Chapter 2 Koby
Koby
The cab from the airport was agonisingly slow.
Serves me right for flying in on a Friday afternoon.
Banked up traffic all the way to the Eastern suburbs.
I met up with my daughter, Aria, in Melbourne as she was wrapping up the Ghostly Flux enduro season.
She organised some sponsor meetings for me to be a part of at the last minute, considering I was down there.
The end of season testing getting the plug pulled meant I could hang out with Aria outside of meetings, but as it was unexpected, she was getting busy with friend commitments between work and the silly season approaching.
But she had everything sorted work-wise.
She didn’t need me there at all, and I started to feel in the way.
I’m so proud of her hard work and balancing her social life so she won’t burn out.
I was thrilled she wanted to come work in the family business after uni, and she’s really taken the reins on the enduro side of the business. She has everything under control.
The cab pulls up to my house in Bronte, and the light brown bricks of the modest house are a sight for sore, tired eyes.
I’m ready for an early night so I can hit the beach in the morning.
Slipping the key into the lock and swinging the door open, I notice an uncharacteristically damp smell.
I take a step in and my shoe meets the squelch of soaked carpet.
“Fuck!”
I flick on the light and behold. The house has flooded, and there is not a centimetre of floor that doesn’t have water.
Leaving my suitcase outside the door, I continue walking into the house, heading straight for the kitchen and patting the counter to ensure it’s dry before placing down my laptop bag to look under the sink, and there it is. A burst pipe in the kitchen.
I shut off the water and start to think.
Who was here last? How long has this been going?
Aria said she stopped in here a month ago, so this must have occurred over the last few weeks.
Hopefully, the damage isn’t too drastic.
Jumping on the phone, I’m quick to organise some tradies, cleaners and start the insurance claim, but nothing can happen until the following week.
Not an emergency, so no need to call them in on a Friday after hours.
But they advised it best to not stay until the damage has been assessed.
I’m about to call a hotel when my phone rings.
“Hi Rayna. How are you going?”
“Heya, Koby. Good here, was just seeing what you were up to. How was your trip to Melbourne?”
“Yeah, it was great. Aria has it all under control. But I’ve arrived home to water damage. I was just about to work out which hotel to call and hope they have a vacancy for the next week.”
“Don’t be silly. Come stay here. I have room.”
“Geez, that would make things easy. As long as you’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I can come pick you up?”
“No, don’t worry about that. Friday afternoon traffic. I’ll make my way over now. Thanks, Rayna.”
“Anytime!” She replies, and the phone goes dead.
Stepping out of the cab and staring up at the terrace takes me back to a time over twenty years ago.
Standing in front of this terrace with Wesley, Courtney, dropping Rayna off or picking her up.
I instinctively look over, and there is a new Triumph Thruxton sitting where she always parked her bikes on the small front patio.
The facade is just as I remember it. Brown and cream highlights.
But this time, the colour scheme extends over to the next terrace house, which was once burnt red and rusted iron bars as the decorative trims.
Rapping my knuckles on the door, I’m met by Rayna a few short moments later.
“Koby! So glad you’re here.” Extending her arms and embracing me in one of her warm hugs, I’m transported to being twenty again.
“Heya, Rayna. Thanks so much for this.” Inhaling deeply, smelling her familiar vanilla scent.
“No need to thank me. You’re welcome anytime.” She steps back and extends her hand out for me to head in.
The interior design is just as I remember, however it is double the size.
“Ahh, this seems bigger?” I exclaim.
“Oh yes, I had an opportunity a few years back to buy the terrace next door and open it up. Now I have more room for people to stay over and add a garage. Louie, Declan and Marla are all too big to share a room with parents, and if they have kids down the line, there’s plenty of room for everyone over the breaks to spend time here. ”
“You were always one for forward thinking.”
She smiles sweetly at me and ducks her head. “Feel free to make yourself at home. I just had dinner, but there are some more meals in the fridge the chef has cooked.”
“Chef? Don’t we live the life?” I tease.
She playfully waves her hand. “Stop! It’s a friend of mine. Plus, I’m on my own here for a few weeks. Feels like a waste to cook food just for myself.”
I know the hidden meaning behind that gesture. She would have told this friend that reason so she could support their business where she can. Always doing what she could for her friends and family.
“I could eat. Aria had to skip lunch with me for another equipment meeting, and the flight didn’t serve food.”
“She is a machine. How is she going?” She asks as she goes to the fridge and pulls a pre-portioned meal out and sticks it in the microwave.
“Going well. She really didn’t need me in any of the meetings she had me down there for. I have full confidence in her leadership capabilities. She retained much more in her uni degree than I did.”
“That wasn’t hard when you had a stunner like Courtney on your arm.” She lifts a wineglass up and I nod.
“Absolutely. I think I’ll tell her at Christmas that next season I’ll head down but only to spend time with her as father and daughter before she gets busy with social commitments. She can handle the business side where and how she sees fit.”
“Such a milestone!” She praises, placing the large, clear wineglass in front of me, filling it up with the bottle sitting on the counter.
“How’s Louie?”
“Stuck in some end of season testing with the mechanics. They’re having the hardest time working out some shitty chassis issue. I should actually suggest he reach out to Micah or Dave.”
“They are the top crew in the paddock. I’m sure they’d definitely have some insight,” I agree as three dings from the microwave compete with our conversation.
Rayna retrieves the container from the microwave and sets it in front of me with some cutlery and warns, “It’ll be hot.”
I nod, picking up the wineglass and taking a gulp.
“Do you have many plans over the weekend? Sorry if I’m encroaching.”
“No, I really don’t. With Louie doing that testing and Jill and the kids not due over for another few weeks, there’s no one to hang with.
My parents are in aged care now, and I popped over to see them this morning, but visiting them too much gets overwhelming for them, so I have to stagger my trips and Wes’ dad moved to Spain a few years ago and doesn’t like to travel during peak holiday time.
You’re actually helping me out by keeping me company.
” She raises her glass for me to clink it.
“What did you have planned this weekend?”
“I was just looking forward to heading to the beach for a surf, to be honest. Back to my summer habits.”
“You still head out at 5:00 a.m.?”
“Nah, respectable hour these days. 7:00 a.m.,” I joke.
“That’s a relief.” She remarks and looks into her wineglass, so I can take her in.
Her frame, engulfed in a grey cardigan over a basic white t-shirt and light blue jeans.
Her legs cross at the ankles as she leans back on the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen.
Hair piled up on her head with a loose elastic.
Her head lifts, and smiles when her eyes hit mine.
“When did you start riding again?” I ask, motioning to the front of the house, where her bike lies in waiting.
“Haven’t as yet. Two years ago, Javi asked if we could do a team building day on track.
I was all over the place. Couldn’t believe it had been so many years since I had been on one.
Decided to buy one and have it when I’m home.
Just to get back on it again. But I’ve not been able to actually get on it. ”
“You always loved riding. I can’t believe it took so long to get back on one.”
“Oh, you know how it is. One year rolls into another so quickly. I lost track.”
“Yes, I’m very familiar with that scenario.”
A comfortable silence surrounds us as we stare into our drinks.
“It’s a trip being in this house again,” I remark, looking around, rubbing the stubble on my jaw.
It’s been a long time since we’ve been here. Friends in this house.
“Yeah. Lots of good times we’ve had here.” She smiles, and it’s filled with fond memories. “I’m sure you’re stuffed after the eventful day. I’ll show you which room I set up for you, and please feel free to make yourself at home.”
“Thank you,” I repeat and grab my luggage and follow her to the second floor.
Walking behind her on the stairs, I give her the space of a few steps between us, which puts me in eye line with her slipper adorned feet. And not just any slippers. Some fluffy pink slippers with little bunny faces and ears at the front that flop with each foot placed on a step.
The setting sun lavishes the open landing in a blaring orange light as we reach the top of the stairs.
The beige walls doing nothing but capturing and highlighting the bright streams of light.
Rayna reaches the top step and turns around to face me, raising her hand in one direction.
“My room is there if you need anything. And your room is over here.” She gestures to the opposite side of the floor before walking towards the door.
Each door is solid wood, stained in a deep mahogany, showing red now from all the light spilling into the room. Rayna steps into the room and stands by the door to allow me in. More sunset light floods the room and hits the crisp whites and greys in the large space.
“This room has an ensuite with towels already in there. Fresh sheets and a TV if you can’t sleep.” She waves a hand by the bedside table to the remote and a charging station already set up.
“You think of everything.”
“I try.” She scratches her head under her messy bun. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She digs into her pocket and pulls out a few keys on a Triumph-branded keyring.
Eyeing the keyring with a quirked eyebrow, I jest. “I can’t be seen walking around with that keyring.”
She opens her hand for the keyring to rest on her palm, then looks over to me with a sly look on her face. “Who do you think is going to be looking so intently at this keyring this weekend? Have any stalkers I haven’t heard of yet?” She teases.
Rolling my eyes, I open my hand out for the key. “Ducati team owner with a Triumph keyring. Scandalous.”
She victoriously places the key firmly in my palm. The warmth of her fingers grazing, her long nails dragging gently across my calloused skin.
“Thank you.” I close my hand, feeling the metal bite of the jagged edge of the keys.
“Anytime, Rookie.” She smiles and pats my shoulder. “I’ll be downstairs for a bit before bed. Feel free to relax. No pressure to come down.”
She leaves. The scent of vanilla lingers in the room.
Running my hand down my face, I decide on a shower.