Finding Thyme

by TJ Hamilton

  I bury my head in my hands and sob, weighted by the feeling of being completely ashamed of myself. Even though Nick isn’t Tom Smythe, Sally was still right, I’m not right for him. I was never going to be. Sally … I wish you were still here. How am I going to find out what happened to you? I want to run after Nick, but I don’t know where to start looking for him. I don’t even know where he really lives. Flossy comes bouncing in from all the commotion at the front door and rubs herself against my thigh. I pick her up and push my face against her soft fur.

  “I wish we were back home, Floss,” I say to her between jerking sobs.

  Her little face looks up at me with such love in her eyes. What I wouldn’t give to be at my own home right now. It was always my escape from the outside world. My sanctuary. I wish I had a pair of ruby slippers like Dorothy and could whisper “there’s no place like home” and be back there right now. The words, there’s no place like home roll continuously inside my mind and right now, that’s exactly where I want to be and that’s exactly where I’m going.

  SIX

  I put Flossy down and pick up my t-shirt off the floor and slip it back on. Straightening up again, I give myself a quick brush down.

  Rifling through my bag, I find my old house keys that Simon’s mates solicitously rescued from my apartment all those months ago. I look at them in my palm and rub my Opera House key ring that Charlie gave me. I miss my friend so much. Not being able to speak to Charlie has been like missing a limb. I’ve always needed him in my life, especially when there’s a crisis. I don’t know when I’m allowed to see him again. That’s it! I’m going to find Charlie first. I don’t care what this agency’s rules are! They don’t own me!

  I lace up my Cons and put two jumpers on. I pull up the hood of the yellow jumper on top, so that it’s over my head. Grabbing some cash from the hall table drawer, I shove it in my pocket, along with my new apartment sensor and my old apartment’s keys. With Nick’s words rolling around inside my head, I slide my sunglasses on.

  “Your every move is being watched,” I say to myself as I slip out the front door and down the fire escape stairs a little easier than I anticipated. I run down ten flights of stairs and try to enter level sixty-two but the door is locked.

  There’s a sensor next to the door, but I want to avoid using anything that will track me. I run down another four flights of stairs and decide I’ve had enough. I swipe the sensor to level fifty-eight and the door clicks open. I figured they’d have seen me on the elevator cameras anyway so I’m already being tracked.

  I wait anxiously for the elevator to arrive. I look around and find three cameras around the floor’s foyer. They are bound to see me.

  The elevator springs open and it’s full of people. I search the faces to see if there’s anyone I recognise. No one is familiar at all. I step inside and stand sideways to watch everyone in the lift. Two of the people look agitated and shuffle nervously as I stare at them.

  The elevator swiftly arrives on the ground level and I wait for everyone else in the lift to exit before I do. The massive foyer of the building is teeming with people. This is going to be harder than I thought. I scan around the space and try and pick who will follow me.

  There is a blond man in a suit reading a paper on the low black leather bench seat lining the far wall of the foyer. Too obvious! It’s got to be someone else.

  As I approach the automatic glass doors at the entrance, I gaze into the reflection of the glass and see the man reading the newspaper react. He looks up, towards me.

  Damn it … it is him. I pick up my pace and walk down the block towards George Street. When I get to Hungry Jacks on the corner of George Street and Liverpool Street, I side-step into the store and wait near the second entrance across the other side, to see if the man is still following me.

  As soon as I see him approach the store, I turn and walk briskly up George Street, dodging the countless oncoming pedestrians on the wide footpath. I head straight for the underground shopping level that leads to Town Hall train station.

  I take a quick glance behind me and see that two other men in suits have joined the blond and all have their eyes fixed on me. Shit! I quicken my pace so that I’m almost running.

  As I hit the entrance of the underground level, I duck sideways into a clothing store and slip in between a full rack of clothes and watch the three men pass the shop without stopping. I step back out of the store and see the men still walking in the opposite direction towards Town Hall station. I head out and cross busy George Street as soon as there’s a small break in the flow of traffic. I walk up to the bus stop outside of Town Hall and wait for the next bus to Circular Quay, scanning the street as I wait inside the shelter of the bus stop.

  The bus arrives within minutes and I quickly jump on. As soon as I take a seat, I spot one of the men step out of an entrance to the underground Town Hall station; he sees me at the same time. I move to a seat at the rear of the bus and watch them hail a cab and again, they follow behind me. I just can’t seem to shake these guys! I move to a seat at the front of the bus and take off my yellow jumper.

  Underneath I have a black cable-knit jumper. It’s long so I roll it down past my butt. I just wish I thought of something to cover my bright blonde crop of hair on top of my head. Hopefully they don’t realise I now have short hair!

  Several people all stand around the bus doors, waiting to get off at the next stop. I figure now is as good a time as any to get off the bus. Going with the whole “safety in numbers” theory, I hope that I can hide amongst the group of people.

  The bus stops and I walk off in the middle of the group and follow them into the Queen Victoria building. As soon as I reach one of the large pillars at the entrance, I stop and watch the cab with the men in it continue following the bus down George Street.

  I look up at the lamppost in front of me and see one of the city’s many cameras that line the sidewalks. I need to stay underground as long as possible. I make my way to the lowest level of the Queen Victoria building and follow it along underground until I hit Pitt Street Mall. Opposite to where I stand is the agency’s building. I’m right back at the agency HQ! Damn it!

  I walk under the awnings of shops along the mall until I get to the Strand Arcade. I need to cover this bright hair and I know just the place to go. I make my way down the arcade to the famed Strand Hatters.

  The shop is lined to the ceiling with a library of hats, complete with a wooden ladder to reach the top shelves. Every make of hat known to man sits waiting to be tried on and bought.

  A short man with the brightest whitest teeth greets me as I step into the store. His beatnik style of black-framed glasses, goatee and round porkpie hat suits the store’s vibe.

  “How can I help you?” he asks as I run my hands over the brim of the hanging hats.

  “I need a hat.”

  “Well, you have certainly come to the right place.” The man bursts out laughing. “Here. Is this what you’re looking for? Goes perfect with your outfit,” he says as he places a patchwork Irish hunting hat on my head.

  I look side to side in the mirror and like what I see. I never thought of wearing a hat like this before and it’s perfect.

  “I’ll take it.” I smile at him.

  “Easiest sale ever!” The man bursts out laughing again.

  I’m not quite sure what he’s laughing at exactly but I go along with him and chuckle as I hand over cash for the hat. I leave the store as quick as I entered it and make my way to the top of the mall and hail a taxi.

  “Opera House please,” I say as I slide onto the back seat.

  I continue watching out of the rear window for anyone following until we reach the bottom entrance of the Opera House. No one has followed me.

  I pay the driver and head towards the small stage door office where I usually go to find Charlie. An average-looking young girl with mousy brown hair and black wire spectacles looks up from the small desk and smiles.

  “Hi, I’m after C
harlie Manetti,” I say with a friendly smile.

  The girl picks up a phone and holds it to her chest. “And could I get your name please?” she asks sweetly.

  I think for a moment, wondering if I should actually use my real name or not. I don’t care anymore. What is the OCT-U agency going to do if they find me here anyway? Drag me back to my tower and lock me up again? What am I really worried about? Why was I in such a hurry to run from the agents? Force of habit, maybe. I smile to myself, when I think about how thrilling it was to try and lose them anyway.

  “Mia Thyme,” I say loud and proud.

  The girl speaks into the phone and looks back up at me and frowns. She tilts her head to the side and says, “No, I don’t think so. Okay, thank you.” She places the phone back onto the receiver and looks at me serenely. “Charlie has had to return to Italy for family reasons and will be back at the end of the month.”

  I wonder whether this may be some cock-and-bull story about Charlie being away like last time. There would be no reason for the girl to lie though. I can always double check the story. Plus Charlie’s father has been sick for a while now.

  My poor little flamboyantly fabulous gay best friend of nearly seven years. I hope his father is okay, albeit for slightly selfish reasons. I need him to be there for me like he always is. I just wish he were around right now.

  I turn to leave and the girl speaks again. “There was a guy in here looking for you just before. My supervisor will call him if he sees you,” she quickly says before she pulls her lips together, as if she has said something wrong.

  I smile and nod at her before turning and walking away again.

  In the lush green botanical gardens on my way to my Paddington apartment, everything seems all encompassing and I feel very alone all of a sudden. So alone that the city could just swallow me up and no one would even care.

  Sally is dead, Charlie is away, Nick walked out on me and god knows where in the world my brother Simon might be. Not that I can contact Simon anyway. That would be the first place Nick would look for me, if he looks at all. Oh no, that’s right … They need my services, so he will have to come looking for me eventually.

  I drag my feet across the white gravelled footpath of the botanical gardens, roaming towards my home at a snail’s pace. Twenty minutes later, my mood feels better as I approach the top of my street.

  The huge green elm trees that line either side of the street are a much-needed familiar sight. The big green leaves that stretch out on the fat bushy branches all seem to sing in the sunlight as a celebration towards the season of spring. The bright streets seem to come alive after winter and it almost makes me want to sing … well normally it would if I didn’t hate the world.

  My three-storey apartment block is in sight. I walk with a little more purpose now. Before going inside the art-deco door at the entrance, I look up and down the street. No one is around. I don’t know if anyone would even be looking for me now.

  The familiar squeak of my key entering the lock brings a smile to my face. I open the door and smell the mustiness that has taken over the abandoned space. My beloved apartment is completely bare. I slowly take a few steps inside and close the door behind me. It feels like no one has been here for years. Maybe coming back wasn’t such a good idea.

  The bright afternoon sun shining through my bedroom window casts a spotlight over all the floating dust particles in the air. I pull the blind down and walk through to the kitchen. I drag my hand along the countertop as I walk around the room, trying to find something familiar to hold onto in my mind.

  My beautiful apartment. What have they done to you? It doesn’t feel like there is any life in the place anymore. I walk through to the lounge area and finally find something to bring back a nice memory: the fireplace. I close my eyes and remember the night Nick first came over here, when he was Tom, sweet Tom Smythe. I shake my head. Sweet Tom felt just as confusing back then too. I lean on the mantelpiece above the fireplace and look down, remembering how Nick had lit the fire and placed the rug in front.

  Now things are just one big mess. I drag a folded drop sheet over in front of the fireplace and sag down onto it. Tears spill down my cheeks and drip like a leaking tap. I no longer suck back tears, I let them pour out. I just feel empty. Empty and alone. Now there is no Nick, and no possibility of getting my old life back. This is not how I imagined this to play out.

  There are some leftover logs stacked on either side of the fireplace. I make my way into my kitchen and find a box of matches and do my best to light the fire. It doesn’t catch so I go in search of some old newspapers somewhere. I find an old phone book from four years ago and rip all of the pages out and throw them into the fireplace. When the fire finally takes, I lie down on the drop sheet and curl up.

  I watch the flames flicker and lap at the edge of the wood in brilliant colours of orange and gold. The tears continue to roll out from my eyes but I don’t sob. They just stream out in pure sadness. I close my eyes and wish the day would just be over. Finally the torment of reality is taken over with the serenity of sleep.

  I feel my hair being touched. My eyes spring open and I turn to see the blue of Nick’s eyes as he smiles beside me, right next to the fireplace.

  “Hey,” he says softly as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  Tears spring out and trickle down my face at the very sight of him.

  “Mia, I am so sorry.” Nick wipes the tears away with his thumb then rubs it along my bottom lip. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  I don’t ask questions, because right now this is all that matters.

  SEVEN

  Nick’s large hand easily cups the side of my face and his lips trail slow light kisses along my neck to my ear.

  He softly runs his nose along the outer rim of my ear, sending a flash of goose bumps to spring out over my body. I hold onto his left hand and bring it to my mouth and kiss his palm gently. His big strong hands make mine seem tiny in comparison. He pushes our clasped hands back so that they’re next to my head on the drop sheet as he leans up onto his other arm.

  The orange glow from the fire casts a constant flicker of light across his beautiful face, making him look all the more serene. His gentle eyes don’t leave mine as he smiles and runs his hand down the side of my face again. I don’t ask him how he found me, I’m just glad he did. I need him more than I care to believe right now.

  He brushes away the longer bits of hair from my face and kisses me again, our tongues softly stroking one another. I roll sideways and he pulls my top leg up around him so that we’re pressed against one another, kissing and touching in a sweet side embrace.

  This is right where I want to be, in Nick’s arms and away from the world, or anyone watching. He reaches around to my backside and pulls me tightly to him, pushing himself into me at the same time.

  I feel the full hard length of him with each grind that he makes and he feels bigger than expected. He slowly rolls over me and kneels back onto his knees. Tucking his fingers under the hem of my jumper and t-shirt, he slowly lifts them both up and then bends down to press his lips to my belly. His nose softly brushes across my skin as his lips continue to glide over my increasingly exposed flesh. I grip onto the back of his shirt and feel across his bulging muscles.

  I try not to be discouraged by the thoughts of déjà vu, this being as far as we got last time. Nick flicks open the button of my jeans and I sigh with relief, hoping that I passed the sigh off as heavy breathing. I don’t think I could deal with being rejected twice by Nick, and certainly not in one day! He slowly unzips my fly and tugs at my jeans to pull them from my thighs. Our eyes lock onto one another, unable to leave for even a moment.

  I unbutton his shirt until it hangs loosely around him. My fingertips ripple down his strong muscular torso. I finally peel my eyes from his and take in the magnificent glimpse of his body above me. He is more tanned than I remembered, especially for this time of year. Maybe it’s the glow of the fire? Not that I’
m complaining at all. Nick pulls me up to him, my legs easily sliding around his waist.

  While I’m upright and pressed against him, he reaches around and unhooks my bra with ease and slides the straps off my shoulders. I hear him draw a long breath as he exposes my breasts, tossing my bra aside. His eyes are full of a burning desire that matches the flaming fire beside us. He guides me back to the floor and runs his smooth hands gently over me.

  Nick leans down and buries his face in my cleavage and then inhales as he makes his way to the tips of my ample breasts, softly rolling his tongue around my nipples. The feeling of his lips and tongue wrapped around them makes me want to rip his clothes off and force him to plunge into me, and it takes me every bit of restraint not to do so.

  All of our movements are in slow motion … but I don’t mind, I want to savour every second. I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment. Nick runs his tongue all the way back up to my lips, pushing deep into my mouth as he reaches down and pulls my underwear off. I rub my foot down my leg to remove my underwear and reach down for the button of Nick’s jeans.

  He grabs my hand and forces it back above my head. “I want to see all of you first,” he says into my ear as he leans beside me. I can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks and can’t help but grin too.

  His eyes search over my body as he takes it all in. His hands feeling all over me like a blind man reading braille. The unfamiliar feeling of being adored rather than objectified by a man paralyses my senses and all I can feel is the tingle of excitement coursing throughout my body.

  “I want to know every inch of you,” he says as his finger trails down my stomach. “Every freckle. Every hair … every inch …” Nick runs his fingers across the rounded top of my pubic bone, where hair normally would be. He looks up from my body and our eyes meet once again. His brow rises with delight and I beam with joy back at him as an unspoken conversation plays out between us about the lack of hair in my pubic region. He’s discernibly pleased about it.