‘I don’t care,’ he said, and pointed at the benchtop. I scooped them up and subtly grabbed the bag of ruined shoes, which I tucked in the boot of Lachlan’s car, behind the nest of camping supplies and box of random tools. It felt like I was getting rid of a body.

‘Hey,’ Dan said when I returned. ‘Is now a good time to talk?’

‘What?’ I looked at the food he’d laid out on the table. ‘Of course not,’ I said.

There’s one of these people in all our lives, the ones who ruin comedowns. They want to go to sad movies, loud and crowded sports, call their parents, call your parents, join Toastmasters. They never want to stare at walls and wash their weary faces, go to sleep and find a way to black out all the windows.

‘Forget it,’ he said.

I sat at the table and grabbed a fork. ‘Happy new year, Dan.’

‘That’s tonight.’

‘Just wish me well,’ I snapped.

‘Hmm. You’re at a loss.’

‘It’s a great time to talk. I’m ready now.’

He looked at the fork in my hand. ‘Absolutely not,’ he said.

‘I really want to go home,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to wait around here for a million hours.’ I knew I could not face Chris L. I definitely couldn’t face Vivian. I couldn’t face a plate of food. I could barely face myself.

‘Wake Lachlan up,’ Dan said.

I looked towards the bedroom door.

‘I don’t want to,’ I said.

‘Yes you do,’ he said. I tried to protest further and it all came out as Vghhh. ‘Wake him up so we can go home. Go on,’ he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut to brace myself and walked towards the door. I pushed it open. There was Lachlan, curled up with a huge amount of doona covering his chest and arms, his feet and legs uncovered but hugged in very close. I had never seen a more resolutely sleeping person. I looked down at the floor, which was covered in nitrous bulbs. It was the nang apocalypse, no wonder he was tired.

‘Lachlan,’ I whispered.

Nothing.

‘Lachlan,’ I said.

He opened his eyes at me.

‘Lachlan,’ I said soothingly. ‘It’s time to take us home.’

He nodded, but stared sleepily. ‘I don’t want to get up,’ he said.

‘Lachlan, you have to,’ I said. ‘Lachlan, come on, bud.’

His brow was knitting nakedly, he looked confused and hurt.

‘Don’t cry, Lachlan,’ I said. ‘Sorry, Lachlan.’

I backed out.

‘That was awful,’ I said to Dan.

‘I didn’t make you do it,’ he muttered. It was clear he hadn’t realised how bad it would be.

But when Lachlan emerged he was himself again, our neat efficient buddy, helping me wipe the benchtops while Dan gathered his things. We were getting out of here early, I was so relieved and impressed. Coming down in a stranger’s house is the worst thing ever, and doing it so far from home would be worse by deeper fathoms.