Sydney's Song by Ia Uaro Page A

workers. Of course, if they happened to be miserly landlords, they boxed their Christmas leftovers to send out.
    And in case you haven’t been to Sydney on Boxing Day, the start of our annual Sydney to Hobart yacht race is a vision to behold.
    Dad and his buddies used to be racing participants. When they dispersed, Dad took us to watch the start from his small boat. You could feel the excitement of the race as your sail flapped in the wind.And if your parents had brought you here since you were in a backpack baby-carrier, it felt weird to miss it when in Sydney.
    Today I couldn’t help feeling like a little wounded bird.
    Divorcing parents are deluded if they think that their older kids would not suffer as a result. Divorce taught kids not to trust. Like, how could I have confidence in Pete when he was a drifter? Was there any guarantee he would not get bored and leave? My own parents left.
    I avoided looking at him all morning.
    Struggling to sound cheerful, I directed callers to North Head and Watsons Bay—the places to be on this beautiful day.
    I didn’t dare to smile at Pete. But I did notice Flo—the pretty, blond Aussie who today sat in our pod—flirting with him and flaunting her assets, blatantly trying to wrangle a date. So far he had not flirted back. Still, I shouldn’t worry, right? It was I who wanted to be alone. I was the one doing my best not to look his way. But my feelings towards him were in turmoil.
    The kiss! How could I dismiss the glorious feeling? Or the looks from such a fine man?
    And so I vacillated.
    I did notice that Jack had an incessant cough. He drank water.Talked. Pressed MUTE. Coughed. Drank water. Released MUTE.Talked. Pressed MUTE. Coughed. All because he refused to take sick leave for fear of losing his Attendance bonus. That was what happened when you were an almost-lowest-paid Australian. And it was what happened when the government outsourced their agencies to the cheapest bidders.
    Instead of being impressed by Jack’s $800/month bonus from Perfect Attendance, today I felt sorry for him. I sincerely hoped he would find further education and advance his career.
    Having driven to work in Dad’s huge car, I carried my heavy heart to North Head after my shift. No, I wasn’t taking public transport today: I was copying our transport ministry bosses!
    I drove to Manly on my P-plate.
    Though the racing participants had sailed away, the water was still dotted with hundreds of beautiful sails. I parked near North Head, then walked and walked very fast. I found that if you walked like a woman on a mission people did not bother you. The wind whipped at my long hair. The seagulls shrieked. And my heart writhed in agony.
    â€œDad… where are you? Dad… the Harbour is still as breathtaking as always. The crag of North Head still majestic. And we would never sail out together again…”
    As I walked, wishing I had never been born, I questioned life.Right now, I had no sense of purpose, so why was I here? Why did people have kids? Apart from nature’s way to ensure the continuation of the species, why were we here? For what purpose?Since we didn’t ask to be born, did we even have to stay?
    I walked and I cried angry tears. I was furious with myself for not yet bouncing back to normalcy. Felt like I had been in a state of arrested development for two months. Where was my youthful spirit?My joie de vivre?
    I wanted it back!
    When I returned to my car at dusk, another car was parked next to mine. Pete leaned in front of it, arms crossed, watching me with concerned eyes. My heart flipped at the sight of him. My steps faltered. We looked at each other. Don’t lose it now . His gaze implored me. I care .
    Swiftly he unfolded his arms and walked to me—both hands outstretched reaching for mine.
    â€œI was at Hornsby Library’s car park after work when I saw you running to your car.” He squeezed my hands comfortingly, looking