The Essence of Noah (Muslim story)

Noodles

I lean my back against the clean white wall of my empty apartment, legs outstretched as I bounce one of Albi's tennis balls against the opposite wall. I don't know how I managed to pack Albi's ball, but it's come in handy as a time waster and stress reliever. I've been sat here on the newly polished, laminate floorboards, playing handball with myself for at least thirty minutes while I rest my legs. The drive to Melbourne was unforgiving. It was as though the further I drove the more I got away from Adelaide, but nowhere near Melbourne. There was actually a point where I started wandering why I was making the move in the first place, but the image of mum's 'I told you so' expression was enough to make me press hard on the accelerator and increase the distance between me and my childhood city.

Mum's prediction turned out to be quite accurate. It took me just over nine hours to drive into Melbourne, and once I was off the freeway, it took me another forty minutes to get to my new address. The VB was barely holding on as I parked it along the curb and killed the engine. By that time it was six o'clock in the evening, and for once in my life, I was appreciative of the extra hour of daylight; it gave me time to empty the car and move everything to the apartment. I did that, and here I am now, on the floor contemplating how long my starvation is going to last, before I regain some energy to look up the yellow pages and find myself a nearby take out shop.

Slowly I stand and make my way through the Tetris obstacle of boxes and suitcases I've created. The tennis ball I was playing with rolls and comes to a halt against one of the brown boxes labelled 'books'. I wander through the small apartment, to my one bedroom. The single item of 'furniture' I have is a mattress, on the floor, pushed up against the wall. Next to it is a small, white plastic desk fan, plugged in at the wall socket and circulating the warm air ever so slowly around the bed. I drop down on the mattress and reach for my phone on charge. The only internet connection I have comes from my pre-paid credit, that's already running low on balance.

I lay on my back, holding my phone up above my face with both hands, as I scroll through local restaurant names. It's a long process, made harder by my growing hunger and quickly fatiguing arms. The issue stems from the need to find a halal restaurant, within walking distance, that has a somewhat appetising menu, and I am yet to find a place that ticks all three boxes. And so, I give up on that, and look for fast food places nearby with vegetarian options. It's a compromise, it's not meat, but it's satisfying.

I give up on the search and decide on walking to the Chinese supermarket, I passed on my drive to the apartment. I switch off the fan at the wall socket and get up off the mattress. As soon as the fan is switched off, the small apartment becomes deadly silent, causing a loud ringing to start up in my ears. I yawn widely, letting my body slouch as I walk back to the mess of boxes and pick up my scarf from where I was sat before. I wrap it loosely, and slip on my worn out thongs that have the shapes of my toes and heels imprinted into the cheap plastic.

It feels strange to walk out of the house without telling anyone where I'm going, or anyone stopping me to ask if I can get something for them while I'm out, or Albi chasing me to the door. Once again, the thought of Albi makes me smile to myself as I close the door and lock it. I take the stairs at my own pace, lazily dropping one foot onto each step and letting my body bounce lethargically as I go. My apartment is on the second floor, with only two flights of stairs between it and ground floor. It's not too bad, but I can see it becoming a major hassle when the temperature decides to peak again, and moving your finger becomes a sweat inducing task.

The streets of Melbourne are more congested than Adelaide's. It's overly populated, busy and the traffic is overwhelming. I exhale heavily through my nose as I walk down the footpath, my thongs slapping against my heels with every step I take. Though the breeze is somewhat cool, the air is humid, and almost suffocating. I find myself parting my lips and loosening my scarf at my neck as I walk in an attempt to stop myself from perspiring so quickly. I don't recall how far, or where exactly the Chinese supermarket is, all I can remember is its bright red and yellow exterior that was hard to miss among all the monotonous street shops.