Ollie decided to go into the library and waited for a response to his text message. As the clock ticked by Ollie’s heart sank. Half an hour went by and then an hour went by. Ollie looked at his phone for the umpteenth time. No message.
Ollie had collected several graphic novels in the library to keep his mind off his sinking heart.
Maybe something had happened to Silver Fox. A medical emergency? Or even a family emergency. Ollie was too aware this could happen anytime, without notice.
Then a text message came through at 3:55pm:
“Sorry Ollie, I was having lunch with my friend Graham. We had so much fun and time just went by. Will be there in ten minutes.”
Ollie was seething. Silver Fox clearly preferred to spend the time with his friend Graham than Ollie. Ollie had to grapple with this information. Were not Ollie and Silver Fox boyfriends? Ollie was experiencing another rush of anger and did not know how to handle this or rein this back.
Ollie made his way down the library lift and waited for Silver Fox to arrive.
Silver Fox sauntered up to Ollie to give him a hug. Ollie flinched.
“You kept me waiting for almost two hours!” said Ollie, trying to contain the angry edge to his voice.
“I’m sorry Ollie. My bad!” said Silver Fox with a chuckle.
“You think this is a joke?” said Ollie.
Ollie was faced with a conundrum. He needed Silver Fox to be happy but he was furious with Silver Fox for not making him feel like he was a proper boyfriend. He took second place to Silver Fox’s friend, to Silver Fox’s social life. The painful thought crossed Ollie’s mind that maybe Silver Fox was not in love with him and did not really care for him. Ollie began to feel horrified. He had given his all to Silver Fox, who was merely there taking every ounce of Ollie’s energy in the relationship. The more Ollie thought about this, he realised that Silver Fox was not reciprocating. Ollie discerned that Silver Fox had a secure wall hiding his true emotions, which could not be broken down. And this anger! It was so strong! It seemed capable of extinguishing all of his loving feelings for Silver Fox.
“Look let’s have a coffee and settle down,” said Silver Fox.
Silver Fox and Ollie went to a café nearby. There was small talk, but Ollie was dejected and only half-listening.
“Silver Fox, why didn’t you tell me that were going to be late?” asked Ollie. “You know I really look forward to seeing you.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry. Life gets in the way,” said Silver Fox.
“Aren’t I part of your life?” asked Ollie.
Silver Fox stayed silent.
“I’m going to go home,” said Ollie as he got up. “I’m not in the mood for being with you at this point in time.”
Ollie then left the café and headed to the train station.
“Earth calling to Ollie,” Jane said as she tried to gain Ollie’s attention.
Ollie snapped to attention.
“Why did you say no? This could have been your chance,” said Jane exasperatedly.
“I’m just not ready,” said Ollie and started serving the next customer.
Chapter 22
Saturday, 2 June – 9.55 am
Rosie stepped out of her red Hyundai and found herself surrounded by university students who were laughing with friends, or walking alone on their way to the library. Rosie looked down at her phone as she checked the address for her writing workshop. She crossed City Road and was standing on Eastern Avenue and saw that she had a couple of buildings to navigate her way through. She then continued walking, holding onto her satchel bag. She made her way through the quadrangle and soon found the correct building. Rosie walked up the stairs of the campus building and saw a sign leading the way to the workshop, “Writing for Writers with Writer’s Block”.
She held onto her satchel bag, which held a few of her own journals to show the workshop instructor, and walked into the room.
“Hello, I’m the instructor, Zinnia. You’re here for the writing workshop?”
“Yes, my name is Rosie.”
“Welcome, Rosie, so you’re experiencing writer’s block,” asked Zinnia.
“Oh yes, I used to love writing. I even brought my journals to show you,” said Rosie motioning to her satchel bag. “I got married and before you know it, I got divorced. I’m just hoping to find the creativity again. I don’t know where it went.”
“You’ve come to the right place, Rosie. Please sit anywhere in the classroom and we’ll start shortly,” said Zinnia.
Rosie smiled at the several students already settled in at their desks. Rosie found a spare desk and placed her satchel bag down on the ground. Rosie took out a small pencil case and a notepad. Several more people entered the room and Zinnia marked their names off the attendance sheet. Soon, Zinnia went to close the door and faced the class.
“Welcome to this workshop everyone! Today we will hopefully unlock your writing potential. This topic is close to my heart as I started out as an author in my 30s and had written several books but then I found myself unable to write a word down in a new creative project. And it stayed like that for almost twenty years,” said Zinnia.
Rosie looked around the group and saw that they were a mixture of men and women in their fifties and sixties. Rosie appeared to be the youngest in the group. They all attentively followed Zinnia’s words.
“The reason I found that I could no longer write was that I was paralysed by personal events that happened to me. These personal events, which included illness and family circumstances, really sapped the life out of me. Writing as a process demands undistracted focus,” continued Zinnia.
Rosie was feeling Zinnia’s words resonate within herself.
“So I will share with you my secrets on how I learnt to overcome this paralysis. I started to finally write and succeeded in writing novels once again. So, I see that you all have your pen and paper. Please now write down the five things that matter most to you,” instructed Zinnia.
Five things that matter the most to me? thought Rosie. Rosie poised her pencil over her paper. She wrote down “Job” as she knew she loved being a nurse. Then she wrote “Woolloomooloo unit” as she loved her terrace. Rosie pondered on what to write for the next three items. She wrote “Love” but scribbled that out. Rosie then wrote “Marriage” and looked incredulously at why she would include this word on the list. She scribbled this word out as well. Rosie looked around the group. She still felt no further inspiration. She saw that everybody in the group had finished their lists as they began to put their pens down and looked expectantly up at Zinnia. Tears welled up In Rosie’s eyes.
“By writing a very short list, we’re starting with a small step. We will go around the group and read out the top five things that matter most to you,” said Zinnia.
Rosie quietly put her pencil in the pencil case and put the pencil case and notepad into her satchel bag.
“The top five things for me are my children, my wife, my parents, my running group and my volunteer work,” a man in his early fifties read out.
“That’s a good start, Ben,” said Zinnia. “Oh, Rosie, are you all right?”
Rosie had gotten up from her desk and put the satchel bag over her shoulder.
“You don’t need to finish the exercises. Observing the workshop is perfectly fine,” said Zinnia as she sensed Rosie’s distress.
“Sorry, I have to go,” said Rosie as she walked to open the door and left the classroom.
Chapter 23
Wednesday, 6 June – 8:55 pm
It was late evening and Iris was looking out through the upstairs windows out onto the street below. It was fairly quiet with only several cars making their ways to the eastern suburbs or to the city. This was Iris’s favourite thing to do in the evenings. She liked the neon ambience of the nearby stores and the gentle hum of cars passing by. She enjoyed the people-watching as well, seeing corporate workers walking to their homes and joggers with their backpacks puffing their way into better fitness
. It calmed her down enormously. It was a beautiful way to wind down at the end of a busy day in the floral shop. Iris felt content for once, a feeling she had not felt for a long time. She was excited to see Ollie tomorrow, who was happy to make flower deliveries. She gave a yawn and closed the curtains. She climbed into her bed and was ready to float away into a deep sleep.
In the faint distance, there was a sound of tyres screeching. Iris raised her eyebrows. Then all of a sudden there was a loud smash. Iris bolted upright in bed. That sounded really close, Iris thought. She ran to the living area window but not before there was another screech of tyres. There was little traffic and Iris couldn’t see any cars. Iris put on her scarf, bath robe and slippers and walked quickly down the stairs when she felt a large draught of cool air on the ground. Iris gasped. Her storefront window was completely smashed through. Shards of glass were all over the wooden floors. The streetlights poured in refracted light. And then she saw the hunched hooded figure standing on the pavement. Iris’s heart dropped further. It was the figure of Malik, holding his arms over his head in a protective gesture.
“Malik, are you okay?” Iris cried out as she walked gingerly across the shattered glass on the floor of the store, opened the store door and stepped out onto the pavement.
“I’m covered in glass. I was wearing my coat,” said Malik. “I’m lucky that I had put my hood on.”
Malik had little scratches across his face but no serious bleeding. Then Iris looked down.
“Malik your thigh!” said Iris as she saw bleeding from a cut in Malik’s left thigh. There was a lodged piece of glass. Malik carefully pulled the glass out and yelled out in pain.
“Malik, I’m going to drive you to emergency now,” Iris took off her scarf and started wrapping the scarf around the wound. “The hospital is just a few minutes away.”
Iris went back inside the store to get her keys and soon was locking the store door, leaving the shopfront window unattended. She prayed that the store would not be pillaged and plundered.
Iris beeped the van open and helped Malik into the front seat. She could see that the blood was starting to seep through the scarf. Iris clipped Malik into his seat and Iris drove within the speed limit to the nearest hospital, St Vincent’s Hospital.
Iris drove the van into the hospital entrance road and switched the engine off. Iris got out of the driver’s seat and unclipped Malik out of his seat and brought him to the attention of nursing staff at the Emergency entrance. Iris saw Malik being taken in straight away and she just realised that she had not yet called the police. Iris started dialling. An operator answered.
“Hello, my name is Iris and I own a flower store on Oxford Street, Paddington. Someone threw a rock through my shopfront window and the window is completely smashed. I had to drive my next-door tenant to hospital because some of the glass landed on Malik. The police are on their way already? We’ll be at emergency if I need to be contacted,” said Iris and provided her personal contact details. The call ended. Iris then called Pahi to explain what had happened.
“What? Why? How?” said Pahi in shock. “I’ll be over there now to help out the police. I’ll be at the store in 20 minutes.”
“Thanks Pahi. I’m going to stay with Malik and see that he is okay,” said Iris.
“Ok. I hope Malik is all right and that it’s nothing serious,” said Pahi and hung up.
Iris walked into the emergency ward and went to the head nurse.
“Can I see how Malik is going?” Iris said.
“He is currently being attended to by the emergency doctor. Are you next of kin for Malik?”
“No, I’m the next-door florist. Malik doesn’t have any family here, from what he told me,” said Iris.
“If you could be seated in the waiting room, we will let you know of any updates,” said the head nurse.
Iris sat down and held her hands together, trying not to shake. She could not understand what had happened. Iris had not been to a hospital since Roddy had died. Iris was starting to get flashbacks.
February 2013
“Mum,” said a distressed voice on the other line, “Dad’s had a heart attack!”
“What, is that you Ollie?” asked Iris as she placed down the white lilies she was preparing for a client order.
“Yes,” sobbed Ollie. “It’s my fault. Dad was giving me a driving lesson.”
“Where are you Ollie?” asked Iris.
“I’m at the emergency ward at Campbelltown Hospital,” said Ollie.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” said Iris and ended the call.
“Is everything okay?” said Pahi with a look of concern on her face.
“Roddy has had a heart attack. I’ll need to leave work. Can you cover for me?”
“Yes. No need to ask. Just as well Dahlia is on holidays. Go and take care,” said Pahi.
Iris hurried over to her car parked across the street from the florist. Iris then drove with a very dry mouth and finally drove to the hospital. She got out of the car, locked it, and went in search of the emergency ward.
She could see Ollie standing by himself, very pale and distressed. The head nurse came towards Iris and asked if she was Roddy’s partner.
“Yes, I’m his wife. That’s me,” said Iris as she saw Ollie give Iris a look of fright and self-blame.
“If you could come this way please. The surgeon will speak to you, said the head nurse. Iris and the head nurse walked along the corridor to the operating theatre where the surgeon had a grim look on her face.
“Iris. Malik is here,” said the head nurse. Iris looked up and her heart leapt with relief. Iris was so overwhelmed she gave Malik a hug. She did not know how long she was in the dazed state reliving that horrible afternoon at Campbelltown Hospital.
“They checked that there were no more foreign glass bodies in my thigh and they gave me stitches. They said I was lucky the glass didn’t go deeper. I can leave the hospital but they’ve given me instructions on how to look after the wound and change the dressing,” said Malik. “I’ve got to see this particular doctor to have the stitches taken out in a week’s time.”
Iris’s phone started ringing and Iris answered. She listened carefully and started nodding her head.
“Yes, we’ll head over there right now,” said Iris and ended the call.
“That was the police. We need to give statements. I just need to drive us to the Surry Hills Police Station,” said Iris.
Malik and Iris thanked the head nurse and they walked out of the emergency ward. Iris started walking alongside Malik who was walking slowly, being careful not to rip out the new stitches.
“Thank you, Iris,” said Malik as he was helped into the passenger seat of the flower van.
“What a terrible evening,” said Iris shakily.
“The doctor said I will heal and get better Iris,” said Malik reassuringly.
Iris then drove to the police station and Iris helped Malik out of the van. They could see the entrance with big silver letters above the door spelling “Surry Hills Police”.
Iris and Malik walked through the entrance and they were greeted by a police sergeant at the entry counter. They were then directed to wait until a detective attended to them.
Iris felt very uncomfortable in the waiting room. She felt a lot of unresolved tension as she saw other people waiting, each having distressed, uneasy and upset faces. There was muted yelling somewhere in the background.
“I’m here Iris,” said Malik. “We’re going to be all right. We haven’t done anything wrong. We have nothing to be afraid of.”
Iris looked into Malik’s gentle eyes and breathed a bit more easily.
“Hello, Iris and Malik. My name is Detective Marguerite Hibiscus. I spoke to you earlier on the phone,” said Detective Hibiscus. “Please follow me this way to the interview room.”
“Thank you for coming straight here from the hospital. I appreciate this has been an upsetting event for the both of you. To assist the police as muc
h as possible we would like to obtain statements from both of you,” said Detective Hibiscus. She then explained to Iris and Malik their rights in giving a statement.
“So are the both of you happy to give your statements orally for audio-recording? Once I have made the audio recordings I will have these typed up. When they have been transcribed I will ask you to read them for double checking,” said Detective Hibiscus.
“Sure,” said Malik.
“I’m happy with that,” said Iris.
“Okay, Malik, I will ask you to give your statement first. Iris if you could remain silent throughout the audio recording that would be appreciated,” said Detective Hibiscus as she got up and went to operate an audio-recording machine. She pressed a button and a red button blinked on.
“Good evening this is Detective Marguerite Hibiscus on Wednesday 6 June. Time is 11:57 pm. I have Malik Zahra who is giving his statement regarding a florist shop window on Oxford Street, Paddington,” said Detective Hibiscus. She motioned for Malik to begin.
“My name is Malik Zahra of Marrickville, Sydney. I was finishing a cake to get ready for tomorrow,” Malik began. “So I was staying back at work. My assistant Lian was also working on the detailing but she left an hour earlier and I said I was happy to finish the cake. So I finished the cake detailing and I locked up for the night. As soon as I was getting up to leave, I put on my hooded jacket. As I locked my cake store’s door I took a look at the nice flower display in Iris’s window. There were a lot of red flowers. I was admiring the flowers for maybe a minute or two. There wasn’t much traffic and then all of a sudden I see in the glass reflection a red car stopping suddenly. There was a loud screeching noise and I didn’t have time to turn, but I saw someone throw something against the glass and the glass shattered before I had a chance to move. I covered my head as I was hoping to protect my face. Just as well I was wearing my hood. Then the car just screeched off. I couldn’t identify the driver as the person was wearing a black balaclava. I saw this in the window’s reflection. Then Iris came down to my aid through her front door and drove me to the hospital.”
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