Healing

‘So I suppose you want to ask me why I left town.’ He arches his right eyebrow in a way that makes my heart ache.

I shrug, downplaying my eagerness to hear his version of events. ‘Only if you want to share.’

He starts to tell me why he left without a word four years ago, but I have trouble focussing. His face is exactly as I remember it. Sure, he currently sports a stubble, but I can still glimpse the dimple on his left cheek and imagine my hands caressing his strong jawline. He has lost a bit of weight and I realise he has been working out. As he leans towards me, I see his muscles flexing behind his shirt. This from a guy who swore never to enter a gym.

I smile at the memory. He continues to talk earnestly, and I force myself to listen.

‘…so, I’m really, really sorry I left without telling you. But as you can see, I didn’t have much of a choice.’

‘What made you decide to become a tour guide though?’ I ask, gesturing to his ‘office’ – the opera house and harbour bridge in the background remind me of postcards my aunt used to send us.

He grins. ‘Easiest way to hide undercover. It’s a busy city; no one’s going to find me here. Didn’t think anyone from our neck of the woods would be coming here any time soon.’ He pauses while the waitress brings us our coffees.

I sip my long black, taking in the crowds at Circular Quay. It’s nothing like our town where everyone knows everyone. He’s right. It is easy to hide in plain sight here.

‘Of course,’ he says, ‘funny coincidence you ended up in my tour group this arvo. Didn’t think you’d venture out of that shithole’

‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ I say.

‘Are you saying it was “meant to be“?’ He uses air quotes and chuckles.

I feel a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach that has nothing to do with the caffeine I have just ingested. I look everywhere except at him, waiting for the feeling to pass. I am surprised he continues to have this effect on me. I watch the seagulls scrambling to steal hot chips from passers-by. A little girl shrieks, scaring one of the gulls.

‘You broke me when you left,’ I say. It comes out in a whisper. Not how I’d hoped.

‘C’mon,’ he says. ‘We were only sixteen. Surely you didn’t think it was forever, did you?’

‘No,’ I lie. This time I look at him. ‘I didn’t. But you could’ve done the decent thing and broken up properly.’

My voice trembles but at least, I’m not whispering anymore. He has the decency to blush this time.

‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘But you gotta understand. I had no choice. Like I said, I didn’t want the coppers after me and then there was Dusty and his mates as well. I thought if I told you, they’d know how to find me. And I didn’t want to worry your pretty little head with any of that stuff.’ He beams at me.

I clench my jaw and look at him. He still thinks I am the sixteen-year-old he left behind. And around him, I do feel that way. I take a deep breath but before I can say anything he stands up.

‘I better head,’ he says, nodding towards the bridge. ‘Got my next lot of people in fifteen. It was good seeing you.’ He pauses and looks away. He turns back to me, ‘Don’t tell anyone back home you’ve seen me, yeah?’

I nod.

‘I have a new life here. I don’t want to go back to that shithole.’

He gives me a hug. ‘Stay safe!’

I watch as he loses himself in the crowds. I unlock my phone with my thumb and open up my recent caller list. I ring the first caller. He answers after the fourth ring.

‘Hey Dusty, you’ll never guess who I ran into in Sydney.’

***

I wait for the train at Central station to head back to my ‘shithole’ town. I delete all the emails from the private investigator I’d hired. She was great. My heart feels heavy, but there is no burning sensation anymore. As my therapist says, ‘healing happens in many ways.’

© Sanch V @ Sanch Writes

Prompts: Occupation prompt – tour guide, First sentence – So I suppose you want to ask me why I left town.

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