“Yes, I do.”
“Good. Mr Sims has already requested you to be given a three-month contract. You start tomorrow at nine. Don’t be late.”
I nod.
“Shocked?”
“Yes,” I blurt out, closing my mouth that has gaped open.
“This is a new one for me too. Never has an applicant been granted immediate employment. But I’m not the boss. This is his call. Asher will have uniforms for you. Please report to her now and get them. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you.” Confusion has my head spinning. I offer my hand, which Jasmine shakes. “Um … how much does it pay?” I murmur, embarrassed to ask.
“Forty-nine thousand annual. Four weeks’ holiday and ten days’ paid sick leave. I’m sure you will be happy with this. It’s the customary starting rate. Now, I must attend to my duties. See you in the morning.”
“Okay.” I’m hesitant.
The door closes on her exit. Holy crap, what just happened? And why did she bother giving me a pen and paper if I didn’t need them?
The lift tings before the doors open on the ground floor. Asher is waiting for my return, holding a black plastic bag.
“Congratulations! I hope you like it here.” She’s a little too excited for my liking. “What size are you? Before you answer, keep in mind our sizing is big.” How does she know already?
“A size six, I guess. I’m normally an eight …”
“I thought you would be. You’re so skinny. That way.” She points, handing me a bag containing what I assume is the uniform.
“Sorry, what’s that way?”
“The amenities. Try it on for size … the uniform.” She gestures to the bag I’m now holding.
Nodding, I follow her instructions.
I enter the amenities and stand in the open area in front of the hand basins. I unzip the dress that seemed more difficult to zip up this morning, avoiding the privacy of a cubicle. Not too bad. I look into a mirror above the hand basins. Red suits me.
Why does all of this seem so strange, so dream-like? So very unrealistic? I shake my head and gaze at my reflection once more.
The uniform consists of a capped sleeve dress with a gavel logo and the company name embroidered on the breast. It also includes a gold and red chequered scarf and a gold gavel dress pin. I don’t even know if I want this bloody job. Now I have a uniform and start tomorrow. Frick.
My skin becomes clammy, every breath becomes harder than the last one to take, and dizziness overcomes me. Panic. It’s happening again. I scoop my clothes into hurried hands as I rush from the amenities.
“It fits!” Asher calls out happily as I race past her.
“Yep … Fine … Good.” I dart towards the automatic doors.
“Abigail, there are two more here for you to take,” she calls after me.
“Great. I’ll get them in the morning,” I shout. She can’t see me like this. I don’t need to be branded crazy here too.
A light breeze rushes across moist skin. My feet pick up the pace as I run to Bertha. Safety.
In through your nose, out through your mouth. I repeat this three times before feeling a sense of relief blanketing me.
I drive. Home was where I intended to go, but it’s not where Bertha stops. She glides with ease, as I pull her up under a large tree.
I open the door and climb out, the crisp open air refreshing. Peace and tranquillity wrap around me as I stroll past a lake, stopping briefly on a footbridge to ask myself, “Why here?”
Cemeteries normally give me the heebie-jeebies, but not Buderim Lawn. This place is my security—it’s where my dad now lies.
Nestling down beside a small squared rock on the ground, I run my fingers over chiselled letters.
“Fletcher McMillian.” How I miss hearing his name.
Roses and azaleas surround the stone, and as I close my eyes, the smell of the flowers and sound of the birds chirping above help me picture his face, a face I haven’t seen for nearly seven years. I see those same green eyes, the ones gifted to me, his narrow lips, curly brown hair, and bearded chin. How I miss him.
“Hi, Dad. Sorry it’s been a while.” A sudden ache fills my chest. “So how have you been?”
I pause, as if expecting an answer. I laugh. God, I’m so uncomfortable. There haven’t been many times I’ve sat and spoken to Dad since his death, but I’ve come here when I’ve needed him the most.
“So, yeah. Life,” I mumble. “Well, you’re not missing much. Mine has personally gone to crap. I did get a new job today, so I guess that’s something?” I fidget, rolling a few strands of loose hair around my fingers. “I’m not good at this. Hell! The last time my lazy arse visited, I was howling like a baby. You probably didn’t understand a word I said. Sorry for springing that on you.”
***
“Dad, you need to be here right now. You can’t be gone anymore,” I cried, holding Bella tightly in my arms as tears streamed down my cheeks. “Please, Daddy! It’s not fair. I can’t survive this.”
Bella escaped my breakdown, opting to lie in the garden under the shade of a fern. The afternoon glare from the sun was harsh. It pierced my eyes with a burn, causing more tears to fall.
“He said he loved me. He asked me to marry him. I’d bought my dress. It was perfect, Daddy, one you would have wanted to walk me down the aisle in. Mike has taken everything. He has stolen his words back. He’s not allowed to steal them back, is he? Why doesn’t he want me? What did I do? Tell me. What did I do? Please!” Sounds resembling a wounded animal wailed from my mouth.
I needed my dad to save me, and he couldn’t. I laid my head on the patch of grass in front of the garden and sobbed. My heart was broken, and I was homeless. No longer a girl with a fiancé because my love was not enough.
“Make this pain stop. You’re supposed to protect me. He’s broken your little girl’s heart,” I pleaded. There was a long pause. “Answer me!” A piercing scream followed. “Daddy, please.”
***
My head shakes, snapping me back to reality. It seems like a lifetime ago, yet that day is one that’ll never be erased.
“I was okay after that day, Dad. You would have been proud. Tough skin got me through.” Sighing, I wonder how in the world I managed to move on and keep going, and then how the hell I’ve ended up such a mess now. “That is until six months ago. Everything changed. Mike is getting married, and no, it’s not to me. Maybe I should gift his new bride my unworn dress … What do you think?”
A vision of Dad laughing hysterically makes me smile.
“Yeah, you’re right, not such a great idea.” Cynical laughter drifts on the breeze—my laughter.
“Hi. Sorry, are you okay?”
Turning my head, I’m greeted by chocolate-coloured eyes, a stubbled chin, and wavy charcoal hair. My mouth gapes open.
“Sorry for interrupting you.” He shakes his head. “You were laughing loudly and not many people do that in cemeteries. It’s pretty odd.”
My mouth closes. Words are hard to find.
“Hey! Are you okay? Did you hear me?”