Chapter 1
Eva
FIFTEEN YEARS, FOUR MONTHS AND TWO DAYS LATER
Numbers are my favourite thing in the whole world, which is ironic, given they can apparently determine your life and your choices, and thus far, mine have sucked.
Numerology, the clear belief that each life event corresponds to a numeral, is an interesting phenomenon and while I can’t say I am about to preach my conversion to the mythical being of digits, my numerical life-path has been fairly accurate.
Four.
I have a numerical life-path number of four.
Pre-determining that I, Evangeline Judith Micallef, am practical, loyal and straightforward. Things I feel are accurate.
But if we inverse this theory, our answer is the belief that as a number four, I am also argumentative, rigid and bossy. Traits my family may agree with, but I would, ironically, debate.
My passion for numbers started as a child. It was a habit, a fixation, where I would count letters, words, names. This turned into a love for all things maths which then led to my studying for four years at university and graduating with Honours in a business and finance degree.
Yes, there’s that number again.
Thus far though, I am more aligned with the number zero.
A number which is neither negative nor positive unless it is in direct reference to the amount of money in my bank account – which shock horror – is zero.
And nearing the end of my degree, the number of interviews or job offers I’ve received is also zero.
Four letters in the word zero. Clean, equal although unsurprisingly disappointing otherwise.
As is the timeline I am currently on - I have a few months to find a place to hire me for a minimum of six weeks, or I will be forced to pay back my student loans rather than be able to reap the benefits of the scholarship I received.
And I’m certain zero minus twenty thousand is a negative number I do not want my account to reflect.
When I agreed to the terms prior to commencing my studies, accepting the fine print seemed feasible and was, up until now, something I’d been able to manage.
Maintain a Distinction average in all courses, complete an annual practicum at a location of their choosing and source and complete a minimum six weeks of work experience.
All criteria which seemed both attainable and so far in the future I could agree with no recourse.
Only now, I was running out of time.
Four months. The dreaded four again.
The final criteria was proving harder than anticipated, despite applying for every possible location and it wasn’t allowed to be with a family business, which eliminated my idea to work at my brother’s bar or nightclub.
Pity, as it could have solved my other current problem - securing me a place to live now Mum and her partner Toby had decided moving in together was top of their bucket list and needed to be done yesterday.
If I really needed to I could stay, but surprising no one, I didn’t want to be around for that.
Plus, I was thirty-two and still living at home, it was beyond time for me to sort out my life, starting with a place of my own.
Although, the sweet ride of paying no rent had been blissful while it lasted.
Grabbing my diffuser, I threw my head forward and began the tedious task of trying to calm my mane.
I kept it shorter than I would like but only because it was a workout trying to wash and straighten these thick, plush curls.
I didn’t have time to spend two hours straightening it on a good day, but especially tonight as Seb would be here soon and I couldn’t be late.
If only I didn’t work up such a sweat cleaning houses, I could have better timed my wash day, but I needed every cent and that meant calling in sick was not an option.
I also couldn’t be late, because my brother was already doing me a huge favour playing escort because he hated coming home.
Found returning to the place we grew up where the memories of our absent father were strongest, triggered things he’d rather not deal with.
But ever my saviour, he also knew it was the first time I’d been out in forever.
With studying and my part time cleaning job, I didn’t have either the time or money for a social life.
Tonight was a rare exception though, because it was Arna’s bachelorette party, and given how much I loved and respected her (and, honestly, the thinly veiled threats she made if I dared to even consider skipping it), the job hunt was officially paused for the night.
With only forty-five minutes to get ready though, it was going to have to be curly hair for the win, with a clip tossed in my purse of course, because it would most definitely be thrown up within the first hour.
Racing down to his car when I heard the beep, I threw my shoes on the floor before turning to my older brother with a grin.
“Hey, Sebby, thanks for picking me up.” His hazel eyes, the same shape as my own, were shielded by his deep frown and I paused in the act of buckling my seatbelt.
“What’s wrong, do I look awful?” I wanted to buy myself something new for tonight, but money was tight and my main priority was ensuring I had enough to get home, rather than a new outfit. But the scowl which lined his features made me second guess my decision of jeans and a strapless top.
“I just wasn’t sure it was you without your normal gremlin gear.” He backed out of the driveway and pointed to the centre console where he’d placed a small bottle of wine and a glass. My nerves dissipated and I laughed at his backhanded admiration.
“Hurtful. I’m a poor university student.” Deciding to ignore the glass, I drank straight from the bottle.
“Well, it’s clear you aren’t graduating from the School of Subtlety.”
“You’re lucky I’m taking small sips.”
“Can take the girl out of Moorway…” He replied and we both laughed.
I loved my big brother all the time but none more so than in this very moment.
He knew me scarily well and not only because we were comparable on the socially awkward scale but because he knew tonight would be worse because all I’d done for the last four years was stare at a textbook.
I busted my guts to make sure I wasn’t a burden on anyone.
Paving my own way - a trailblazer if you will - but some days, I wondered why I didn’t just take him up on his offer to financially bankroll my life.
“Growing up in Moorway was a privilege!” I admonished with another quick sip of the wine.
And I meant it. Despite the dilapidated rows of tired brick units, it was a neighbourhood stitched together by hand-me-downs and shared hardship.
There was no space for judgement because everyone was living the same life fuelled by rust and resilience.
And as much as I wanted to get out, I loved our childhood home and all the quietly proud moments within those four walls.
Judith Micallef had done her very best to give Sebastian and I everything we needed and all while wearing a satin dressing gown and holding a cup of tea.
I’d never missed my father, because I hadn’t needed to.
She was both my mother and father and anything she couldn’t offer, my brother provided.
It was an upbringing I could never begrudge because no matter what happened outside, every corner of that house held laughter, arguments and the kind of love that sticks around.
Seb was the closest thing I’d ever had to a reliable man in my life.
Simple gestures, like picking me up and making sure I got to the bar tonight, had a way of steadying me, easing nerves I might’ve otherwise drowned in.
And because of him, I knew I’d never settle for a man who didn’t show he cared. Genuinely, and without being asked.
“Your perception of privilege is warped, Evs,” he grinned, but I knew he’d loved it as much as I did.
He struggled with our father’s absence more than I, probably because he’d taken on the weight of looking out for me.
And that weight, in turn, became my guilt to carry. But he also loved our childhood suburb.
“Do you like the wine?”
“It’s perfect, thanks. Is Marls excited?
” His slow smile softened his features at the mention of her name, and I grinned back.
Since he met her just over a year ago, I’d never seen him happier, and in Marlee, I’d found a best friend of my own.
With her bestie Arna, and their friend Felicity in the mix, I’d somehow ended up with a little girl gang of my own. And honestly, I felt pretty damn lucky.
Tonight, Winter was also joining us, and while I’d only met her a handful of times, she seemed like exactly the sort of person I would want to be friends with and the perfect fifth to round out our circle.
A little quieter than the vocal vibrance Marls, Arna and Flick brought, Winter was more of an observer – just like me.
It was still baffling that of all people, she was dating a high-profile footballer, given she hated attention, but her and Jack were the most adorable couple.
He was the talented, supremely good-looking defender for the Sydney Hearts Football Team, and she was the insurance specialist by day, aspiring author by night who found passion in the pages of a novel.
Theirs was a love story built on friendship and the jealousy from me was palpable whenever I was in the same room bearing witness to the unshakeable bond they shared.