Mikaal

38: Mikaal

Dalia stepped into Jamie's Italian, a popular restaurant in the heart of Perth city. It had an industrial feel, with its tiled walls and metal seats around circular wooden tables. Reservations were recommended but Dalia thought she'd just try her luck; she didn't plan to stay long.

"Hmm, maybe I should've booked," she said under her breath as she panned the lunchtime scene before her. The place was packed to the brim, every table already taken, the atmosphere buzzing with chatter. Her shoulders relaxed when she spotted a free stool in front of the bar-style seating they also offered.

When she looked at the menu, she wrinkled her nose. She had already spent so much dining out the last couple of days, so even though Jamie Oliver's 'garlic pizza bread' had an enticing price tag, it likely wouldn't satisfy her empty stomach. She finally opted for their famous prawn linguine, choosing the smaller portion.

While waiting for her order to arrive, she glanced around her.

'It doesn't feel right,' she thought. The ambience was too dark, the place dimly lit by lantern-style fixtures. Plus, she'd forgotten how noisy it got.

Dalia took out her notebook and reread the notes about her dream.

I wish there were more details but they're too hazy. But let's list what I do remember:

We are sitting at a table. It feels intimate. The environment seems brightly lit and it's fairly quiet—as in, he and I aren't shouting at each other to be heard.

Dalia shook her head. Everything about this place was wrong. If she could have just seen the type of cuisine, it would have helped her narrow down the options and saved her from wasted time and money.

It was now Tuesday, the second day of uni and she had visited three restaurants so far, this being the fourth. 'At least I'm not Meagan,' she thought with a raised eyebrow, remembering the meals her best friend would post from a different restaurant just about every night of the week. While Dalia loved new experiences, certain times, she was a creature of habit, enjoying her familiar comforts—like coffee and Tim Tams.

Dalia's forehead creased. 'This is crazy... What am I even expecting?'

Abruptly, she sat up straighter on the wooden stool, squashing her doubts. Although she wasn't certain, for the first time since the discovery of Mikaal's voicemail, she felt a fire in her belly.

'Two more to go. It has to be one of the two!'

She quickly devoured her pasta when it arrived, keen to head to the next stop—Silk Road, a restaurant unique for serving cuisine of the Uyghur people, a minority group who mainly lived in a region in China. It had been a while since she had eaten there; her mouth watered at the recollection of some of her favourite dishes, such as the traditional Uyghur style, oven-baked pie with lamb and veggie filling.

"Man, I should've gone there for lunch!" she said aloud. Nonetheless, she brought her plate to her lips and scooped up the last stubborn strands of pasta into her mouth.

Dalia caught the train back to Oats Street Train Station where she had left her car. Half an hour or so later, she was parked in front of a large grocery chain that was situated just behind a collection of cafes and restaurants.

"What should I order?" she asked aloud as she walked up the gravel incline that led to the busy street where Silk Road was situated. She touched her full tummy and wondered if it would be weird to just get coffee? Did they even do coffee?

'For God's sake!' She drove herself mad sometimes in her indecision. 'Just go with the flow,' she told herself, realising how tired she was from overthinking every minute detail.