Sydney's Song (11 page)

He turned to me. Dazed, speechless, my wit deserted me. He searched my face.

“You're trembling,” he stated.

“Nervous,” I replied stupidly.

He laughed, the beautiful sound filling my heart with so much warmth. Then without a by your leave he gave me the kiss of my life.

I won't tell you about it.

I will not tell you how to do it if you don't know how. Or how special the kiss was.

But of course my dog felt left out and came barking between us. I jumped away. Dimity!

Suddenly I remembered all the (one-sided) nightly conversations I had had with Dimity these last few months. No falling in love. No boys. I would never marry. Never bring a child into this cruel life. I wouldn't.

I shouldn't.

With thundering heart I picked up the towels that I had dropped to the floor.

“Sydney?” Pete asked with an enquiring tone.

I didn't look at him. I did not know what to say. I did not know how I felt, except very scared.

I stood up and walked quickly to our friends by the pool. Sinead was eyeing us intently, studying our faces. I set my mild, expressionless mien.

My friends asked me to take their pictures, to brag to their loved ones back home that come Christmas, Sydney was the place to be.Swimming in the sunshine. No freezing winter to whinge about.

“We're in this contract fulltime until Australia Day, January 26,”Sinead told me as we idly paddled a backstroke. “We're saving to continue our way north.”

My eyes darted to Pete as worry started to gnaw. Was he going away with them soon? What about the earth-moving foyer incident?

After swimming he walked across the lawn checking all the flowerbeds, shrubs and trees, and looked around with interested eyes.I watched him covertly for a while. Then I followed him and answered his questions with reserved politeness.

“Jacaranda. It's Australian. Flowers only in November-December.Students call it the examination tree.”

He liked the jacaranda, with its beautiful purple flowers strewn across the grass. Next he asked about the kangaroo paw, wattle, and other native plants. Mark and Moya joined us and I ended up giving a botany lesson.

“You don't have a bottlebrush,” Mark commented. “I remember that from a book on Captain Cook.”

“I do, actually. But the one I have is Heath Banksia, that plant with rosemary-like leaves. As it only flowers in winter, you can't see bottlebrushes now.”

“Is it true they need fire to release the seed?”

“One type of banksia, yes. Mine here can't stand fire. See that plant? The waratah. It's Aboriginal for beautiful. In spring it will have vivid red flowers. Waratahs thrive after bushfires.”

“Gosh,” Pete exclaimed, “I hope you don't have a fire in your backyard!”

“No,” I laughed. He tilted his head, looking arrested. Then he smiled, as if pleased that I laughed. “No fire except the barbecue.”

“Speaking of barbecue, Pete,” Mark nudged him, “I'm hungry. Can I start it?”

“Yes. It's ready for cooking, I've had it marinating.”

Mark walked eagerly away.

I asked Pete, “You marinated it? You know how to cook?”

As we walked towards our friends, Pete told me about his cooking.He had travelled to several countries and knew many recipes. “For any meat dish, add a teaspoon of garlic, a teaspoon of ginger, and something sour.”

“Something sour?”

“Tomatoes. Vinegar. Pineapple pieces. Pureed peaches. Chopped green apples. Sour mangoes. Tamarind,” he listed. “Any of these. For this barbecue, we will use lemons.”

“Garlic, ginger, something sour. Is that all?”

“Well, that's the basics. You can always add other stuff like salt, pepper, herbs, spices.”

“Easy. Right?”

I took them to visit Dad's thousands-of-dollars, lavish-choice vintage cellar and told them to make free of whatever they fancied.

“You really don't drink at all?” Lindsay flipped lamb ribs on the barbie. To my astonishment, the aroma of food in that simple marinade—garlic, ginger, lemon… and a smidgen of Vegemite! —was heavenly. “Not even a bit?”

“By not drinking even a bit, I'll never risk drinking too much. I just choose not to. Sort of, why drink when you can live without?”

“Because it's fun!” Sinead promptly piped in. “Makes you mighty happy.”

“Nothing quenches thirst like a beer,” Lindsay topped.

“Good on you. Just for myself, I'll pass, thank you.”

“That's bad!” Mark, an economics student back in Bristol, sucked on his coldie. “Dire for your economy. Imagine if Aussies stopped drinking. Your great wine production, wine tours, and beer industry would collapse! Unemployment would increase. Your government would lose all those beautiful taxes. They'd rather have young Aussies die on the roads, don't you know?”

“And we backpackers would lose the fruit-picking jobs,” Lindsay added. “You should at least drink responsibly.”

“And that is?”

“Do not get foxed as bad as Sinead.” Lindsay smirked at Sinead, receiving a punch on the arm in return. “And don't drive when you drink. Call 1300500!”

Everybody burst out laughing, except Mark who was prone to turn any conversation into a debate.

“I'm not joking, you know,” he argued enthusiastically. “As long as Australia produces wines, there's no way you can stop drink-driving. Your government can't afford to ban the alcohol ads here because too many people are dependent on the industry. Just like some other countries can't afford to ban cigarette ads.”

He was a convincing speaker with a forceful intellect, but in today's holiday mood not everyone cared for his opinions.

“Then thank God they don't produce tobacco here as well,” Moya cut him short. She slouched down next to me, crossing her legs. I noted black nail polish on her toes. “Hey Sydney, we'll put up with a teetotaller like you any day. Tell me your plans. You staying on with 1300500?”

“Probably. Now that I have the hang of it, I rather like knowing what's happening in Sydney. Need to switch to part-time, though.Uni starts February.”

“
Uni
? Indeed?! Aren't you going to take calls until you're 64?”

Everybody guffawed again.

“Are you really going to uni?” Sinead asked. “Oh blessed! What will you study?”

“Animation.”

“Why animation?” Pete asked, just when I thought he would remain watching in silence.

“Well… I want so much to draw or paint. But I'm hopeless at those.We had a school excursion to the Design Centre in Enmore. And hey, I thought I could learn animation. Digital technology makes it possible.”

He waited. Nervous, I plunged on.

“Animation is fun. It'll be challenging too. I dream of creating stories and peopling them with my own characters.” I sensed his penetrating gaze could see my dreamland… No Mrs Fu yelling. No manager breathing down my neck for lower AHT. No one to dictate what I should create… “I'll learn the basics of 3D animation, visual effects, basic game programming. If I can't create stories, at least I'd get a job in media advertising.”

“Good choice,” he agreed. “Seeing how rapidly the online technology is advancing, you'll always be in demand.”

Respecting my parents' house, the friends drank moderately. No mayhem.

“Come often Jane,” I teased Jane when she washed up after us. She even microwaved the wipes for a few minutes to kill the germs.

The friends used my computer to email their “Grand-Christmas-In-The-Sun” pictures back home, showing off to families suffering snow in the northern hemisphere. They invited me to their homes too, giving me their details.

“Keep in touch
when this is all over,”
Sinead suggested.

My head swivelled to Pete at this. He held my gaze from across the room and my heart thundered at what I saw in his eyes.
I don't want
this to be over…
Time stood still as we became oblivious to the others. The rest of the room ceased to exist.

Until Sinead whistled aloud.

She turned on the music and we moshed on the back veranda. I danced with all the boys including Pete, heart thumping loud, gaze averted. Too fragile and confused, I was not in a fit state to make decisions. Not ready for more than friendship. He did not push me, giving me breathing space. But what an effect he had on me… I was a bundle of nerves.

His eyes, charged with a strong current, bored into mine as they were leaving. I was rather unmindful when the others said “Thanks a million” with their Pommy accents.

One day, I would be free of pain. One day, I would bounce back and be happy.

But why on earth couldn't it be today?

I smiled at the ceiling when I woke up, reliving the rioting sensation of my very beautiful first kiss. Until I remembered today was Boxing Day.

Dad was thousands of miles away diving in Sulawesi. This reminded me that Pete was not from Sydney. Just like Dad, one day soon Pete would be thousands of miles away from me. In a few months he would not be here. No more gazing with tender feelings or electric promises.

Gone.

And he would spare me no more thoughts, just like my parents.

Suddenly Boxing Day slammed me with acute depression.

Now in case you don't know what Boxing Day is, it is the day after Christmas, when long ago rich western aristocrats sent boxes of gifts to the houses of their workers. Of course, if they happened to be miserly landlords, they boxed their Christmas leftovers to send out.

And in case you haven't been to Sydney on Boxing Day, the start of our annual Sydney to Hobart yacht race is a vision to behold.

Dad and his buddies used to be racing participants. When they dispersed, Dad took us to watch the start from his small boat. You could feel the excitement of the race as your sail flapped in the wind.And if your parents had brought you here since you were in a backpack baby-carrier, it felt weird to miss it when in Sydney.

Today I couldn't help feeling like a little wounded bird.

Divorcing parents are deluded if they think that their older kids would not suffer as a result. Divorce taught kids not to trust. Like, how could I have confidence in Pete when he was a drifter? Was there any guarantee he would not get bored and leave? My own parents left.

I avoided looking at him all morning.

Struggling to sound cheerful, I directed callers to North Head and Watsons Bay—the places to be on this beautiful day.

I didn't dare to smile at Pete. But I did notice Flo—the pretty, blond Aussie who today sat in our pod—flirting with him and flaunting her assets, blatantly trying to wrangle a date. So far he had not flirted back. Still, I shouldn't worry, right? It was I who wanted to be alone. I was the one doing my best not to look his way. But my feelings towards him were in turmoil.

The kiss! How could I dismiss the glorious feeling? Or the looks from such a fine man?

And so I vacillated.

I did notice that Jack had an incessant cough. He drank water.Talked. Pressed MUTE. Coughed. Drank water. Released MUTE.Talked. Pressed MUTE. Coughed. All because he refused to take sick leave for fear of losing his Attendance bonus. That was what happened when you were an almost-lowest-paid Australian. And it was what happened when the government outsourced their agencies to the cheapest bidders.

Instead of being impressed by Jack's $800/month bonus from Perfect Attendance, today I felt sorry for him. I sincerely hoped he would find further education and advance his career.

Having driven to work in Dad's huge car, I carried my heavy heart to North Head after my shift. No, I wasn't taking public transport today: I was copying our transport ministry bosses!

I drove to Manly on my P-plate.

Though the racing participants had sailed away, the water was still dotted with hundreds of beautiful sails. I parked near North Head, then walked and walked very fast. I found that if you walked like a woman on a mission people did not bother you. The wind whipped at my long hair. The seagulls shrieked. And my heart writhed in agony.

“Dad… where are you? Dad… the Harbour is still as breathtaking as always. The crag of North Head still majestic. And we would never sail out together again…”

As I walked, wishing I had never been born, I questioned life.Right now, I had no sense of purpose, so why was I here? Why did people have kids? Apart from nature's way to ensure the continuation of the species, why were we here? For what purpose?Since we didn't ask to be born, did we even have to stay?

I walked and I cried angry tears. I was furious with myself for not yet bouncing back to normalcy. Felt like I had been in a state of arrested development for two months. Where was my youthful spirit?My joie de vivre?

I wanted it back!

When I returned to my car at dusk, another car was parked next to mine. Pete leaned in front of it, arms crossed, watching me with concerned eyes. My heart flipped at the sight of him. My steps faltered. We looked at each other.
Don't lose it now
. His gaze implored me.
I care
.