like I'm forgetting someone, though. I have Chichi, 18 (conveniently named Julianna in this fic for it is a pretty name, and no one is called 18 in real life so there), Bulma, Krillin, Goku, Yamcha, Picollo and Vegeta. Who am I forgetting? Am I forgetting no one and my brain is merely playing tricks on me?
Also, please inform me: is this a suitable chapter length? I do not know these things! Also, I apologise for the suckness of my writing, and for not making everything Americanised. I know it would've been better for you that way. But let's do it my way this time, baby? Your way just hurts so bad.
REVIEWWWWWWWW.