The January Wish (7 page)

As designated driver, Sylvia delivered everyone to their respective homes at the end of the night, and lastly, Larissa. Her fiancé, Luke was at his buck’s night. Larissa said he’d be crashing at a mate’s house, and hoped he wouldn’t end up tied to a tree in the middle of nowhere with his eyebrows shaved and wearing nothing but an adult nappy.

‘Thanks for driving us all, hun,’ Larissa said as Sylvia walked her inside. ‘And thanks for not letting me overdo the champers!’

Despite Sylvia’s persistent asking if anyone wanted a refill, she managed to keep Larissa from having too much bubbly after Larissa had stressed how she didn’t want a repeat of her engagement party, where she’d thrown up during her father’s speech. It was the alcohol of course, but as the embarrassing event occurred right when he’d got talking about Larissa and Luke producing a Toyota Tarago full of grandchildren, who could really be sure?

‘I hope you enjoyed the night, Riss. I did,’ said Sylvia.

‘I
know
you did! Who are you and what have you done with my friend?’ She forced open Sylvia’s jaw and peered inside. ‘Hello! Sylvia, are you in there?’

‘Stop it, you!’ Sylvia gently slapped her on the arm.

‘Can I take off this God-awful thing now?’ Larissa tugged at her Bride-To-Be tiara, trapped in her hairsprayed hair. ‘Ouch!’ When she finally pulled it from the top of her head, her hair looked like Cameron Diaz’s in the movie
There’s Something About Mary
.

Sylvia covered her mouth but laughter escaped, and only intensified when she led Larissa to the hall mirror to show her the post-tiara hairdo. They both sunk to the floor, Sylvia’s belly aching from laughing so much. Then something surprising happened. Sylvia felt her stomach muscles contracting again, but not from laughter. Bubbles of emotion fizzed up inside, finally reaching her eyes which stung like she’d accidentally squirted them with lemon juice. Tears flooded her face, and sobs replaced the laughter.

Larissa’s laughter subsided, and she looked at Sylvia with concern. ‘Are you…crying?’

Sylvia nodded, as more tears joined the deluge.

‘What…what’s wrong?’ Larissa shuffled along the floor to sit next to Sylvia.

Sylvia tried to speak, but every time she opened her mouth the sobs got a head start. She forced a breath of composure, not sure how long it would last, and blurted out everything that was on her mind. ‘I met her! I met Grace and she fainted and we had dinner but before that Richard found out and dumped me so I went out and I met Mark and I ate too much cake and now we work together and I’m so upset about Richard but then I started thinking of Mark and shaving cream and tomorrow I’m seeing Grace again but—‘

‘Whoa! Sylvia, slow down!’ Larissa placed her hands over Sylvia’s cheeks. ‘Take a breath…good,’ she said while demonstrating a deep breath. ‘Okay now, who’s Mark, who’s Grace, and…oh my God, Richard dumped you? Why didn’t you say anything before?’

‘I didn’t want to spoil your night,’ Sylvia said, sniffing.

‘Hey, you shouldn’t have worried about that; you should have called me as soon as it happened, I would have come over.’ Larissa pulled Sylvia close to her. ‘So what happened, why did he break up with you?’

‘He didn’t want to be with someone who had children,’ Sylvia replied.

‘But you don’t have…hang on, what, you mean he found out what happened all those years ago and held that against you?’

‘Not exactly, sort of, um…’ Sylvia took another deep breath and turned her body to face Larissa. ‘Grace. She’s my daughter. She found me, two days ago. And we had dinner last night.’ A lone tear dribbled down to join the moist gloss over Sylvia’s cheeks. ‘I met my baby.’

‘Oh my God. Sylvia, I can’t believe it.’ Larissa slumped against the wall. ‘What’s she like?’

Sylvia smiled. ‘She’s beautiful.’

They spoke for a long time, reminiscing about their high school days, and Sylvia shared everything she’d learned about Grace so far. Larissa convinced Sylvia to stay at her place for the night, since it was technically morning anyway, and set her alarm to make sure Sylvia would have time to dash home and get showered and ready for her day with Grace.

‘Oh hey, you didn’t say who Mark was.’ Larissa looked quizzically at Sylvia.

‘Oh yeah, I met him at Café Lagoon the night Richard and I broke up, and the next day he turned up at work.’

‘As a patient?’

‘No, a colleague. He does alternative medicine,’ Sylvia stated.

‘Cool.’

‘Cool?’

‘Yeah, I might book in for an appointment. Maybe he can give me something to keep calm on the big day.’

‘I doubt it.’ Sylvia crossed her arms.

‘Do you have something against this guy?’

‘No, I just prefer my system of medicine, that’s all. Plus, there’s something about him that irritates me, he seems so perfect and together, I don’t know,’ Sylvia said.

‘Is he nice to you?’

‘Well, yes, but—‘

‘Does Joyce seem to like him?’

‘Yes, but—‘

‘Is he hot?’

Sylvia stared at Larissa for a moment, aware of her sneaky game. Then she licked her finger and touched it to her arm, making a sizzling sound with her tongue.

‘So you like him, hey?’ Larissa poked Sylvia’s ribs.

‘No, of course not. Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean I like him.’ Heat flushed Sylvia’s face.

‘Okay, fair enough. I won’t pry any further. C’mon, let me set you up in the spare room.’ Larissa linked her arm under Sylvia’s and helped her up.

Sylvia wouldn’t be hung-over in the morning, but she felt the thick fog of exhaustion seeping through her body.

Larissa turned over the sheets on the spare bed and fluffed the pillow, then paused. ‘So what was that thing you mentioned, about…shaving cream?’

Sylvia’s flush returned. ‘Don’t ask.’ She smiled as she hopped into the bed and pulled the sheet over her face.

A glorious summer morning greeted Grace through the window of the caravan. Lush green leaves dancing about in the breeze, the sky an intense cobalt, and the salty smell of the ocean enticed her to the beach for a swim. Well, if you could call it that. She wasn’t used to swimming in the ocean; growing up in the heart of Melbourne meant she was limited to the occasional seaside holiday with her parents. But she enjoyed it nonetheless, wading into the water, feeling the pull of the wave as it receded to its source, and relishing the cool caress of the water on her hot sun-kissed skin.

She giggled along with some children nearby when each new wave approached. They would try to run away from it, but she walked into it, each splash enlivening her, waking her.
What would it be like to live here all the time?
If she did, she’d probably come to the beach every morning; it was a great way to wake up and start the day.

Grace’s eyes soaked up the vast expanse of blue surrounding her, and she wasn’t sure where the ocean finished and the sky began. It was all connected. Up to her right, the famous ‘Tarrin’ sat proudly on the headland. The brochure she’d read said the town was named after the unique ‘Earth Man’ rock formation, which naturally resembled a man’s face. Years of waves gone before had sculpted cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a protrusion that looked like a nose. It was amazing, actually, that a random natural phenomenon could produce something that appeared to be sculpted on purpose.

After a few minutes, Grace walked back up the hill to the caravan park, took a quick shower and got dressed into denim shorts and a white t-shirt. Now that it looked like she might be here for a while yet, she’d have to buy more clothes. Hopefully the markets would have some inexpensive options.

By eleven, Grace stood at the Wishing Fountain in Miracle Park, reading the plaque nearby.

‘Hi Grace.’ Sylvia approached, her eyes slightly bloodshot.

‘Oh hi, I wish I’d known about this Wishing Festival thing, I could have come here earlier for that and made a wish!’

‘Not to worry, maybe next year, huh?’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ she replied.

‘Hey, I was thinking we should probably exchange phone numbers,’ Sylvia said, scratching her ear and alternating her stance to her other foot.

‘Sure,’ Grace whipped out her phone from the canvas satchel strapped diagonally across her chest. She punched in Sylvia’s number, and Sylvia did the same on her phone.

‘So, is there anything in particular you’d like to look at, or will we just wander around?’ asked Sylvia, turning her head from one side to the other.

She’s probably seen all these stalls a million times. I hope she doesn’t mind being here.

‘I’m happy to wander, although I’d love to get some new clothes somewhere.’

‘There’s a lot of bargains here, let’s see what we can find, shall we?’ Sylvia smiled, and Grace’s heart warmed. Here she was, enjoying the summery ambience of the markets, and shopping with her biological mother.

She remembered shopping with Maria, the only mother she’d known and loved all her life, and buying her first bra. Her mother had to fight back tears when the shop assistant rang it up and handed Grace the plastic shopping bag. Grace couldn’t wait to get home and put it on, so much so, she even took a raincheck on her mother’s offer of taking her to her favourite dress shop. At that stage, Grace knew she was adopted, but it didn’t concern her all that much as she’d grown up knowing the truth since she was little. In fact, when she was younger she assumed that all children were adopted, and that parents simply picked the kids they wanted from an orphanage. After asking just about every child in her kindergarten class when they were adopted, David and Maria Forrester were advised by teachers to explain the situation a little better to their daughter.

As she got older, Grace of course wanted to know if they knew anything about her birth mother, and why she’d given her up. Her parents said that she was too young to be able to care for her properly and give her a good life, and she loved Grace enough to give her to a couple who couldn’t have children of their own.

Our special little angel
they’d called Grace since she was little.

‘Oh, those tops are awesome!’ Grace seemed pulled to one of the clothing stalls like a paperclip to a magnet. She lifted and turned the tops on the rack, and held some up to her body in front of a mirror. ‘Only ten bucks each, wow!’

In no way concerned with passers-by, she lifted her t-shirt off right there, revealing a spaghetti-strap singlet beneath. Grace pulled a top over her head and turned side to side in the mirror. ‘What do you think?’ she asked Sylvia.

Sylvia seemed taken aback. ‘I um, I think…it suits you,’ she replied.

‘Good. I’ll have four of these,’ she said to the salesperson, while lifting the top over her head and replacing it with her own. The tops were cotton, with an over-layer of mesh sewn haphazardly in different angles across the front. Grace chose the pink, blue, white, and silver tops, and handed forty dollars to the sales person.

‘Listen, if there’s anything else you want, or need, I’m happy to buy it for you,’ Sylvia said quietly.

Grace flicked her hand. ‘Oh, you don’t have to do that. Thanks though, I appreciate it.’

‘Well, if you ever do need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Grace smiled, and they walked to the next stall, a homemade food stall, where Sylvia picked up four bottles of chilli and tomato relish.

They wandered for another half hour or so, grabbed a bite to eat, then Grace found another stall she wanted to check out.

‘How cool, I’m going to do it!’ Grace said, as she eyed the fancy equipment and saw a person walk away thanking the stallholder, grasping a large photo. ‘I’ve always wanted to try iridology! Do you mind?’ Grace’s eyes queried Sylvia’s.

‘Um sure, go ahead. But while you’re doing that, I might just take a look at this stall over here,’ Sylvia said, walking awkwardly towards the next stall displaying knitted baby clothes and toys.

Why would she want to look at baby items?
‘Er…okay then.’ Grace eyed her curiously, until Sylvia looked at the baby items and her face became red.

‘Oops, I meant that stall…over there,’ she said, pointing to a handmade jewellery display.

‘Sylvia, long time no see.’ Grace turned around to see the man behind the iridology equipment winking in Sylvia’s direction.

‘Oh, hi Mark,’ Sylvia said, in what seemed to be a fake tone of surprise.

‘So you’ve been to this stall before, Sylvia?’ Grace asked.

‘Me? No, no, Mark and I work at the same clinic.’

‘Oh, right. Cool.’ Grace smiled and walked up to Mark, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Grace. I’d love to see what my eyes tell you.’

‘Sure, just take a seat, and rest your chin here.’ Mark pointed to something protruding from the equipment, and she settled her chin on it while he took a photo of her eyes.

‘I, ah, I’ll just be over here.’ Sylvia was obviously anxious to check out the jewellery.

‘No worries, I’ll fill you in on the secrets of my soul later!’ Grace replied. Sylvia nodded and scuttled away.

Mark fiddled with a laptop computer, and soon the irises of her eyes appeared enlarged on the screen.

‘Whoa! How weird is that?’ Grace had no idea her eyes contained that much detail. There were colours woven through her irises that she didn’t even realise were there.

Mark smiled, and examined the photo. ‘Okay, first of all, this tells me that your circulation isn’t as good as it could be. Are you prone to dizziness or fainting spells?’

Grace chuckled, nodding her head.

‘And what about cold hands and feet?’ Mark asked.

‘How did you know?’

Mark ran a finger around the dark outer rim of Grace’s irises on the computer screen. ‘This here is called a scurf rim. Most people who have this sign have poor circulation. And see these other markings,’ he moved his finger over what looked like cracks of some kind, ‘I’d say you’re also prone to muscle cramps and spasms. Do you get any leg cramps or eyelid twitches?’

Grace thought she could feel her eyelid twitching as he spoke, and then found herself rubbing her calf muscles. ‘Wow, you’re good. I always get those eyelid twitches, and once they start they’re hard to stop. What does it mean?’