‘So,’ said an unfamiliar voice, ‘what’s your story?’
I jumped. The new guy at work had slid in next to me and was looking at me with curious eyes. I had been cleaning the counter top in circles for about 10 consecutive minutes staring lasers into oblivion. His arms were folded as he leaned casually against the counter. I blinked a few times. Hmm, I just got dumped by a dud of a man who did nothing but play online games and live vicariously through Japanese anime, I’ve been living the same day at this shop for the last 9 months, I have the facade of a socialite with the deadened innards of a ghoul, and I can’t be bothered to even pretend to flirt with you. He raised an eyebrow. I snapped into my usual sunny self and grinned. Then faltered. ‘This year was meant to be my year of fun…but I’m not having fun at all’.
Once upon a time I was a bouncing, bright-eyed Bachelor of Education graduate of the highly esteemed University of Melbourne. After four years of grueling procrastination and consistent mediocre grades, I was finally able to dust my hands of academic validation. I took a gap-year and found myself presented before a grand space of time that was malleable to the shape of my decisions. I was free to do whatever I wanted! I was single, slim and smart. Nothing could stand in my way! The dream-cloud above my head started filling up with adventurous road trips with mates cruising from beach to beach, National park to National park, really roughing it out, creating memories. I pictured myself in my car streaming along the dust roads of Australia discovering the wonders of my own backyard... How naïve.
‘Excellent,’ Dad congratulated me, ‘so you’re not going to start teaching this year?’
‘Nope! Time to have fun!’
‘Excellent!’ He repeated. I saw something behind his eyes. I could see through them to the back of his calculating brain. ‘That means you will have time to help with the business. Once you get your Heavy Rigid driver’s license, you can help me take tours and airport transfers.’ Mum and Dad had started a charter-coach business from scratch before I was even born.
‘But-‘ I want to go on a road trip…
‘It’s time to give a little back to the family. We have worked very, very hard since arriving here in Australia. You know, we came here with nothing but the clothes on our backs.’ Great, he was using the we-came-as-refugees-for-a-better-life-for-you card, ‘and have sacrificed everything for you to live comfortably and succeed in your studies. Congratulations, Child!’
And that was that. Dad had reached up, brought down my dreams and smushed them into a shape of a cog that slotted nicely into his well-oiled machine.
Eight months later I was still rotating in the same spot Dad put me in, going through the motions, paying off the ‘debt’ I ‘owed’ my parents for such a privileged upbringing. After all, if it weren’t for their epic exodus from Vietnam in 1975…who knows how we would have ended up. So my weeks were comprised of bus driving and tour guiding, and for extra cash and somewhat sanity, I worked at a popular chocolate boutique. Yay.
‘Then why don’t you do something about it?’ New Guy asked.
I cocked my head.
‘Why don’t you just run away? Chuck your clothes into a bag and go backpacking around Australia or something.’
Like…a road trip?? Holy crap! I felt my eyes widen.
‘Yeah, go and explore a bit. Just don’t do a Contiki tour. Ugh.’ New Guy shuddered. ‘I’d rather die a thousand deaths before joining a Contiki tour- totally void of culture.’ He was pretty much mumbling to himself at that point but he had me at ‘go’.
‘I’m Knight, by the way.’ He put his hand out and flashed a cheeky smile.
I looked at his hand. I blinked a couple of times and then finally took it. ‘I’m Deb.’
