CHASING LIFE

by Steve Jovanoski

  Carla’s curiosity was just spurred on. ‘What kind of work do you do?’

  ‘I worked in a factory, admin stuff. I have an accounting degree, but I don’t have a job at the moment. I just took off and left.’

  ‘But what will you do for money?’ she prodded.

  ‘I sold my house, paid off the mortgage and now I’m travelling. If I budget well I should be all right. I’m hoping for a temp job—a waiter or a dishwasher would do. I don’t want my savings blown away and if I don’t find one I’m going back to Melbourne.’ What he didn’t want to admit is that he wanted to open up an Accounting practice. It had been a dream of his for a long time. The money was his and Julia’s, and he didn’t want to waste it.

  ‘No girlfriend back home?’

  ‘I was married. I’m single now.’ Dave didn’t mind the questions but he felt uncomfortable about where they might lead.

  ‘But what are you going to do?’

  ‘Will you leave him alone? The poor guy feels like he’s being interrogated,’ Sam interrupted, much to Dave’s relief. Dave realised Sam must have noticed Dave’s incessant knee shaking when the girlfriend topic was brought up.

  ‘I was just asking.’

  ‘That’s all right, I’d be curious too if I were you. To be honest, I don’t have a happy story to tell you,’ what the hell, Dave thought. ‘A few years ago my wife fell ill and passed away. It was hard on me, but life moves on.’ It was the most simplified version he’d ever told, but in black and white, that’s how it was. And that’s how it would seem to anyone outside his family circle. Carla had a look that said she was sorry for him but wanted more info.

  ‘I’m real sorry to hear that, man,’ Sam said, squeezing his shoulder. The man’s usual carefree demeanour changed, and he was all ears.

  ‘Thanks, Sam. I told you it’s not a happy story,’ Dave half smiled and tried to keep it light. He didn’t want to sully the mood with his soap opera or bring anyone else down. People didn’t usually know how to respond and he gave them a moment to think about it. Some people changed the topic after he told them about it, and others just went quiet in case they offended him by saying anything at all.

  ‘That’s terrible. How did you recover?’ Carla’s eyes were filled with sympathy.

  ‘Recover?’ He repeated the word as if he’d heard it for the first time in his life. ‘I’m a lot better now. Counselling, friends and family helped me a lot. Sooner or later you’ve got to move on.’ Dave felt like he was reading from a pamphlet. He’d heard the words so many times he knew them by heart. It was the first time he’d spoken about his experience with anyone other than his closest friends. He’d done so in front of complete strangers, in a Hong Kong club, and somehow it felt okay. His chest felt lighter.

  ‘That’s pretty heavy shit, mate. Let’s have a beer,’ Sam said, in spite of his juice-only policy that day.

  ‘I think I need one too,’ Carla said and Sam ordered a round for all of them.

  ‘Hong Kong is a great place, Dave,’ Sam continued. ‘It’s a hub that draws people with interesting stories. Some are sad, some funny. Every one of these guys that I shake hands with has an interesting reason for being here. Sometimes fate brings them here so they can be themselves without inhibitions and follow a mad dream. Some come to escape reality in an alcohol-fuelled fantasy. No matter where you go it will always be your favourite, remember that.’ Sam’s commentary made Dave feel like an honorary guest, as though the man had given him the final approval of genuine friendship.

  ‘Hey, I thought you stayed because of me!’ Carla butted in.

  ‘No darling. You stayed because of me,’ Sam said coolly and kissed her on the cheek.

  Throughout the evening, no matter how many of his patrons tried to compete for Sam’s attention, he and Carla stayed with Dave. Sam had food and drinks ordered to their table, and they talked for hours, swapping funny stories. They carried on till the last customer left the venue and the music finally stopped. He’d never gotten the chance to get drunk with his own friends and it felt good.

  They all walked out eventually, facing the morning and flinching from the light like nocturnal creatures. Sam wrapped his jacket around Carla while they waited for a taxi.

  ‘Want to share a cab?’ Sam offered.

  ‘I’m good, thanks. I’ll go for a little stroll and suck in the morning air. It feels kind of good tonight.’

  ‘This is Hong Kong. Don’t suck in too hard or you’ll choke. Hey, why don’t you come over tomorrow in the evening? We’ll have dinner at the French bistro. You know the one, on Wyndham Street,’ Sam suggested.

  ‘Sounds good. See you there.’ Dave accepted without hesitation and walked away with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. Further down the road, he kicked a squashed cola can across the empty street, like a kid on his way home from school. He watched it cling and clang across the asphalt and disappear down a drain. Apartments lit up one by one as the dawn light spread. Shopkeepers opened their rumbling roller cages and buses zoomed down the street, picking up early workers that gave the city its kick-start for another busy day.

  While crossing a side street, he came across a loud and groggy trio of young guys belting out U2 songs off-key. The three inebriates held each other for support. Had any one of them relinquished his hold, the swinging drunks would surely collapse. And so they did. They fell all over the place and rolled into the gutters, but the singing continued relentlessly. Dave lit a cigarette and leaned against a wall, watching in amusement. The pisspots got louder and he started whistling along. Slowly, they staggered on and out of view. The entertainment was over. Dave finished his cigarette and hailed a ride back to his hotel.

  The taxi dropped him off in front of Ragan Hotel. Inside the lobby he found the sleeping guard snoring away in a chair with his arms folded and legs spread out. Great security, he thought. He extended his finger to press the elevator button but then turned and looked at the man, hesitating for a moment as if he was reminded of something, then walked up to the reception desk.

  ‘Excuse me, where is the nearest travel agent?’ he asked the well-groomed man that looked more like a hairdresser than a receptionist. The man jumped out of his seat and fixed his tie. He’d been watching a soccer game on a little laptop and hadn’t noticed Dave come in. He took out a map, as they usually did, and pointed to a few travel agents in Times Square.

  ‘They will open in half hour.’ He pointed with his finger at his watch.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Will you be extending your stay, sir?’

  ‘No, I’ll be leaving today,’ Dave answered and left. The search is over, he thought. He should never have left Melbourne.

  He walked through the early-morning fish market and down an alleyway, where, luckily, the smell wasn’t yet at its peak. Fresh catch wriggled energetically in water tanks.

  ‘No way could I be falling for her,’ Dave mumbled to himself. He felt silly. Why had he acted like a teenager? It was crazy. A childish crush by an adult and brought on by excess consumption of alcohol. Ease up on the booze, will you?

  Times Square was opening for business. In the middle of the foyer a giant television screen was set up, and soccer balls hung all over the place in preparation for the soccer finals and a huge party. The travel agent was open by the time he arrived, and he sat down to talk to a pretty assistant.

  ‘Hello, how can I help you?’ she said and gave Dave a bright morning smile Dave.

  ‘Can you tell me when the next flight for Melbourne is?’

  ‘Sure, one moment please.’ The lady punched away at her keyboard searching for flights while Dave looked around. Hong Kong was getting under his skin. It was a crazy and exciting place but not for someone like him. He just wasn’t up for it anymore. He was getting older and Melbourne was safe. It was home and there everything was predictable. He’d get a job easily enough and fall back into routine.

  Could he go back into the same routine just when he got out of it? He was
so confused. He’d set out on a quest to find some kind of happiness, live moment to moment, and leave the past. But, could he cope with uncertainty? Was it better to stop before it got crazy and couldn’t deal with his own feelings? He wasn’t sure what to do. It frustrated him. Could he live his life alone? And then he thought of Erin, her face, her body, her breath on his skin. She left a permanent imprint on him in such a short time. Once that ticket was in his hand he’d never see her again. He’d never know what could have been. There was that feeling rising in his chest, excitement. He experienced it every time he thought of her. He was getting what he wanted, so why was he in a panic? Dave’s heart beat faster and his breath quickened.

  ‘Wait. Can you search for a flight to Paris instead?’ he burst out.

  ‘When would you like to go?’

  ‘When’s the next available flight?’

  Chapter 13

  Dave wheeled his suitcase into the French bistro with excitement. The ticket to Paris protruded slightly from his pocket and reminded him of his new journey. He was bumping into people and excusing himself along the way. And he was smiling at everyone for no reason. He ordered a drink and waited for Sam. He’d done it—booked himself a one–way ticket to Paris and checked out of Ragan Hotel. A long trip awaited him, and he purposely hadn’t slept; he’d save it for the long flight. Sam came into to the Bistro in his usual manner, greeting everyone but the kitchen staff: a local celebrity.

  ‘You’re leaving us?’ he asked on seeing Dave’s suitcase.

  ‘I’m off to Paris.’

  ‘Hah! You’re doing it? What changed your mind?’

  ‘Well, to be honest, I feel something when I think about Erin. I haven’t felt like this for … I can’t remember actually, for ages. So I’ll see where it leads me and this place is a good start. I love this Bistro, I can’t wait to get more of it.’

  ‘I know, it’s pretty cool. It’s a little piece of France, and that’s why I come here all the time. Carla says sorry for not being here. A head spin from the other night. She’ll be rapt when I tell her about this.’

  ‘I was hoping she would know where I could catch up with Erin. Have you guys heard from her?’

  ‘Nah, mate. The last time Carla and I were in Paris, we used to hang out at the Jazz Inn, and she would drop in and hang out with us. Do you know where you’ll be staying?’

  ‘Nope. I was gonna ask you for advice, actually,’ he said and Sam laughed.

  ‘You really are taking it casually, aren’t you? The Jazz Inn is a bar on St Germain on the edge of the Latin Quarter. Try anywhere in that area.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll look around for accommodation on the Internet at the airport.’

  ‘What time is your flight?’

  ‘Midnight.’

  ‘I know the owner at the jazz bar, his name is Vincant,’ Sam pronounced his name by prolonging the ‘a’ and wrote the address on a serviette. ‘He’s a great guy, and he’ll show you a good time, but keep an eye on him. He can be a shifty bastard, so I’m giving you a friendly warning. Tell him you’re Sammy’s friend from Hong Kong and make sure you say his name properly. He doesn’t like it when people call him “Vincent”.’ He wrote ‘Vincant’ on the serviette and pointed instructively, in a humorous way but with a note of caution.

  ‘I’ll try not to make a mockery of it.’

  ‘Have a great time.’

  ‘Thanks, I will.’

  ‘Cheers!’ Sam lifted his drink.

  ‘Cheers!’ Dave responded, taking a sip of his beer. ‘Carla is a great girl, Sam. Anyone can tell she loves you.’ Dave hoped he wasn’t being too personal. Sam took a sip of his drink and gazed out the window for a moment. His expression was quietly happy and contemplative.

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  ‘I had that. That look on your face.’ Dave looked down at his drink. ‘Some stories end too soon.’ He rubbed his ring finger unconsciously.

  ‘Here’s to a great trip,’ Sam raised his glass again, and they downed their drinks. Dave ordered another round and the topic changed to Paris.

  Dinner at the bistro went down nicely in preparation for the long trip to Paris. In Hong Kong he’d met interesting people completely by accident, and now he was running after a girl to the other side of the world. Dave grabbed his suitcase and exchanged contact details with Sam before saying goodbye.

  He took a Hong Kong taxi for a final time while Sam went to work—Dave knew it was just the beginning of a new night of partying and mayhem for him. Sitting there in the back seat, Dave wondered whether he should have stayed at least for a week. He hadn’t even experienced a night out on a weekend. Everyone had boasted about it and said that it couldn’t be missed. But as fun as it was, Dave knew huge nights out were a short-lived experience. The morning after was such a punishment, and he was starting to think he was getting too old for it.

  While en route to the airport, Dave thought about Erin. His excitement grew every time she popped into his head. He felt compelled to pursue her. He saw in her an opportunity for something new and he needed to cling on to that. Who knew where she would be, and who knew what the chances of finding her in that city were. But it didn’t matter. Dave was heading somewhere. He was getting a chance to start a new life, and so far, he was having fun on the way.

  Hong Kong was a great city, but when the partying ended and everyone went home, the loneliness was all that was left for him. Being on the move felt right. He had a direction, a purpose, even if that purpose was a mysterious woman he might never find. At the airport, he spent the last of his Hong Kong dollars in an Internet café. He was searching for an apartment in the Latin Quarter of Paris. He would also need a French phrase book. Mental note to buy one, he said to himself.

  Finding an apartment within his budget was harder than he thought, and time was running out before he would have to catch the plane. He finally found a vacancy at an apartment complex on rue Buffon and used his credit card to make an online booking. He printed off the instructions for his arrival, and he made a final check of the address and price. He was dealing with euros now, and it worked out to be a lot more than he anticipated. He glanced up and saw that on the board his flight number displayed ‘boarding’ just as he finished up on the computer. ‘Shit! Forgot to buy a camera,’ he swore quietly to himself as he hurried to the boarding gate.

  Once on the plane, he buckled up once again, and the Airbus rumbled off the runway and ascended into the sky. He looked out the window and watched the enormous city shrink below and disappear out of view, leaving no traces of his visit. From high above, cities seem impersonal and mysterious, he thought. Like distant lands from a fantasy novel, promising excitement and adventure. And among those tiny streets, a microcosm of life that could not be imagined revealed itself.

  The plane was old; the seats still had ashtrays from an era long gone. Dave nestled his head against the seat in an effort to find the best sleeping position and tried to relax. It felt as though he were sitting on a wooden chair, upright and stiff, without decent back or neck support. Even stuffing his jacket behind his back didn’t give him much comfort. The passenger to Dave’s right was playing with his mobile phone until he was told by a flight attendant to turn it off. On Dave’s left was a well-groomed man a little older than him, who was engrossed in a French real-estate magazine. Dave exhaled deeply and closed his eyelids, focussing his mind on the jet noise until he finally switched off and fell asleep.

  ‘Bonjour, monsieur. What would you like for breakfast?’ A male flight attendant was doing the rounds, presenting passengers with their choice of meal. Dave stirred upon hearing the noise of food being served. He looked at his watch. He’d slept for nine hours straight. Impressive, he thought as he stretched to get his circulation going. His limbs made cracking noises as if they hadn’t been used for years. He twisted in his seat, trying to get his vertebrae in the right order. His spine was like a bike chain pulled off its gears .

  The man who had been fiddling with his phone was n
ow asleep, snoring loudly and flapping his lips as he exhaled. The well-groomed gentleman to Dave’s left was finishing a glass of wine and asking for another. Dave listened to the man’s French closely but could not understand a word. It flowed melodically, a delight to his ears. A shame he couldn’t speak it.

  ‘Nice wine?’ Dave asked, trying to initiate a conversation.

  ‘No. It’s terrible, but it will have to do,’ the man answered with a heavy accent as he rolled his eyes in disappointment. ‘You cannot expect much on airplanes.’ His tone was abrupt—it made him sound a little angry.

  ‘Are you French?’ Dave asked, somewhat thick-headedly.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which city?’

  ‘Paris.’

  ‘I’m from Melbourne, Australia.’

  ‘You are coming from very far,’ the Frenchman replied. ‘I would love to go there but the flight is too long. I hate long flights and stewards piss me off.’ He raised his voice intentionally and looked over at the flight attendants.

  ‘How is life in Paris?’ Dave asked, mostly because he was curious, but also because he wanted to get the guy to focus on something else.

  ‘It’s dirty! It’s not like it used to be ten years ago. A lot of people come from everywhere, very mixed. A lot of poor people on the streets, too. It’s the bloody economy. The prime minister is a fucking joke.’ He took a drink of his wine and fell silent. The Frenchman’s snappy mood added a thickness to his accent. His speech was fast and animated, waving his hands about like an orchestra conductor. Dave wasn’t sure if he meant that the streets were dirty or the people in it, but he still wanted to keep him talking.

  ‘What do you do for work?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Now? Nothing. No, I lie. I try to change career in real estate. I used to be a fashion designer.’

  ‘That must be a great job, any big labels?’

  ‘When I first started many years ago, yes. Later I opened my own business and worked for myself. I opened five stores around Paris. You know, clothes for big ladies.’