Farewell Queens – Part 2
I am sitting in my room with my laptop on my lap trying to write when I hear a knock on the door.
Two hour has past since the roof fell in and I am beginning to forget about the argument that took place downstairs.
“Hey can I come in?”
It’s Ms L.
“Sure.” I say remaining fixated on the computer screen.
“Writing for the blog?” She asks taking a seat on the end of my bed.
“Yeah” I say looking over at her, her face seems lighter more content. The storm is over.
“I’ve been thinking…” I continue placing my computer beside me and sitting up in my bed.
“I want to move too, we can start looking now and find a nice place up the street for all four of us. I think there’s a new place just opening up on the corner of Devonshire.” I smile and she looks down.
Something is wrong. I must admit in the last couple of months Ms L and I haven’t been as close as we used to be. She is seeing Mr H Hanson again and has been staying at his house.
“I don’t think I can live in Randwick again” I sigh trying to give her more.
“It’s ok, you don’t have to” she says finally, I feel instant relief.
“Ms B and I have just had a big chat about something we’ve been considering for a while.”
I don’t even know what she’s going to say but a wave of sickness quickly consumes me.
There is a long sunken pause.
“We are going to Europe Paige.”
I don’t understand what she’s saying.
“We are quitting our jobs and moving overseas for a bit. We both have dual passports so we can live there and just travel around.”
For some reason I laugh.
“Ok, but this isn’t for a while right?” I ask and now she’s the one looking down.
“We leave in eight weeks.”
“But in the mean time Ms B and I are going to move out to our friends place around the corner. She has two spare rooms for really cheap so we can save money before we go.”
I begin to feel really fucking angry. A million thoughts are racing through my head. Where is Ms B? why is she too much of a coward to say this to me? Who am I going to live with? I don’t want to live with anyone but the Queens. Why wasn’t I invited to go to Europe? Why do they want to move out without me? Who are my friends? Who is this horrible person sitting in front of me?
“So you’re leaving me in this house, a house that is falling down, what am I meant to do?”
“I will put up an ad tomorrow and we will find someone really great to take our rooms, you know I wouldn’t make you live with anyone you didn’t like.”
I want to be sick, I want to run away.
“Ok” I say my throat begins to crack and I feel a river of tears threatening to spill out from my eyes.
“You need to fuck off now” I manage before my whole body starts shaking.
She leaves and I curl into a ball and cry until i’m too exhausted to cry anymore, I fall into a deep sleep riddled with bad dreams.
Nearly 13 hours later and I feel defeated. There’s nothing I can do. I can’t force “The Queens” to stay especially not when our house is falling down around us.
But I also didn’t expect them to leave me high and dry for their own European adventure.
Right now I’m worried about a lot of things, losing my house, losing my place on Bourke Street, losing my friends but there is one thought that plauges me most of all…
Losing my main inspiration for this blog.
What is The Dirthouse without it’s Queens and who am I with out my best friends in the city?