Amiss

Chapter 4 - Ava

After another long and mentally exhausting day, I'm too drained to cook and decide some tasty takeout is in order. Besides, it's Friday which means my first week of University is finally over. After alighting from the bus, I ignore the endless selection of eateries in the city and my feet drift towards the local Chinese restaurant. The familiar tinkling of a bell signals my entrance and I approach the worn counter, wondering if the kindly man is working.

The craggy face I was searching for appears from the doorway to the back kitchen along with another staff member.

"Hi," The old man's eyes brighten when he notices me.

"Hello, miss. Back so soon?"

"Yes, I'm hoping for another Trey special," I answer with a cheeky grin. The man shakes his head in mock solemnity.

"Sadly, Mr Trey has not placed another order for you to steal yet." I giggle as the man breaks into a grin. He's a hoot.

"If I could order the same as Trey did last week, it was perfect."

Twenty minutes later, I'm still grinning while hurrying up the stone steps to my apartment. I juggle the bag of takeaway and house keys in my hands as I unlock the door. I'm such an old soul, any average 19-year-old living in a new city would probably be out partying, but I'm so looking forward to hunkering down with my delicious food and calling Kyal. Unfortunately, we've barely spoken all week between his work and my study. Kyal said he was trying to finish up his work ahead of the move. While I admire his assiduousness, I can't help but feel it's misplaced at work. If only he were that diligent in returning my phone calls.

After letting myself in and shedding myself of books, jacket and boots, I make my way to the fridge for a particular bottle of Prosecco. I had been saving it for Kyal's arrival but figure what the hell? It's Friday night, and that's worth celebrating.

I pour myself a very generous glass and devour some of the delicious take out. With a very satisfied and full belly I sink into the couch cushions and dial Kyal's number.

"Hey," his familiar voice answers; he must be out as there's loads of background noise.

"Hey babe, how are you? Are you out?"

"Yeah, I'm just having a drink and bite to eat," I can't help but pout, knowing I'm missing out on socialising. "Can I call you back later?" Kyal's question takes me by surprise.

"Um, OK," mumbling to hide my disappointment, the call is disconnected before I can even say goodbye. My pout turns into a full-blown frown at that. What the hell? How rude! Kyal's not the greatest at answering his phone, but he's never just dismissed me like that before. I clasp my wine glass, taking a hearty chug of the bubbling liquid.

I angrily grab the remote and flick the T.V. on, hoping to drown out the silence. My favourite streaming service loads up with a welcome sound, but as I traverse the selections, the less I feel like watching another show. Other than Letty and the kind man at the Chinese shop, I've been craving human contact.

I scroll through my phone and hit call on Katy's number, but it goes straight to voicemail. More than likely, her phone is dead. She really ought to get a new one. I text her a quick message, reminding her to call me and charge her damn phone. I feel pathetic as I dial my parents home phone, it hasn't even been a whole week away, and I'm already calling home.

Thankfully, my father, Doug, answers on the fourth ring. "Hey, kiddo, missing us already?"

"Hey Dad, I sure am. How are you?"

"I'd be better if we weren't losing." I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Of course, my Dad is watching sports. I need not bother asking who's playing because I don't particularly care.

"It's only pre-season. They're probably saving themselves." My half-hearted attempt to placate him, earns me a scoff.

"What saving themselves from breaking a nail?! They've barely even touched the ball," he moans before beginning a rant about his dashed hopes from last season. I hum in agreement at the appropriate moments, but in all honesty, I don't give two hoots about football.

"The breaks over, I'll put your mother on. Nice talking to you, Avie." I say goodbye to my Dad even though we hadn't really spoken other than him monologuing about sport. Sometimes I feel like my Dad forgets I'm a girl, and the only thing I enjoy about football is all the men running around in short-shorts.

"Oh my sweet baby, how have you been?" My mother, Dawn's voice soothes across the distance. My mum is soft-spoken and incredibly sweet, so I instantly forget about my annoyance with Kyal.

"I'm OK; my first week of University is done and dusted. How are you?"

"We're well. Missing you though, even Philo's mopping around." I'm glad to hear at least two people miss me, even if one of them happens to be a canine. "Are you starting your new job tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I start at 9 am. I'm nervous," I admit before gulping some of my wine.

"Don't be. You'll do well. You always do," my mum says with such conviction that I almost believe her for a moment.

"Thanks, Ma. I'll try," I attempt to sound convincing, but my voice falls flat. She knows I'm anxious as hell.

"You know I went to the cinema by myself once. I was so proud of going alone because your father didn't want to see The Notebook and I badly wanted to go... Anyway, my point is; You've moved over 400 kilometres and survived your first week of University alone. You've got more guts than me. I've barely left this town, so I'm sure this new job will be fine. You'll get through it, honey."

"I hope so. I just wish Kyal was here," I feel weak just admitting that.

"He'll be there soon." My mothers' voice reassures me. We wrap up the phone call soon after, and I dive into my take out food feeling much lighter, a combination of my mother's wisdom and, no doubt, the delicious wine.

After polishing off the bottle of wine, I decide to be somewhat responsible and head to bed. The irrational part of me wants to raid the fridge and drink the beers I bought for Kyal, but I know masking my loneliness isn't going to solve anything. There's still no call from Kyal, so I text him goodnight as I slip under the cold sheets. Only three more weeks.

~

It's Saturday morning, and my first shift at my new job starts soon. My stomach is in my throat, and I'm jumpy as hell. To say I'm nervous is a complete understatement. I have utterly no experience in being a waitress, let alone working in general. I've done my fair share of chores, but there wasn't much opportunity for work in my tiny hometown.

After applying my makeup, I check the time on my phone again and frown when I see the lack of notifications. I quickly scan my call logs, but it's not my imagination. I have no missed calls last night from anyone. I try to shake off my disappointment and focus on getting ready.

Time is running out, and I can't delay this anymore. I need to go. I try to remember my mother's inspirational speech from last night, but the memory of the words don't have the same calming effect. Instead, my anxiety makes me feel nauseous, and I smooth my slick palms over my black pants as I head outside into the chilly morning air. I walk past the empty car space, gazing at it in despair. I had been expecting to pick up my car today, but it turns out parts for Mini Coopers are harder to come by than expected. But at least the restaurant is easily accessible by public transport. I frown as it starts to rain and fumble in my tote for my umbrella.

Crossing the street, I hold my umbrella up as the downpour increases. The wind has a bitter chill that makes me wonder what the winters here will be like. I spy the bus stop through the sheeting rain, and just like every morning this week, I'm curious if the mystery man will be sprawled out across the seat again.

The weather dulls my senses, so I don't notice the flash of black approach. That's when I feel a powerful tug at my bag. I try to pull away when I notice a hand is holding onto it, but the person gripping my bag is stronger. My tote is wrenched away with such force that a scream escapes me as I collide with the wet pavement.