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Stepping out onto the street, I can’t think of anything except Sally and getting back to her as quickly as possible. Telling her who I am and what I’m worth. I know it won’t make a difference to her, but we need to start off our lives together with no secrets.
Having not told my mother what flight I was on, I know my driver won’t be here to collect me, and I’m glad. Blending in is all I want to do today.
Climbing into the back of a black cab, we start driving off into the traffic on a rainy Friday afternoon. I know this is going to be the hardest day of my life.
I just need to get through today.
ChapterOne
35 Years Later
NICHOLAS
Itoss my phone onto the bathroom counter. “Mum, I can’t talk now, I’m late for work.” I nearly trip myself as I drop my shorts and scramble to get my shirt off.
The sweat running down my back plasters the shirt to my skin and doesn’t make it easy. Running in the morning sun along Manly Beach will do that to you. Australian summers are relentless, and it doesn’t matter how early you get up, it’s hot all the time.
“Then why did you answer the call?” Her laugh comes through the hands-free speaker on my phone, making me smile as I finally peel my shirt off.
“Because if I don’t, I know you will just keep ringing until I do!” I yell as the water starts spurting from the showerhead.
“Never… okay, well maybe, but otherwise, I don’t get to talk to you. How often do you say I’ll call you back in five, and I’m assuming you mean five minutes, not five days or five weeks, Nicholas!” Wow, my full name, she must be trying to make a point.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, unless you want to stay on the phone and listen to me washing my private parts, Mum, then I’ve got to go.” My finger is hovering over the end call button on my phone.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Son.” Her laughing is not funny this time.
“Far out, Mum. I’m thirty-four years old. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen me naked, and I’d prefer not to even think about that last time.” My mind drifts back to that moment.
“Sex is natural, Nic, but, seeing your son balls deep in his girlfriend and hard at it wasn’t what I was expecting that day, that’s for sure.”
“Mum, for fuck’s sake, you had to go there, didn’t you! That’s it, I’m out. I need to get to work to make sure the prep for the lunch menu is right.”
What is wrong with this woman? She is still laughing at the memory of walking in on me at the age of twenty, while I was pounding into my then girlfriend from behind. Not my finest hour. Actually, to be honest, if my memory serves me correctly, it was a damn fine hour of fucking we’d been having until Mum arrived home early and killed that within about zero-point-one seconds.
“Bye, Mum, love you.” I can’t help but chuckle to myself, pushing the button to cut her off and stepping under the steaming water. The fifteen minutes I planned for my shower is now ten, and that’s stretching it.
Being the head chef at the Park Hyatt in Sydney does not allow me to be late. They expect the best from me, and I in turn expect the same from my staff. Never set a bad example for others. I’ve been where they are, grinding away, trying to climb the ladder in the kitchen. And I will never forget what my pop used to tell me when he was teaching me to cook all those years ago in the little kitchen of their small red-brick suburban house, that a good boss leads by example. If I ever want to make anything of my life, I need to work hard, love what I do, and show people respect, no matter what their position is in the company. I have always tried to live by that motto.
Pop was the cleaner in a big-city office tower. Sometimes on the school holidays he would take me with him at night and I would help him. But most of all, I loved staring out the window at the Sydney Harbour Bridge in all her glory, lit up like a piece of art on display for all the city to enjoy. Below us, from what felt like my tower, was the Opera House that also looked awesome, but the bridge fascinated me more.
Who would have guessed all those years ago that I would be managing the five-star restaurant in the hotel nestled right under that same bridge? It’s like it was meant to be. If you believe in that shit.
Growing up with a mother who was a firm believer that everything happened for a reason, I got a little sick of hearing all the crap she would tell me about believing in the process and what the universe was or wasn’t doing. But as I got older, I realized it was what got her through the tough years of raising me on her own. Well, technically, she was on her own, but my Nan and Pop were a huge part of my life too. They never turned their back on her when she turned up at their front door seven months pregnant after traveling on her gap year after high school. Not quite what her plans were, but if you ask her, that’s what the universe had intended for her.
I call bullshit on that, but hey, I can’t complain. I’m here, aren’t I!
If only my asshole father had done as he promised and come back for her, then maybe things might have been different. Or if she wasn’t so carefree, and actually asked for more details about him, like an address, phone number, or you know, even a date of birth would have been handy. She waited six months for him, but then knew it was time to come home. She was just a holiday fling to him, four weeks of happy endings and a promise of more as he left, taking Mum’s heart with him and in turn leaving her with her own little surprise.
Mum was never bitter, but as I grew older and became a teenager, I was pissed as hell. After watching her struggle to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads, I vowed that one day, if I ever met him, I would punch him square in the face and walk away, not even giving him the time of day.
As I’ve gotten older, that anger has not dissipated, but it has combined with the sadness of never knowing my father. In the end, it was him that missed out. Mum never married, and although she had some partners along the way, nothing ever made her eyes sparkle like they do when she talks about him. I often wonder if she has romanticized the memory of him over the years. I mean, she only knew him for four weeks, yet she never got over him. That sort of thing only happens in the movies.
Shutting off the water and stepping onto the white fluffy bathmat, I snap out of my daydream. I don’t have time for these thoughts. Time’s wasting, and I’ve got to make the ferry to get across the harbor, otherwise I’m screwed.
Traveling in a big city, it’s easier most days to take public transport. The cost of driving a car and parking it for the long hours I work in a day is the killer of any extra money from my paycheck. Besides, it’s become a habit. It gives me thirty minutes to get myself into the zone, to clear my head, and then the moment I walk into the kitchen, it’s game on.
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