Dapto

August 30th

Tisi is waiting for me on the platform.
Reunited at last! It feels like months.

***

Tim had been right about the train ride: the final leg of the 2hr journey -- beyond the northern beaches and after Sydney's center, south on the country lines -- is beautiful. Snaking around mountains, steep tumbling ravines, past tiny hamlets through groves of immense gum trees, rounding a bend to have the coastline and teal-blue ocean burst into view.

Still no kangaroos, though.

***

After an urgent bathroom dash (couldn't get my pack into the cubicles on the train -- and by "couldn't" I mean, couldn't be bothered), we're sitting on the bench, getting up to speed. Tisi is looking a touch shell-shocked. All she'll let on is that Sharky the Hectic-Mobile needs some "feminine sensibility for organization."

Tim and Callan barrel around the corner. "Hey! Hey! We were wondering what had happened to you!" I looked at Tisi, having assumed she came on her own. A sigh and a strained smile, she looked tired. Fair enough, having come straight from life in Melbourne only yesterday.

***

Sharky the Hectic-Mobile is waiting in front of the house, gleaming orange glory in the afternoon light. A full tour is given: Tim installed the bench seat and seat-belts in the back; things have been tuned up, repainted, and thoroughly cleaned. Much focus is placed on the orange hubcaps. These, I'm told, have made all the difference. All the difference.

Mort painted a beautiful mini-mural of a shark on the side before he left. The boys are so proud of Sharky (with good reason) and are ultra-excited to show it off. I'm slightly apprehensive about driving the beast; it's massive, tall and clunky, no visibility out the back, and -- my favorite -- there hadn't been enough time to install a proper bull bar. 3000km? I'm skeptical, but the repeated assurance is that this -Mobile is all on the up and up.

***

Tim suggests a quick beach excursion. As we jump into Sharky, he hands me and Tisi each a colorful towel his mother had found us for our journey.
"Great. Always pack your towel: covered. Now all that's left: Don't Panic."
Tisi approves of the reference. Yet another reason why it's love.

Upon returning to the house post-swim, Tim can't find his phone. Sharky is searched, but Tim is quite certain he left it at the beach. It's OK, he tells us, because he wants to get a new one. But Tisi and I determine it's a mission and head back to the beach while Tim makes dinner.

We retrace our steps along the sand to where we dropped our stuff, with me repeatedly ringing Tim's number.
"Did you hear that?" asks Tisi, "I'm pretty sure I head something."
I'm considerably more skeptical, barely able to hear her over the wind and the surf.

But then, I do hear something! I start digging and, sure enough, Tim's phone! Tisi turns around in time to catch my victory pose: on knees, head back, phone held high, silhouetted against the sunset (there's a photo of this somewhere -- yes, we recreated the event for documentation purposes).

Who could ask for a better omen?! We haven't even left yet and already, we're scoring a 100% success rate on all projects undertaken.

***

The house is packed with bodies and things. Tim, his wife, and two sons, me and Tisi in the lounge, Tim's parents in the semi-attached bungalow, Zelda the Dog.
But it's the piles and piles of stuff, floor to ceiling, that's mind-boggling. I have never seen so many items jammed into so little space. My brain is having fantasies of organizational possibilities. The junk! The treasures! The bowl of tadpoles outside the backdoor!

I spend the evening on a stool at the end of the kitchen counter, sitting very, very still.
The light in the lounge in on a timer that can't be switched off.
We leave in a day.

***

That night, I dream of the Social Research Center and wake up with the ear plugs in my hand.