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.
My scarf blows with the wind as I walk, letting it slip down my head and start to come undone. I pull it back up and tighten it more before tucking part of the longer side under my chin. It's what I get for not using pins. But, until I unpack and figure out what I've packed in every box, I'm going to have to do with tight wrapping and neck pinching.
I start regretting my choice to go out and search for the Chinese supermarket, but before I decide to turn around and head back to my unwelcoming apartment, I pick out the bright red and yellow shop a few metres away, across the street. Triumphantly, I pick up the pace and jog across the road, as fast as my thongs allow, without flimsily bending over and tripping me to the ground. I step into the store, and when I do, I expect a sensor above my head to ring out my presence, but it doesn't. All I get is a strong whiff of Asian vegetables and seasonings.
The white fluorescent lights of the store flicker as I walk down the first aisle, scanning it for the familiar Maggi two minute noodles.
"Can I help you?" An old woman, much shorter than I am approaches me, speaking in a thick Asian accent, that all I got from was 'help'.
"Do you have any Maggi noodles?" I ask, drifting my eyes between the packets stacked on the aisle and the woman.
"Magic?" She asks.
"No, Maggi" I try again, repeating it slowly "No 'c', Maggi." The woman looks at me confusedly as I try another means of explaining. "Noodles, do you have noodles?" I motion with my hands stupidly, pretending to hold a bowl and bring a fork to my mouth.
"Noo-del" The woman says. "Here." I follow her, down the aisle and closer to the fridges at the back.
"Thank you." She nods her head and walks away as I scan the different brands for the only one I know. I don't find it, but I find one that has a similar packaging and take it instead. While I'm close to the fridges, I open one and take a two litre water bottle out and close it. I don't linger much in the store, as the overpowering smell of old vegetables and herbs and spices takes a toll on me and starts a pounding at the front of my head.
I place my items on the counter, where the old woman presses a few buttons on the cash register and says "Fifteen dol-lah" I widen my eyes as I stare at her disbelievingly. My purchase wouldn't even make the ten dollar mark.
"I don't think so." I say as I pick up the packet of noodles to read the price. "This is six dollars." I point out as I place the packet back down. "And water does not cost eight dollars."
"GST included." The woman says as she crosses her arms and waist for me to pay. My tiredness turns to frustration as I stare at the woman trying to blatantly rip me off.
"GS-" I pause and purse my lips, deciding I don't want to argue with her. "Never mind." I say as I leave the items on the counter and make my way out.
"Ten dol-lah." She calls out to me before I step back out onto the street. I stop and turn around, taking my lower lip between my teeth.
"Fine." I take out a five dollar note and a few loose gold coins from my pocket and place them on the counter. I don't believe the water is four dollars, but I'm compromising. "Can I have a bag?" I ask.
"Twenty cent." The woman says as she tugs a plain white plastic bag and shoves the noddles and water into it harshly. I can tell she isn't happy with me and something gives me a feeling she won't like seeing me around here anymore. I don't understand though, I'm sure most of the people that come by here have more sense than to believe that water and noodles cost fifteen dollars.
"Thank you." I say as I take my bag and change and head out the store, without an 'enjoy' or 'come again'.
I walk back to my apartment quicker now that it's getting much darker, the plastic bag hitting my shin every now and then as I go. As I reach my building, I can't help but notice a yellow taxi parked in front of my car. The back door opens and a guy walks out, his Dunlop Volleys coming into view first, then a pair of beige cargo shorts, and on top a white, printed tank top. I can hear his laugh from a good distance away, as the taxi driver gets out and opens the boot. The guy follows him and takes out a suitcase, placing it on the rocky asphalt of the road, before pulling out his wallet from his back pocket and handing a few ten dollar notes to the driver, and then shaking his hand. The guy picks up his suitcase and turns around, carrying it into the apartment building, that I follow him into. I keep a few steps between us as he slowly and cautiously makes his way up the stairs, lugging the suitcase behind him.
As he reaches the second floor, he heads straight to the door beside mine, placing his suitcase down, he fishes out a key from his cargo pocket and unlocks the door. I walk slower up the last few steps, waiting for him to walk inside and close the door before I enter my own place. I'm not exactly interested in meeting my neighbours right now, probably looking flushed and smelling of sweat and Asian seasoning. The guy disappears into his apartment, and I vanish into mine, opening the door quickly and closing it softly, before making my way into the open living room and kitchen. It's only when I place the water and noodle packet on the counter that I realise I have no kettle or pot unpacked to cook with.
~*~
After opening every box labelled 'kitchen', I found the kettle, a small pot and my bowls and cutlery wrapped in outdated copies of the Advertiser. Despite my hunger and fatigue, I decided to at least sort out my kitchen before calling it a night. As a result, my feet were drowned in a sea of brown boxes and newspaper, while my counter and shelves were neatly organised with the minimal crockery and accessories I had bought with mum.
I'm back on my mattress now, desk fan on, and bowl of flavourless noodles perched on my knees. I dig in and scrape the bowl clean of the stringy carbohydrates, then place the bowl on the floor beside the fan. It's not even that late. With my bedroom door open, I can see through the living room and out to the narrow balcony. The lamp outside has turned on, but the sky is a mixture of pink and purple blending together and fading slowly into darkness. I'm tired though; to the point where I can't be bothered opening another box looking for my toiletries, or messing up my suitcases looking for pyjamas.
I slide my back down the wall, my bun becoming looser the lower I get until I'm flat on the mattress. Lazily, I unbutton my jeans and tug them off my legs, sighing in relief as the fan blows against the sticky skin. The feeling is soothing, and relaxing, making me stretch and succumb to the sleep that's been tugging heavily on my eye lids.
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I've posted three chapters, haven't got many reads, but I'm ranked in Spiritual as #617! That is amazing! Thank you to everyone that has been reading, it means so much.
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