The sun shines lazily as it sinks
lower and lower.
Another
Valentine’s Day has come and gone. With a beer in one hand and a fold-out chair
in the other, I wander up behind the house and seat myself under the drooping
gums. This is a favoured spot where I have often come to watch the sun setting throughthe
trees lining the water. Looking down the hill from where I have plonked the
chair, I see through the recently cleared block next door, across our street
and over the water. Beyond I see the sun’s golden orb sinking behind the hills
of North Arm Cove.
A welcome
sight, always. Sitting comfortably, my mind returns to the events of the
previous February…
It
was late afternoon and I was up in Queensland. I was heading back to an AirBnB
near where I visiting my sister. She had her daughter and partner along for the
ride too and, I had learnt one evening while there, was with her second child.
A few hours before, I had caught a ferry up and back the length of Noosa River.
The captain had been a lively fellow, happily pointing our sites of interest along
the way over the intercom and peppering his tales with humorous anecdotes.
At
some point my tummy rumbled, and I looked at my watch. Nearly half-past five I
saw, and I still hadn’t checked out
any of the great restaurants here on my own. So I disembarked at the the fifth
return stop. It would still be a
forty-minute walk back home from about here- surely I’d find something along the way.
I was near
a marina and made my way along the foreshore. Gum-trees swayed in the wind and
parrots screeched and wheeled to places of safety overhead. Numerous
restaurants came and went as I walked, but none seemed right. Maybe…?
As I
passed an intersection, a sign caught my eye. 27 Grammi Food & Wine Bar, it read. Quality Italian cuisine.
My eyes widened.
‘That looks alright,’ I said to myself. ‘Might check it out…’
At
the counter was a young, twenty-something fellow with a contemporary haircut.
He looked at me expectantly as I arrived, despite me being alone. A number of
wait-staff hovered in and out of the kitchens behind him. One of these caught
my eye instantly with her dark hair and olive skin. We caught eyes and smiled.
‘Can
I help you, sir?’ the waiter asked.
I
was brought back to the moment. ‘Uh, yeah. A table for one.’
He
looked around the main dining area which was packed with jovial groups and
adoring couples. Over to his left sat maybe half-a-dozen empty tables along a
veranda facing a car-park.
He
gestured in that direction. ‘Just out here we can fit you, if you don’t mind?’
‘Sure,’
I said, and made my way. In truth I was relieved. Though facing the parking lot,
I would still be facing the setting sun and could almost forget the other
customers. We picked our way over to one the tables next to the kitchen
doorway.
‘Anything to drink, sir?’ he asked as I sat,
passing me a menu.
‘Give
me one of your cheapest wines.’
He
looked up from the notepad he held sharply.
‘I
am on a budget man. No need to bust the bank!’
The
waiter laughed. ‘Thought as such! Backpacker?’
I
nod. ‘Up here visiting my sister and niece.’
‘Cool.
So…which wine do you want?
I
looked at the two-sided menu in my hands and was immediately lost amidst this
sea of fancy, Italian-sounding names. None
of them I had ever seen before and let’s be honest: I’m an easily pleased
drinker. A good, dark ale, a hearty beer or some spiced rum will always do me
just fine, thank-you very much!
‘Err…not
sure. You got any suggestions?’
He
nodded in thought before smiling helpfully. ‘Well, Roma-Wineria is pretty good, and not too pricey. I’ll get you a
glass of that and let you figure out what you want for mains. We’ll be back in
five,’
I
sat and perused the menu, finding something within my price-range; before
leaning back to relax in my chair. The late-afternoon sun’s glorious golden
rays reflected off the clouds before me.
A
few minutes later I looked left to see the gorgeous waitress I’d noticed a
moment before approaching my table. She was holding a wine glass and a bottle
of wine and I noticed a cute tattoo on her ankle. Her hair was bound in that
way I’ve always found appealing: a lock hanging down one side. Visions of
Mediterranean beauties flashed through my mind.
She smiled
as she neared. ‘Here’s your wine,’ she said, in an accent that was subtly yet
unmistakably Italian. ‘Straight out from a vineyard on the slopes of Tuscany!’
I
took a sip from the glass she offered. ‘Mmm…nice! You say Tuscany?’
‘Yes,
my Uncle has an estate over there.’ She lingered for a moment longer. ‘So have
you thought about your order?
I
nodded, commenting how most of the meals were either too fancy or too pricey.
But one stood out: a cheap(-ish) pasta, the name of which I couldn’t pronounce.
‘Here,’ I announced pointing to the menu. ‘This one at the bottom!’
‘Aha!’
she laughed. ‘Poor man’s pasta. Tagliatelle, with an E!’
‘Sounds
great!’ I sat back comfortably in my chair, reaching out again for my wine
glass.
She looked
at me curiously. ‘You left handed?’
I
looked down at my outstretched arm. ‘Yep. Have been for most of my life.’
She
laughed and raised any eyebrow. ‘Most?’
‘Well,
there was this one occasion…but that’s another story. Perhaps some other time?’
It
was a clear invitation and it seemed to please her. ‘Sure,’ she said softly.
‘You up here for very long?’
‘Afraid
not,’ I said. ‘I fly home on the weekend. But who knows? I’ve got family up
here, so I’ll definitely be coming back some time.’
‘Definitely,’
she said coyly. ‘I’d like that.’
I
don’t actually remember seeing her again the rest of the evening but I do recall
the tasty, hearty pasta that I was soon presented with. Definitely one to try
out sometime! And I like to imagine that as I approached the counter to pay for
the meal as I left she passed by, exiting the kitchen carrying a steaming plate
of some Italian pasta for another customer with her lovely ankles showing. Her
pretty face turned in my direction and our eyes met. For a moment we knowingly
exchanged a sad, wistful smile knowing that whatever was meant to be, if it was
indeed meant to be, was not to be just yet.
Back
in the present moment, I look around as the sun sets lower. The fold-out chair
creaks below me as I shift my position. My now nearly-empty beer bottle sits
comfortably in my hands and I absent-mindedly watch the neighbours come and go.
Across the road, that new young couple dart out into the husband’s 4-by-4 and
race away. Just further down I see Ray, a likeable chap from Eastern Europe whistling
as he closes his front gates. Kookaburras chortle in the trees above.
Okay,
I think to myself now, so this may not have been the life I imagined when I
left school. But one thing is absolutely
certain: it’s the life I have been alloted, and I wouldn’t have it any other
way.
