Free Names for Nothingness by Georgia Blain Page B

finally made sense to her.
    He asked her what it was and she tried to explain, about the readings, the weekend, and the morning with Satya Deva, aware of the inadequacy of her words as she searched for them.
    He let her finish and then he told her he was happy for her.
    He was, she could see it in his eyes, but she could also see the parent in him, and he had to speak, to counsel her against any hasty decisions.
    â€˜You only have this year to go,’ he said. ‘You could just finish and then you can do what you want.’
    She listened, knowing that her mind was made up but feeling that she should give him the respect of at least appearing to pay attention to what he had to say. But when he asked her to think a little further about her decision, she could not lie to him by making a commitment she had no intention of keeping.
    â€˜I know that it’s what I want to do,’ she said.
    He squeezed her hand gently. ‘You’ll have to tell Sharn.’
    He was right, and she knew she would have to do it soon.

I T WOULD BE WRONG TO SAY THAT Caitlin felt entirely at home within the group house in the weeks that followed the camp, or that she had found the community she had always desired. But it was not, in fact, community that Caitlin had been looking for; she had wanted a way of viewing the world, a perspective that she could understand, and it seemed at last to be within her grasp.
    She was happy, and there were times when all she wanted was to share this, but she kept her silence, aware that she was not completely ready. Almost, but not quite.
    When she returned to school after the weekend away, the careers counsellor asked her why she had not yet handed in her university application form.
    â€˜Because there’s nothing I want to do,’ she said.
    â€˜Maybe not now,’ he sat back in his chair and looked at her. ‘That’s quite understandable. I actually think a couple of yearsoff is a good thing. But you should apply now, and then you simply defer.’
    â€˜Do you like what you do?’ she asked.
    He shifted slightly in his seat. ‘It’s not bad.’
    She blushed. ‘That’s not what I meant. Do you really like it? Do you have faith in it? Does it mean anything to you?’
    He smiled, but it was an uncomfortable smile. ‘There are days and there are days.’ He pushed another copy of the form towards her. ‘Will you just complete it?’ he asked. ‘You have always had good marks, you could get into anything. There is time to decide later on.’
    â€˜I’ve already decided.’
    His sigh was audible. ‘Listen,’ and he leant a little closer. ‘There’s a reality out there.’ He waved his hand towards the window. ‘There’re bills to pay, obligations, harsh facts. You have the intelligence to make life a little easier for yourself. To find work that will earn you decent money and that won’t be totally mind-numbing. When you’re young, you think it’s all irrelevant, but trust me – it isn’t.’
    â€˜It can be.’ She uttered the words softly, still uncertain as to the glorious future that was opening up for her, tentative in her reach for a world that suddenly seemed possible, despite the fact that she had hardly ever dared hope for its existence.
    He gathered the forms together and stood, too tired to continue with a conversation that was becoming increasingly pointless.
    â€˜It’s up to you,’ and as he spoke, he tried to hand her the forms again.
    She didn’t take them from him.
    â€˜Think about it.’ He opened the door to let her out.
    She caught the bus to the house most afternoons, watching each of the people she went to school with getting off,the seats emptying until she was left alone, there at the last stop.
    The streets were dusty and dry, scraggly paperbarks offered little shade, and the afternoon sun was hot despite it now being autumn. Her