Sydney's Song by Ia Uaro Page A

can’t even ( bleep ) look at each other the next morning!”
    â€œAgent-manager pairing is against our workplace policy!” Susan protested.
    â€œWho’s going to play law enforcement on consenting adults outside office hours?” Thomas countered.
    â€œSinead drinks the hardest and f( bleep )s the wildest!” Monashi announced. “All the boys are ( bleep ) crazy for her! They all wait to see who’ll be chosen to get ( bleep ) lucky. It’s ( bleep ) pathetic.”
    â€œWow,” Susan was wide-eyed. “You never know, do you? Sinead’s not a flirt. Here she’s very decent and friendly. Smiles at everybody. She respects us oldies.”
    â€œShe’s enjoying her backpacking heaps,” chipped in Thomas. “Said she was going to uni in Dublin and would be sober by then.”
    â€œShe likes to choose her own moments,” Susan commented good-naturedly. “It’s up to her who to drink with. Or to be with afterwards.”
    â€œIt’s been Jack,” Monashi gleefully imparted her broad knowledge of others’ private lives. “Earlier it was Kevin and some of the ( bleep ) managers. But Pete’s often around her at the office.” One shapely eyebrow arched, “You think?”
    No one could exclusively own Sinead who valued her freedom. I remembered her flirting with Kevin while Pete looked on with possessive eyes. Did he have a thing for her? Foreign agents loved to flirt with the locals, but Pete sort of sat with expressionless dignity near Sinead. Now, why would I bother about other people’s lives when I had my own to live? This flitted through my mind as they gossiped. Until Pete returned to our pod and silenced this line of conversation.
    Noting Pete’s permitted-only-on-weekends casual clothes, I remembered him complaining that this was the first time he had been forced to wear a tie outside the US. Absently I wondered what he was doing working at a call centre. Or in Australia, for that matter.
    And I wondered what my fun-loving rowdy co-workers would be doing after work. I loathed my isolation, yet feared mingling with others. I was not a fan of my appalling self. In my misery I could hardly relate to people and, being 17, I still had a legal excuse to dodge their invitation. I did not want them too close to see the real me. I could not be like Sinead who was enjoying life immensely with lots of friends. Lots of sleep partners too, by the sound of it.
    I did not judge people or begrudge their choices. Before my parents’ divorce, I’d only hoped to save myself for that special someone who might happen by, strolling into my life. Since it was obvious true love did not exist, shouldn’t I go party and throw my reserve to the wind? That was what my friends would do with their freedom—instead of endlessly taking photographs or sitting among my roses drawing cartoons.
    But I lacked courage. I was terrified of getting hurt. A coward, still.
    With and without friends, I was a loser.
    One of my callers wasn’t a coward though.
    â€œI want to get happy tonight,” she confided in a hush-hush tone of someone imparting a secret. “I’ll go pubbing. But if I don’t pick up a guy, how safe is Campbelltown Station after midnight?”
    It was a secret. I was the only one privy to her thoughts. Her first time to step out? Alone? She sounded cute, shyly deliberating her wild night out but determined to carry it out. Who was she rebelling against? Strict parents? Revenge against a faithless partner? Or simply to break free from boredom?
    After my shift I walked fast to the station. My Northern Line train—the red line on Sydney’s Rail map—departed Hornsby from platform 3. While waiting, I saw Pete going down the stairs to platform 1 for his North Shore train to Roseville. No Sinead today, they had different rosters.
    Pete lifted his hand to wave. His beautiful eyes still looked at me in