Serendipity

I wiped the dust off of the beat-up box with ‘Travel Memories’ written on the side.
I don’t remember leaving this here, thought I got rid of it.
Looking through to find old plane tickets, slightly faded from age. I tried keeping these in good condition, I was supposed to at least. Such a long time ago, oh well.
I grabbed a book, it’s cover was slightly cracked, I scanned through to the end. A postcard fell out of the back, the cover was a photo of the Arc De Triomphe and had the year 1996 in the bottom corner.
“I remember this, it was the first place I had travelled to once I started getting paid for being a writer, after my first novel was published. The first place that I had laid eyes on her.”
Sydney Airport, 1996
I stood there behind a French family, the mother looking drained as her three children were running around, not listening to her as she starts to walk towards the counter. I guess they’re going back home.
I boarded the plane, looking for my seat. I put my carry on under me and turned the television on that was on the back of the seat in front of me.
I looked up and saw a lady putting her luggage in the top carrier, she looked a bit worrisome. She dropped her bag and a book fell out; it was John O’briens, Leaving Las Vegas. I hopped out of my seat and gave her a hand picking up her stuff, she looked so embarrassed, it was cute in a way. She sat down next to me, I had taken her window seat, I apologised and swapped with her.
The television played re runs of Mr Bean with French subtitles, I could not stand it after the first few times I had watched the episodes, but I guess it was better than watching eighties French soap operas. I put on the light above me, slightly dim on the blank page. I always write to take away my nerves, I guess it helps me empty my mind. I felt a light tap on my shoulder. It was the lady from earlier. She asked what I was writing, I told her I was writing about my hopes for the future, I continued to tell her about my plans for when I go to France.
I asked for her name, her name was Emily.
“Hey dad, what is that box?” the little girl asked.
“It’s nothing, just some old things I used to write when I used to travel.” I replied.
“Can I have a look?” she asked.
“There’s nothing to look at darling.”
I closed the box and put it back where it came from.
Sydney, 1997
We walked down the long road, she pointed to the book store two doors down.
“Let’s go have a look in there! I want to get a few books to read for when I’m away next week.” She said
I nodded, put my arm around her and proceeded to walk towards the book store.
“I really like this one.” Pointing towards an older looking book.
“What’s it called?” I asked, looking for a book to occupy myself.
“There’s no cover on it, I’ll go ask the man at the counter if he knows anything about it.”
I picked up a book, quite an old one as well. There wasn’t anything on the front or back covers. It was all scratched up, not really cared for. The first page had something on the front though.
To, the girl in the Orange Dress
There wasn’t an author’s name. Just the initials, M.F.
“Hey, I know who wrote this book, it was a guy by the name of Haruki Murakami. The book is called, The Strange Library.” Emily informed.
“That’s good, are you going to get it?” I asked.
“Yeah, I think it will be a good read.”
I bought a post card too.
…
She left the week after that, for work.
She had just gotten a job as an air hostess, she loved to travel. She always talked about how she wanted to go to every country and get a post card or a souvenir from wherever she would go. She said she would get me a few on her first trip.
After a few months, she stopped sending me post cards, she stopped calling and emailing. I stopped writing to her. We stopped seeing each other due to the distance and rarely seeing each other, causing arguments and other problems.
Sydney, 2001
We met for a cup of coffee, a few blocks down from where we had our first date. She was happy, she had been to all the places that I’d only dreamed about. She just got back from Tokyo and explained how amazing it was there.
We talked for a while about her trips and what she had been doing since we broke up. She has a family now, she has a baby daughter named Jessica. She had her mother’s eyes. She stopped working since the baby was born, she’s studying to become a primary school teacher, she loves kids.
She asked what I have been doing since we last saw each other.
I told her I had been writing, traveling the world and trying to promote my book and find motivation to write more.
She always loved to read my stories, she was always the first to read them, they were always for her. I told her I was writing a book about a girl, she didn’t know it was for her.
It was getting late so we both decided it would be a good idea to leave, I walked her to her car and we said our goodbyes.
“It was really nice to see you!” she said with a smile on her face
I nodded, “Yeah, it was good to catch up after the years.”
“I’m glad you’re doing well, email me when you finish that book! I’ll definitely buy one.”
I smiled nervously, “Yeah, I will for sure.”
She got into her car, she waved at me goodbye. Not knowing that it would be the last time we would see each other. Her face looked slightly upset, like she wanted to tell me something but didn’t find the courage.
I asked her to put the window down, “I missed you Emily.”
“You too, Michael”
She drove back to her family and I started to walk to the nearest train station, not ready for a long train ride home back to the city.