Authors: Lindsay Tanner
Tags: #FIC000000, #FIC050000, #FIC022000, #FIC031010
Comfort Zone (31 page)
Ah
, thought Jack,
that pile of building rubbish I tripped over turned out to be useful
. He decided not to question Farhia any further. Clearly, the internal dynamics of the Somali community were even more complex than he had realised.
As they approached the airport, he turned quickly to Emily: âI assume I'm giving you a lift back?'
âYes, thanks, that would be great, Jack.'
âI can't park the cab, so I guess I'll drop you guys at the kerb, and do a loop or two and pick you up.'
âThanks. I think I'm needed to help with the luggage, find the right counter, all that stuff.'
âOkay, I'll do the round trip, call if I can't find you.'
He drove slowly up the ramp to the departures level, past the Virgin terminal, and came to a halt at the front of the international terminal. The traffic wasn't that bad, as the morning peak was almost over.
Jack busied himself lifting their things out of the boot, and helped Farhia and Emily arrange them so they could wheel and carry them into the terminal. For someone leaving the country for good, she had surprisingly little luggage.
He stepped aside, straightened his back, put his hands on his hips, and took one long, last look at the woman who had captivated him. Her beautiful oval face, deep, enticing eyes, and flowing garb were all indelibly etched on his mind. A mixture of sadness and satisfaction washed through him. His pursuit of Farhia had always been hopeless, but he'd done it anyway, and it had changed him. He was quite proud of what he had done for her.
âThank you, Jack. I will think of you always. You saved me and my family. I will not forget.'
Struggling to suppress a banal reply, like âAll part of the service,' Jack nodded and mumbled, then looked at Emily as if beseeching her to rescue him from his own emotions. There were tears in his eyes. He made no attempt to embrace Farhia, as he assumed this would be unwelcome. He understood that she was exchanging one set of terrors and threats for another. Who could imagine what awaited her in Somalia?
âWe'd better get a move-on. I'll see you in about ten minutes, Jack.' Emily could see that he was upset.
When he collected Emily as arranged, after completing a couple of circuits, the first thing he thought of was her illness.
âHope you didn't have to do too much carrying, and all that.'
âNo, only a couple of small things. Really just an excuse to help her sort out her tickets, and so on. Not easy getting served properly if you're a Somali woman in traditional dress.'
âYeah, suppose so. They okay?'
âNo problems. Got the tickets, luggage checked, all that. Seats near the back. The flight's about fourteen hours.'
âEver been over there?'
âNot really. I went to Lebanon and Turkey when I was a student, but I've never been to Africa. Where I live, you don't need to. I've got the rest of the world all around me in my own building.'
âTrue.'
âWhat about you? Travelled much?'
âWent to New Zealand once. And a couple of drunken holidays in Bali and Phuket, that sort of thing. That's all.'
âI'd like to travel again, maybe to central Asia, all those places that end in âstan. Or perhaps eastern Europe, like Bulgaria, Romania â places like that.'
Jack wasn't sure why anyone would want to do that, but he thought it prudent not to ask. He let Emily continue her travel musings, and allowed himself to be tantalised by the musical tones of her voice.
She sure is different
, he kept thinking, as she moved on to Latin America and the struggles of various indigenous peoples.
The return trip passed quickly.
âWhere do you want me to drop you? At the flats?'
âThanks, that'd be great. Do you want to get a coffee?'
âEr, probably should get round to doing some work â¦'
âYeah, guess so â¦' There was genuine disappointment lingering in her response.
â⦠but hey, what the hell. A morning off won't kill me. Probably end up just sitting on a rank somewhere anyway. I can't be much more broke than I already am.'
âWe can work out which movie to go and see â¦'
âYeah, ah, good idea.'
Jack wasn't accustomed to being invited out to the movies. He felt out of his depth. Farhia was different. The unbridgeable gulf between them had allowed him to remain in the comfort zone of guaranteed failure. Basking in her admiration and fantasising about a relationship was a good substitute for the real thing. It was almost like relationship porn: no risks and no obligations. Emily was much scarier, because there was a small chance that it might be real.
He knew he was making a big call. He could easily draw a line under the past few weeks and retreat to the security of his previous existence.
He tossed all this around as he turned into Lygon Street. As they were bouncing over the disused railway line, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, spreading a watery glow across the skyline.
When they slowed at the Pigdon Street lights, he turned to Emily: âHey, let's do it properly. How about a serious coffee, fancy cake, and all that stuff? Like at Brunetti's? Never been there, but they say it's pretty good â¦'
âDeal.' Emily smiled at him, a glimmer of pleasure lighting up the impish grin that he found so charming.
Jack had never enjoyed a cab trip as much as this one. A new world had opened up in front of him, and he had decided to give it a try.
Goodbye to the old Jack van Duyn
, he thought.
And good riddance
.
Author's note
The characters in this story are entirely fictional. The locations in which it takes place are real, but in some instances I have taken liberties in my description of them. Dan O'Connell's, the Court House, and the Lyndhurst are all real hotels, but my descriptions of their clientele, atmosphere, and decor are drawn from countless memories of inner-Melbourne hotels over several decades, not contemporary reality. There have been several ethnic community centres housed in various public housing tower-blocks, but, as far as I am aware, there is no Somali Welfare Centre. Dracula's is a genuine, and longstanding, theatre restaurant in Carlton, but again my descriptions are not drawn from real life. There is no Matt's Pool Room in Orr Street, and the Carlton Police Station closed some years ago. There is no hayfever drug called Teludene â either on or off the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme.
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Omar Farah for his critical comments on my portrayal of the Somali community. Thanks to Henry Rosenbloom and the staff at Scribe for enabling me to attempt something outside of my comfort zone; to Mary Day for her invaluable advice over many years; and to Jason Steger, Helen Elliott, Fiona Kranenbroek, and Sybil Nolan. Thanks also to Graeme Simsion and Harrison Young for their advice on fiction-writing. Needless to say, any flaws in my work are my responsibility, not theirs.
And heartfelt thanks to my family, particularly my wife Andrea and children Jemma, James, Ainsley, and Remy, and my mother Maree, for all their support and forebearance.