Torrential rain poured over me and numbed my chest with cold. Through this deafening noise I could barely hear a siren from the next block, perhaps further. The pavement dug into my knees and water soaked my jeans. But everything seemed trivial while I knelt on the road, holding Kent in my arms, one arm over his chest and the other under his head. His shoulder dug into my lap and I struggled to keep him from slipping. In the harsh streetlights, his face was pale and buffeted by water. I brought my head closer to him, hoping to see his chest rise and fall. I rocked back and forth when nothing happened; I’d never see the smile or the colour of his eyes again. Things like this didn’t happen to me or anyone I knew, how could they? It was only minutes ago we were laughing and getting into our cars, excited about the party, and now I felt like my very heart was exposed in my arms, losing its rhythm and strength. My throat felt constricted with panic and something like a hiccup came out.

Blue and red flashing lights reflected off my car’s windscreen and the rising water in the gutter that was overflowing from the storm-water drain. But the emergency vehicle was nowhere in sight, and I wondered in which direction it had gone; we were not the only victims, and maybe not even the priority. I raised my head to the storm-water drain where Kent’s car lay overturned, only the back wheels and taillights visible above the torrent of water. Close by, across the road, was the massive branch that had snapped off a tree and fallen straight into his path.

It all seemed futile. My mouth filled with salty saliva and my eyes began to burn. Kent’s weight against me felt preternatural. His windbreaker was ripped in places when he had been pulled out of the wreckage, through the broken window. John had jumped into the drain, had submerged himself completely, all to rescue the one he had come to resent more than anyone else in the world. John was behind me and I leaned against his legs, finally letting the sobs rip through my throat.

---

When I came downstairs with several pillows in my arms, I saw that Daniel had already fallen asleep in the armchair, an empty beer can in his lap. That would be his sleeping spot for the night, but the remaining six guys were in the process of spreading blankets on the sofa and doonas on the floor. There was groggy stumbling and random laughter, and a few expletives about inappropriate sleeping arrangements.

I threw pillows at each of them. Sam and Steven caught theirs; the others flailed out but missed. Kent didn’t even make an effort and the pillow bounced off his chest and fell at his feet..

“Well have a good night boys, I’ll see you in the morning when you’re all nice and hung-over.” I gave an exaggerated wave and turned to go. Something soft thumped into the back of my head, almost sending me to the ground. Kent had thrown a pillow.

I spun around too quickly, lost my balance, and fell right into him. We both fell to the sheets on the ground. “That’s a bit of an over-reaction…” he joked.

“I’m going to bed, you do the same” I pushed myself off and left the loungeroom to return upstairs. John was already in bed, under the covers. I stood at the door for a while, and then went across the hall into my father’s room. He was overseas, so the bed was empty, all the sheets and pillows stripped off. I sat down and rested my head in ym hands. It had been a good night and I was still light headed from drink. I had several guys sleeping downstairs, and one in my bed.

I heard heavy footfall on the staircase and looked up to see Kent standing in the doorway.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Just wandering around …”

“There’s a toilet downstairs…”

“I know.”

The air was thick and cold around us, but I burned inside as if with a fever. They all fooled around, voices loud. Laughter echoed in the late night. Kent and I stumbled into each other, smiling and saying things I cannot remember. Our faces were close, mere centimeters, so that I could feel his breath as he talked into my lips. The world around me melded into itself until it was all a swirl of colour and light. I could feel the length of his body against mine, and I brought my arms up, my hands roaming his abdomen, our thighs pressed together. My throat constricted and my heart tried to thump its way out.

His scent threw me into a craze; the smell of skin and hair, the way it should smell, without colognes or soaps. I felt it then, the definite hardness of him against my thigh. My whole existence was the feel of him and the smell of him and the imprint this would leave in my memory.

He carried me like a baby in his arms. I placed my head on his shoulder, onto the wet suede of his jacket. He smelled like the night and the rain. The drink had affected us both, had induced primal instincts and thrown us together without a second thought. He had lifted me off the ground, and now he was carrying me to the car park while John plodded along beside us. The city lights reflected off the wet pavement and coloured everything white, red and orange. I could see the lights glinting off his eyes, his hair soaked and his mouth breathing puffs of steam.

“You’re carrying me.” I said.

“Yes, I am.”

I tilted me head further into his neck until I could feel the wetness there, the warmth. I pressed my lips lightly against his skin and wondered if he could feel it.

---

From the first moment I saw him, I felt as if he was someone from my childhood. I had seen plenty of my old classmates around, years after graduation. Faces had been linked to names, but Kent’s had no link to a context. I knew him, yet I didn’t. Now I’ll never get to know him any better