Are You Drowning Or Waving? by Sunhawk

(Disclaimed: lyrics off the song 'Out of This World' by Bush)

The blue-ish glow from the computer screen illuminating the office made the moment seem even more surreal. I sat back in my armchair, its wheels creaking slightly as it shifted with my weight, and let confusion sift through me. After spending who knows how long trying to make sense of what I read, I came to one definite conclusion:

I didn't have a fucking clue what was going on anymore.

Before me, gently pulsing, sat the words of my former band mate in his new online diary, something that I had come across after hearing that Darren was finally emerging from his seclusion and was making new music. After clicking the "In The Studio" link, my first shock was the black and white photo of Darren, his eyes closed, earphones on and standing before the microphone. It was almost exactly the way he stood so many times during the recording of Affa, lost in his own world of bittersweet nostalgia as he recorded each vocal while I sat rapt on the other wide of the glass beside Walter A. Shaking off my sense of déjà-vu, I scrolled down and read this so-called diary, the end of the first entry jumping out at me:

"Right from the beginning I knew what the song was about, I knew it was going to be heavy and that it was going to be the introduction to an album that would take me down some darker and not so happy places. I knew I had to go there. But I was stalling. I'd been avoiding dealing with my emotions and the subject matter for long enough. For as long as I could I had been putting off writing songs for my next album because I knew once I went into this headspace it would be a while before I could surface. But I'm happy to say that it felt good to open up this old wound. Felt good to get some hurt out and I'm ready to start telling a story."

...What wound? What story? What the hell was he talking about?

The sensation of confusion was both familiar and strangely new. This, I realized with a pang, is what it's like to be completely out of the loop. Cut off. And this time, I won't get to know the truth before anyone else. I don't think I will ever get used to this. It didn't used to be this way....

***********

//...I am alive... I am awake to the trials and confusion we create...//

***********

"...Darren?"

"You want out of Savage Garden?" Darren's look of shock was almost comical. I felt a guilty flash as I realized that while Darren knew about my unhappiness with being on the road so long, this confession had literally blindsided him. And that flash turned into a surge as I watched Darren slowly assimilating what I had told him, his blank look crumpling into desolation.

I reached out and carefully laid my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, mate. It's got nothing to do with you, it's my fault. I just can't do this anymore." Darren looked at me with shiny, grey eyes, a slight frown marring his brow.

"I can't believe..." He faltered slightly, mouth left open for a moment. "I can't believe this is happening." I leaned closer, wanting to be able to catch Darren if those tears did more than glimmer threateningly in his eyes, wanting to prove to Darren that I wasn't about to just abandon him. And for a moment, with his eyes momentarily closed, he swayed towards me close enough to feel his black sweater brush against my arm. I felt him shiver and I felt like I was holding something infinitely fragile beneath my hand, still clasping his shoulder. Then he abruptly straightened and opened his eyes, smiling weakly in my direction to my surprise.

"It's ok Dan, I'll be fine. I just need to get some fresh air, be right back." And he left the room so quickly that he was gone before my arms had registered the change and fallen back down, feeling slack and useless at my sides.

***********

//...we move... we change by the speed of the choices that we make...//

***********

The phone rang and rang as I paced up and down the street outside the B105 radio station, mumbling to myself about someone picking up. Finally, the line clicked.

"Hello?"

"Darren! Glad I caught you mate! Fuck, things are a real mess, aren't they?" I sounded overly loud to even myself, hyped up on adrenaline and belated nerves.

"So it would seem." Darren sounded cheerful enough that I started to hope he hadn't been tuning in to my latest Australian blunderfuck - I mean broadcast - and that he was just talking about his own stunning article that had apparently hit the press last night.

"Forget about breaking up your own band did you?" I winced at his words, all hope lost.

"Er, yeah, about that. It's just your article just came out of nowhere and I kinda panicked. Plus I didn't mean Savage is gone forever, I just needed a prolonged breather, ya know?"

"Is that what you meant?" I was disconcerted by his continued cheerful tone, not sure how to take his words. I blinked, trying to remember how exactly I had explained it at the time.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't make myself clear, it was just not my best moment," I apologized, then tried for a joke, "Hey, you're the skilled one with words, not me."

"It's ok Daniel, I guess I should have warned you what I was going to say in my interview yesterday." I felt a bit better as Darren's calm voice floated over the phoneline, relieved that Darren was taking things better than he would normally. In the past, my public faux-pas had prompted a few tantrums and complaints from someone well-known for his fits of emotion, both good and bad.

"Hey no worries, it's not like you did it on purpose." A pause met my comment. I laughed nervously, leaning against the nearby brickwall.

"You didn't, right?"

"...No, of course not Dan." I started to frown, narrowing my eyes slightly at his unexpected silences.

"You aren't upset, are you?" I listened keenly, not liking that I couldn't see Darren's face, unsure whether I was asking about my recent babbling or the break-up.

"No, I'm fine Daniel."

"You'd tell me if you were upset, right?" I pressed, feeling as if my voice was reaching over a chasm wider than the physical distance between us. Now I was almost *wishing* for a lecture from Darren, or hysterics even, anything but the static crackling of my cellphone gone suspiciously silent.

"Look, Daniel, I've got some promotion stuff to talk about with Leonie. Don't worry about it, I'll phone you in a few weeks once we've got this madness all smoothed out. Take care, mate!" I slowly pulled the dialtone-buzzing phone away from my head and clicked the off button before slipping it in my pocket. Shoving my own long-fingered hands into the pockets of my jeans, I slouched slightly and walked towards my car, frowning as I tried to figure out what exactly had sounded wrong with our conversation and coming up with nothing.

***********

//...and the barriers are all self-made...//

***********

I found myself paying more attention to the articles I read about him. And the more I read him talking about how happy he was, how content, how well things were going, the sensation of distance grew worse. First he pulled away from me, then he pulled away from everyone else, did he even pull away from himself?

Do you know what it's like to figure out that all the answers you are going to get about someone you care for are from a magazine or a tabloid? I started to search for cracks, verbal or otherwise, anything that would give me a clue as to what he was really feeling. But I'm not with him anymore; I'm part of the rest of the world. I only get what everyone else gets. E-mails went unanswered, phone messages never returned or worse, phones answered by polite staff informing me that Darren would call me back when he had a next free moment. Even my own interview, months later, with as big an olive branch as I could make, went by without a ripple from that side of the pond.

//...There are times when I feel we're about to break...//

And now, he decides that I can have a peek inside. It's not even for me, it's for everyone. It's an open call, as wide and impersonal as an ocean. I want to comfort him like I had in the past, to be the one Darren felt safe enough to open up with, but that ship has apparently sailed. He walks on the water, up to his knees, with a lone arm lifted. It's like he's so far from the shore that I can barely make him out. Is he waving to me? Or is he drowning?

//...When there's too much to say...//

I lean back towards my desk and close the browser window, pause, and then shut down the whole computer. I leave my chair and stand by the window, absently letting my fingertips tap each cream-coloured blind in a downward motion. My own slender eyes dimly gleam back at me, reflected by the glass and illuminated by the streetlight trickling into the room.

//...Are you drowning or waving?...//

This story he needs to tell, I hope it's ours. Funny, I always thought Darren was the dependent one, the person who needs others. That's not true, I thought he needed me. ...No, I needed him to need me. And now that's gone. But maybe... not forgotten...

//...I just need you to save me...//

Don't forget about me, Darren. I'm right here waiting.