Chapter Two
Cresting the hill that separated Illawarra Valley from the community of Barking Beach, Lachlan left the ocean and slowly setting sun behind.
He passed the empty cricket pitch at the top and sped down by the cluster of industrial sheds housing motor repairs, a woodworker, and a party business renting bouncy castles and water slides.
Before his time, this industrial area was where civilization had ended, giving way to the dry bush. But suburban sprawl had taken over, and residential streets snaked through the valley past the cluster of warehouses and garages. He turned left onto his street.
Well, not his since law school, but he could map the olive, frangipani, palm, and Illawarra flame trees with his eyes shut. The orange brick and yellow sandstone houses were as familiar—
In the fading light, he did a double take. The house across the street and two doors down from his family’s was gone. It’d been there last time he’d visited—only a few weeks before.
He would’ve thought the squat cottage in rough-hewn sandstone with a covered veranda was old enough to earn heritage listing, but apparently not since all that remained was the empty lot and idle construction equipment.
The Illawarra tree near the footpath had survived, its red, bell-shaped flowers past their prime and drying on the ground, the tree mostly only green leaves again.
Behind him, a horn beeped, and he lifted a hand in apology to the driver before turning left onto the curb and parking sideways on the verge. The grass between the footpath and the road was a barren yellow that crunched under his tires.
Like most houses in the neighborhood, theirs was a single story. Originally brick, it’d been redone in white stucco a few years before. Top-heavy frangipani trees shaded the tile roof and littered the driveway with flowers.
His belly flip-flopped at the sight of the yellow and white blooms. He plucked one off the top of the recycling bin and fingered the silky flower, memories of Bali flooding him for the hundredth time that day.
What had he been thinking? He still couldn’t believe he’d done it. Apparently he was having a quarter-life crisis. More like third than quarter, but all the upheaval and uncertainty had clearly gotten to him, and meeting Tim had been a wonderful escape…
“Am I interrupting something?”
Lachlan jumped as his sister, Belinda, appeared in the open wooden gateway to the covered patio space. He laughed. “No. Just…pretty.” He motioned with the petals before tossing the flower away.
Bel’s thin eyebrows lifted. “Yes, they’re very pretty. Since when are you stopping to smell the flowers?” She seemed to catch herself. “That’s good, though. Guess there’s more time for it these days, hey?”
He forced a laugh. “Yep.”
In the awkward silence, he followed Bel through the gate, closing it behind. She’d stopped asking him what exactly had happened at the firm, at least.
Bel stopped. “Oh, did you bring some stuff over? I’ll give you a hand.” She plucked a hair elastic off her wrist and pulled her shoulder-length, dark wavy hair up into a ponytail.
His SUV—which he was still paying off—was full of boxes. He was glad he’d rented a furnished apartment so he didn’t have to find a storage unit for furniture, but he somehow still had boxes and boxes of things.
They carried the boxes through to the patio, stacking them in the corner. Lachlan said, “Might put some of these in the garage, so let’s just leave them here for now. Are you all packed?”
With a groan, Bel flopped back on one of the three overstuffed leather couches set around a low wooden coffee table. “I hope so. Do you know how hard it is to pack for six months away?”
“At least Singapore’s basically always hot. Drink?”
“True. Early flight, so grab me a Bundaberg?”
Lachlan ducked through the open glass door on his left to the kitchen, pushing aside the white string curtain that deterred flies.
He grabbed a ginger beer from the fridge along with a Great Northern lager for himself before returning.
After a few thumps to the bottom of the squat brown bottle to loosen the sediment, he gently turned the ginger beer up and down before pulling the tab for the lid.
Bel reached up for the bottle and slipped it into one of the worn Aussie flag stubby holders that lived on the table. “Thanks.” She passed him a neoprene holder as well.
Sitting on the couch beside the gate, Lachlan twisted off his bottle cap and tossed both lids onto the table. He’d throw them in the bin later.
A ceiling fan thumped above from the arched wooden roof of the patio, rustling the bamboo stalks lining the sandstone wall between them and the neighbor.
Over the wall, a little girl was whining, “Daaaaad.” The particular tone of her voice reminded him of himself and Bel as kids, and he breathed through a rush of memories. More just fragments and feelings. It was so long ago now yet felt like yesterday sometimes.
“You remember that time you had a pool party for your birthday and Dad wanted the parents to sign a release form?”
Bel laughed. “God, I was so embarrassed. Death or dismemberment! Drowning, sure, but I’d hope no one’s limbs would be in jeopardy. And then he and Mum had a big row about leaving the law at the office.”
Lachlan’s smile faded. “Oh. Right.”
She stretched out a foot and nudged his leg. “Just because they fought sometimes doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other.”
“I know!” He still preferred to let those particular memories be eclipsed.
Beyond the patio roof that kept out the sun from the sitting area, the rectangular pool glistened. The sky was streaked orange over the barbecue and clotheslines by the back wall.
Lachlan could imagine the lifeguards at Barkers finishing pack-up and warning the remaining swimmers that they were on their own.
“You excited?” he asked Bel.
She propped her bare feet on the table, crossing her legs at the ankle. Her toes were painted a deep fuchsia that matched her fingernails and the flowers on her shorts. “Excited for the week in Bali. Nervous about the six months in Singapore.”
“It’ll be amazing. Mitch finally has a gig in a great spot.”
“True. Once we have a baby, he’ll probably be back on FIFO to the Pilbara.”
Lachlan’s brother-in-law, Mitchell, was an engineer and had mainly worked for mining companies with the standard “fly in, fly out” model from Perth to the remote regions of Western Australia.
“Remote” described most of WA, but some spots were only accessible by air. The contract heading a non-mining project in Singapore was a great opportunity for him—and Bel.
“You’re only thirty-two. You’ve got plenty of time.”
She sighed. “Hope so. You realize that once I’m thirty-five, it’ll be a ‘geriatric’ pregnancy. No doubt a man came up with that term.”
He chuckled. “No doubt.”
“And how’re you feeling about holding down the fort? Don’t reckon you’re excited about moving home.”
“Dunno, honestly. It’s a relief to not be paying seven hundred a week for my unit anymore.”
“You insisted on living in the CBD. You have to be out by Sunday?”
“Yeah, but Ryan’s going to help me move the last of it tomorrow.” He’d initially been thrilled to move right into the heart of Perth’s Central Business District, but returning to Barking was a relief now. It was properly dark and quiet at night.
Bel sipped her Bundaberg. “Which room did you want? Your old one or mine? Both queen beds, and Mitch fixed the air con unit in yours.”
“I’ll take yours. Closer to the toilet.”
The room he’d grown up in wasn’t really “his” anymore, but it still felt strange. He’d moved out during law school, and Bel and Mitch had completely remodeled the house.
“Whatever you like,” she said.
“Does it ever feel weird? To be in their room?” he asked. Even after Bel had married Mitch, they’d stayed in her childhood room, leaving the main bedroom empty until after the remodel.
She blinked, seemingly surprised by the question. “Not now. It looks completely different, and I suppose… Suppose it’s been long enough that it doesn’t feel haunted. It kind of became Auntie Jo’s room after.”
When their parents had died, Dad’s sister had come from Auckland and moved in with them for a year, returning home after Lachlan went to uni. He and Bel had insisted they were fine, and they were. Fine enough at least to feed themselves and do the laundry and take care of the pool.
Auntie Joanne had her own life and family in New Zealand.
Their mum’s family were in the UK, and they still had birthday cards and a video chat at Christmas but weren’t very close.
Their dad and auntie had grown up in Auckland, and Lachlan’s grandparents on the Yang side had passed.
There were still relatives in Hong Kong but Dad had never taken them there.
He and Bel sipped their drinks in silence.
Finally, Bel asked, “By the way, did you thank her for the New Year’s gift?”
He huffed a laugh. “Yes. That was last month.” Though they’d long been adults, Auntie Jo faithfully sent them red envelopes with a shiny hundred-dollar bill inside every January or February, depending on when the lunar new year fell.
He imagined she had a stack of Aussie currency in a drawer and every year, took out two bills.
When Bel had kids, maybe she and Lachlan would finally stop getting the gifts. He hoped not. Not for the money—though he wasn’t rolling in it—but the tradition of the red envelopes sometimes felt like all he had of his Chinese heritage.
Bel asked, “How was work?”
“I wasn’t on today. Cyclone sent a message about an emergency staff meeting tomorrow morning before opening. Not sure what that’s about.”
She frowned. “That’s unusual. Let me know.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll be in Bali.”
“As long as you’re not getting sacked.”
Lachlan gulped his beer to hide a wince. “Without the lifeguards, we’d have tourists drowning daily. Besides, I highly doubt I’m being disposed of in front of everyone in the middle of the season.”