Sydney house prices. A fiction in four parts. Part 1.

Sean’s fingers seize on the steering wheel as he turns into the old street. The houses have changed, but the pattern of driving hasn’t.  Accelerator, brake, right indicate.  Accelerator, brake, left indicate.  Immediate right indicate.  He brakes for the final time, the car peters out with the turn of the key.  He pats the steering wheel of his 911, the final vestige of a dissatisfying career in advertising. She’s a good girl, he thinks out loud, attempting to hide his apprehension at where he is.   

He leans forward and looks up to his old bedroom through the windscreen layered with the dust of the three states that once divided him from his parents.  New curtains he thinks to himself.  Sitting back, there is movement at the blinds downstairs. Fay has been waiting for him. Sean takes a deep breath and prepares himself to enter his new home, his old house. 

Sean pulls a suitcase on wheels and an overnight bag on his shoulder.  The driveway is newly paved, and two shiny Camry’s are parked. Sean raises his eyebrows, they’ve splurged. The plastic wheels click rhythmically over the paving announcing his presence.

Fay watches Sean fuss at his car through the aged scrim. It veils Sean’s actual 34 years and he could be the 19 years he was when he left Perth for Sydney. Fay squints and no time has passed.  She remembers the day he left. She had stood in the same position peering through the scrim, confused and hurt. Now she was terrified he was returning.

Fay waits for him to knock and she opens the door with feigned rush and surprise.

My son!

Their embrace is silent but warm.

Fay gestures to the luggage Sean has dropped at the door. 

You don’t have much.

I have some furniture being delivered tomorrow. Chairs, my dining table -

We have a dining table.

I know, but that’s yours - this is mine.

We don’t need a dining table.

It’s my stuff. I’ll need it when I move out. 

Fay feels her face getting hot. 

You’re already moving out?

No. But I will. 

Sean kicks his stuff to a familiar corner. Got anything to eat? Where’s dad?

Fay takes a long audible breath through her nose.

*

Part 2 next newsletter. Tune in.