Adriana's Corner

Chapter Four

It's cold.

This was the first thing to surprise me when I got here. But a different kind of cold. It's more brisk and chilly rather than wet and damp. Still, though, it's summer and it's Australia...kind of. If this is what I'm to be expecting while I'm here, then I'm really going to be regretting the contents of my suitcase.

The second thing that hit me is that Tasmania is bigger than I thought.

I had visions of a small island with mad locals who spoke funny...well, they do speak funny- Australian is funny and I learnt in a very short space of time that they do actually say 'Crikey'. A word I thought was only used by Crocodile Dundee but alas I was wrong. Other people use it, the lawyer for instance. The tired, grumpy lawyer who was wondering why I picked this particular time of night to show up. I was too busy laughing at his use of the word 'Crikey' to feel bad, though that may be the lack of sleep.

I have tried to start up a conversation with the cabby a few times to ask if they also say 'Fair Dinkum' but this cabby isn't much of a talker so instead, I've been staring out the window at the city. Again, it is actually a city. I was expecting...I don't know what I was expecting, as I had very little time to do research on the place but a fully blown city with lights and a big bridge and everything wasn't it.

I look at my watch, establishing nothing, except that it's 1.30 in the afternoon in London. No wonder I'm craving coffee. 1:30 is usually coffee number three-time for me.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?" I ask the cabby.

"11.30." he calls back. "At night." he then adds as though I haven't noticed the pitch black outside

As we crawl through the quiet street, I look down at the piece of paper gripped in my hand. While panicking over what I was about to do and ultimately the emotions that I'll be forced to deal with, I wrote myself out a step-by-step to do list.

Steps I know I can do by myself, without feeling too overwhelmed.

#1: Find Adriana's place.

#2: Find Adriana's computer

#3: Email Miles and ask what to do next.

Granted, I had to set up an email account for him and explain how to use it but it will be worth it. He told me to contact him whenever I felt the need which I'll make good use of when I need his calming influence.

It was very nice of him, though I'm wondering if I've just set myself up to hear about him and Tina getting into a relationship. She is closer to his age, they're both lovely so it wouldn't surprise me...

"This is it." The cabby says pulling me out of my thoughts. This makes me realise what my thoughts have been on and I laugh, shaking my head at myself. Why on earth am I lamenting the end of a non-existent relationship when there are far more important things going on in my life?

I look out the window at the house we've pulled up outside, of and I smile sadly.

It looks like a home. Straight off. Even though I can't see it clearly, I can already tell it's lived in, homey, warm...the opposite to mine.

I get out of the taxi with my one suitcase and just look at it for a while. The little things are catching my attention. There's a letter box which I'm weirdly excited about. Nothing makes a person feel more at home than checking their letterbox. There's a hose strewn across the lawn...there's a lawn! There may even be a garden...not that I can see anything in this light.

After paying the cabby, I make my way up the path and to the front door. The house is cream weatherboard and the door bright yellow, which from a real estate point of view doesn't make sense. Good thing I'm not in real estate anymore.

It feels strange walking into a house that is so clearly not mine. A house I should have come to ages ago but didn't.

"Sorry, I'm late," I whisper, letting go of my suitcase. I turn on the light and a bright home lights up. I'm not looking at this like I usually look at houses. I usually notice the structure, where the light comes in and how space is being used. But again, it's the little things: the stools at the kitchen bench that are faded and worn. There are knick-knacks that don't go together sitting proudly on shelves. The sofa looks like it's actually been sat in more than twice. It's nothing like what I thought I'd like. Nothing is symmetrical or polished or perfect but I wouldn't change any of it. Something strange considering I couldn't handle one dirty mug in the sink at my place.

This is when I see the letter with my name on it on the kitchen bench, fooling me with it's innocent while envelope. This will do nothing for the guilt, I can just tell.