The high pitch of her voice brought my headache to the forefront of my mind. “I’ll take two large black coffees, thanks.”
“Would you like a hash brown for a dollar?”
She was sticking to the script despite my surly attitude. “Sure, why not?” I conceded. Her face lit up like she’d just won the lottery.
Ten minutes later, I’d finished my first coffee and was starting to feel slightly human. Dumping the empty cup and the uneaten hash brown in the bin, I got in the car and took off again. The nagging in the back of my brain was telling me to get to Melbourne as quick as I could. I don’t believe in that mystic, sixth sense bullshit, but something in my gut was telling me Zoe needed me, and she needed me now?even if she didn’t know it. I’d texted her again last night after the game and again this morning but had yet to get a response. Not that I’d expected one, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t piss me off.
After a long, boring drive, I rounded the bend and Melbourne was in my sights. The skyscrapers, the bridges, the crazy yellow beam stretching across the road. It was all laid out ahead of me, inviting me in. Pushing aside the overwhelming awe, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Getting to Zoe. Carefully I dodged the matchbox sized cars that darted in and out amongst the fast moving traffic, not to mention the hundred or more yellow taxi cabs barrelling along the freeway with seemingly no regard for the rules. Seeing the sign for Docklands, I eased off the accelerator and took the exit.
It had been a handful of years since I’d been here and so much had changed. Docklands, once wasteland with only the train station, was now a trendy, thriving suburb. Townhouses and apartments had sprung up everywhere. Shops and eclectic cafes filled the sidewalk. It all was dwarfed by the football stadium. Even at this time in the morning it looked impressive. I could only imagine what it would be like all lit up at night jam packed with fifty thousand rabid fans screaming their heads off. I was definitely going to come back soon to enjoy it.
I pulled over on a side street and checked the map on my phone. I was only a couple of streets away, but by the looks of things, parking was going to be an issue. Spotting one on the next block, I quickly manoeuvred into it. They made them tight in the city. Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I locked up and started the trek down the street. Obviously they were late starters in the city. Most of the street was deserted and everything was still covered with a thin sheen of last night’s dew. With the sun reflecting from every surface, the whole place sparkled.
Spotting Zoe’s car, I let out a sigh of relief and all the fury that had been bubbling for a week evaporated instantly. She was home. I was in the right place. It was everything I’d expect Zoe’s place to be. Sleek, stylish, modern. The raised garden boxes were filled with colourful flowers, brightening up the place. With renewed energy, I bounced up the steps and checked the mail box. Her name was there in black and white. Apartment number fifty-three.
In the elevator I could barely stand still. I was shifting my weight back and forth, my palms were sweating, and my pulse was going ballistic. Staring at my reflection in the mirrored doors, I wished I’d stopped and taken the time to clean myself up, but even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself. When the bell pinged and the doors sprung open, I was caught off guard. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but I was seriously shitting myself.
Forcing one foot after the other, I strode determinedly down the deserted corridor. Then there it was. An innocuous white door with stainless steel numbers. With trembling fingers, I raised my hand and knocked. After standing there for what felt like an eternity without an answer, I tried again. Still no answer. All the anger I thought had vanished flooded my veins.
I knocked again. Hard.
“Can I help you?” a shaky voice asked from behind me.
Spinning around at the voice, I found an old man shuffling towards me wearing a flannel dressing gown and matching slippers. His face was a maze of wrinkles and he had the most odd shade of pale grey eyes I’d ever seen. Even though his almost white hair was thinning, there was still an intimidating air of authority about him. Or maybe my mum had raised me right and it wasn’t his authority that was intimidating, but the respect I immediately felt towards him due to his seniority.
My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. I couldn’t get a word out. Swallowing heavily, I managed to splutter, “I’m a friend of Zoe’s but she doesn’t seem to be answering.”
“A friend, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m Spencer. Spencer McLaren,” I offered, extending my hand.
It took a moment but then I felt his small, bony, ice cold hand settle in mine, but I didn’t miss the evaluation he gave me. His bespectacled eyes scanned up and down my body, I’m sure noticing the bruises and two days’ growth lining my chin.
“I’ve heard your name before,” he admitted before dropping my hand.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” I immediately regretted saying that. It sounded so dumb. I felt so stupid.
Grinning at me, he chuckled. “Depends. Did you know I have a key to Princess Zoe’s?”
Feeling relieved for the first time since I stepped into the building, I said, “Great. Mind letting me in?”
The truth was I was holding my breath. My nerves had got the better of me and I was officially freaking out. He didn’t say a word. Instead he just spun on his slippered heel and disappeared back into his apartment across the hall and closed the door. My hope faded. No, it didn’t fade, it died. Instantly. Seconds felt like an eternity.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice shocking the shit out of me. Just when I’d given up, he shuffled across in front of me and stuck the tiny brass key in the lock. “Before I let you in, I need to be sure that you’re really Spencer.”
“How can you know that? Do you want to see my licence or something?” At this point I didn’t care what proof he wanted. Hell, he could ask for a blood sample and I’d gladly grab a syringe. I just wanted through that door, no matter the cost.
“Okay. If you really are Spencer, you won’t have any trouble telling me what you and you alone call our girl?”
I couldn’t control the wild grin that covered my face. “That’s easy. She’s my Pippi.” As soon as the word fell from my lips, the lock on the door clicked and he stepped back. “Thank you.”
“Henry. I’m Henry. I love that little girl as if she was my own. So don’t you think about hurting her, Spencer McLaren.” His voice was filled with a combination of warning and love.
“Thank you, Henry. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is see Zoe hurting. That’s why I’m here,” I acknowledged before shaking his hand and stepping inside Zoe’s apartment.
I didn’t even get a chance to look around before the stench almost knocked me sideways. It was putrid. A disgusting combination of stale air, dirty laundry, wet towels, and rotting fruit. Pushing the door closed behind me, I stepped into the small lounge room and discovered one of the sources of the odour. A wooden fruit bowl piled high with browning bananas and oranges covered with ugly green spots. Forcing myself to take a breath, I walked through the lounge, past the kitchen, and found myself standing in the threshold to Zoe’s bedroom.
Then there she was. Zoe. My Zoe. Looking terrible. But she was safe. And sleeping. Her hair was matted and fanned out across the pillows. Her lips were slightly parted and chapped as she snored softly. Stepping towards her bed, I noticed how pale and drawn she was. Her eyes were sunken and rimmed with deep, dark, black bags. She looked so small. So helpless. So miserable. And she smelt. If I thought the lounge room stank, then the bedroom was worse.
Almost tripping over the abandoned suitcase, I noticed the contents had been scattered about haphazardly. The independent Zoe who’d straightened her shoulders and taken herself home was nowhere in sight now. Asleep in the bed before me was my worst nightmare. Stepping over the piles of clothes, I moved towards the bed.
Sinking down beside her, I reach out and touched her bare shoulder. “Zoe! Come on, Zoe. Time to wake up,” I begged softly. She rolled over, grunting as she went, but still she didn’t wake. I tried again, a little harder this time.
Reluctantly, Zoe’s eyes flickered open and her gaze met mine.
