Finding Thyme

by TJ Hamilton

  As soon as the morning sun rises over the Tasman Sea and the daylight reaches Sydney, I leap out of bed and get ready to go for my run. My body feels brand-new again as I swing my closet doors open. The entire space is bare—not even a single coat hanger is in sight. I rub my eyes. Maybe not sleeping last night has made me delirious? No, damn it! All of my clothes are at Nick’s apartment. I shower and throw my clothes from the day before back on. Charlie is at work today so I decide to head straight to the Opera House. I want to avoid the direct route from my apartment to the Opera House because that would entail passing Nick’s apartment. I set out and decide to take an alternate walk through the city’s Hyde Park, passing the gothic arches of St Mary’s Cathedral towards the Botanical Gardens, the longer but less hurtful path to see Charlie. I look around and just wish the huge trees that encase the pathway of the Domain would just pick me up and stranglehold me forever. The sky is grey and the ground is equally as dull from the sprinkling of rain in the morning. As I make my way to the edge of the Botanical Gardens I finally see the harbour and the tip of the end sail to the Opera House. I feel foolish for introducing Nick to Charlie only a day ago, to now see him with a broken heart. When I arrive at the Opera House, Charlie is outside the front of the stage door on his phone, pacing around. He sees me and ends his call, briskly walking over to me with his hands held out in front of him.

  “I just had the strangest call from your boyfriend then, telling me that you were probably on your way to see me and to make sure you’re okay. What is going on?”

  I look into Charlie’s dark brown eyes and wish I could tell him everything but just burst into tears again instead.

  “Aw, sweetheart. Come here. What did the beautiful man do to you?” he asks as he holds me in as much of a manly embrace as he can manage.

  “I wish I never went into prostitution, Charlie. No man is ever going to respect me because of it.”

  “I don’t know why on earth you told him what you did before. It’s what you did, Mi, it’s not who you are.”

  I wish I could believe Charlie’s words but I don’t. “I had to tell him. I didn’t want any secrets with the man I love,” I lie.

  A convincingly executed performance, Charlie takes my hand and holds it in both of his.

  “I know just the thing to help get you over your troubles. Let’s go have a coffee. I have a secret of my own that I’ve been dying to tell you.”

  I laugh as the last tear trickles down my cheek and disappears onto the ground below. Whatever story Charlie has to tell me, I’m sure it is going to be outrageous and exactly what I need to take away my sorrows.

  We order two takeaway coffees from the Opera Bar on the level below the Opera House and stroll along the water’s shoreline. We make our way around to Lady Macquarie’s Chair, to admire the Harbour Bridge and Opera House together.

  “So, I’m not a virgin anymore.” Charlie smiles as he takes a sip from his coffee.

  I gulp my coffee down to avoid spitting it out all over Charlie.

  “You had sex with a woman? How?” I splutter.

  “Well, it was a bit of an accident.” Charlie’s lips pucker as he grins.

  “What, you accidentally fell into a vagina? I need a seat,” I say as I stumble into the nearest park bench.

  “I didn’t exactly know she was a female.”

  I stare blankly at Charlie. Why I am even surprised is beyond me, but this is something I never thought I’d hear Charlie say. I still can’t find words at this moment.

  “So I was on Scruff. You know, the scruffier version of Grindr …”

  I laugh at how much Charlie and the rest of Sydney’s gay community love the application on their phones, which shows where every person who’s willing to engage in promiscuous sex is, in proximity to each other. All you have to do is log on, find someone in your area and hook up.

  “Well, she was a girl but is in the midst of transforming into a man. So she doesn’t look very girly … Anyway, we organised to meet. He … she … came over to my place and we were lying on my bed watching a movie. I thought oh this is nice, I could get used to this. Then one thing led to another. When I first felt around her crotch through her jeans, I thought okay, that’s why you’re so cuddly, because you have a small dick. Then as things progressed and I felt down there properly, I stopped and said ‘Oh’. She looked at me and said, ‘You didn’t know I was a girl, did you? Didn’t you read my profile?’ I said, ‘Well obviously I didn’t read the small print.’ Then she asked if I had a problem with it and I said ‘No, I’ll give anything a go once’.” Charlie takes another sip of his coffee and smiles at me as if this is normal everyday small talk. Even though, with Charlie, generally this is normal everyday small talk.

  “So … how was it?” I finally ask.

  “Like I said, I’ll give anything a go once, and I have now, and that will be the last time. It was like sticking my dick in a bucket of warm sausages.”

  I laugh loudly. “I’ve missed you so much, Charlie Manetti.” I can’t help but throw my arms around him for the thousandth time in twenty-four hours. I continue trying to work out how a transsexual girl is on a gay man’s cruising app.

  “So aren’t transsexual girls generally into other girls? If she’s into men, then isn’t it easier to get men by being a girl?”

  “Yeah.” Charlie chuckles. “She was into girls but during her transformation, she decided she likes gay men, as a man.”

  “And I thought I had issues! That’s a whole new level of fucked up!” I laugh again.

  Thank goodness for my gay little knight in shining armour. He has most certainly taken my mind off my broken heart … for now.

  TWENTY

  “Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Charlie asks when we’re back at the Opera House.

  I shake my head in frustration. I won’t be doing anything tonight … or for a while I guess. It agonises me to the core to think that Nick won’t be in the picture anymore. How could he be? I just don’t think I am ever going to get past the fact that he will always think of me as a prostitute. I’ll always be some common whore to the man I love … that is just messed up.

  “Mia?” Charlie waves his hand in front of my absent expression.

  I’m pulled from my thoughts of Nick. “Sorry. I’m not doing anything tonight, or the next night, or the next night after that.” I smile weakly.

  “Well, I’ve got some amazing tickets from work to go to the opening of the ballet here tonight. The Russians are in town and I’ve got my eye on a couple of them … they have been prancing around here all morning and I tell you what, those tight asses are just asking to be punished!” Charlie smiles and clasps his hands to his chest. “So what do you say? Just you, me and some sexy men dancing in tights?”

  I giggle. It does sound good. I miss the ballet. I wonder what they’ll be performing? I always wonder if I’ll see my old roommate whenever I hear it’s a Russian ballet.

  “But I don’t have any clothes,” I pout. “They’re all at Nick’s apartment.”

  “We’ll organise to get your clothes back, doll. In the meantime, I’ll give two of my fellow Italian boyfriends, Jacob and Anthony, a call. They make the most fabulous gowns. I’ll see if they’re in town at the moment. I’m sure they’ll have something for you to wear tonight.”

  I smile at the thought of getting dressed up, the same excitement I had when I was getting ready for the fashion week with Tench springs back. “Charlie what would I ever do without you?” I hold him tight and try not to cry again.

  Charlie rolls his eyes. “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

  I take myself out for some retail therapy and stock up on some much-needed outfits before heading back to my apartment. The same Asian girl from the night before feverishly waves her hands at me as I walk through the main foyer of my apartment building, multiple designer store bags in my hands.

  “Miss Thyme, I have three messages to give you urgently.” She smiles and hands me three small notes
.

  I manage a small smile and slowly take them from her grip. “Thanks.”

  I dread looking at them, knowing they’re probably from Nick. I decide I’ll wait to read them once I’m back in my apartment, in case they bring on tears. I’m really over crying. I need to get over this—the sadness is driving me crazy already. I frown as I step out of the elevator onto my apartment level. I stare at the cracked mirror again and then at my door. Shit! I hope Nick isn’t in there. He has access to my apartment. That would be too much. Living here is beginning to feel like a prison again. And what about the agency? Why haven’t I heard from anyone? I look down at the notes in my hand. One is from Liz.

  Mia.

  Please read your directives.

  Liz Donohue.

  I have no idea what that message means. I flick onto the next note as I open the door. It’s from Charlie.

  My boys are in town. They can dress you. Come down to my work. Charlie

  The last note is the one I was hoping to avoid.

  Mia. Please call me.

  Nick.

  I screw it up and throw it against the wall and suck back the tears threatening to spill out. I don’t want to cry anymore. I’ve had about enough of this love bullshit. Why did I get myself so clouded by love when I have to go back to Tench anyway? What was I thinking? I can’t love someone and be intimate with someone else. I have a job to do and I want Tench locked far away, so that I don’t have to live with this feeling of being watched, ever again. I can say goodbye to the agency, its rules, and Tench all in one hit if I just focus and get through this. I find my directives that Liz was referring to on my kitchen bench. She must’ve been here while I was gone and this is exactly why I need to move on from this life and start over again. Alone.

  I pick up the yellow envelope and read the note inside.

  Report to the agency on Friday at 1800 for a briefing on the Principal.

  Field placement commences thereafter.

  Liz Donohue.

  The brief information is just what I needed to pull my heart from Nick and focus on my job at hand. I thought I’d have more time training. Don’t I need to actually learn how to fight, and not learn how to be beaten within an inch of my life? Instead, in two days’ time my freedom will be taken and I will be back with Tench soon after. The thought alone makes me feel nauseous. The butterfly in my stomach is now nothing but a big rotting bug.

  I find the same girl with mousey brown hair and wire glasses at the stage door desk when I arrive at the Opera House to meet Charlie. She smiles as she recognises me.

  “Thyme. Mia Thyme. Charlie Manetti?” she asks, in the strangest of ways.

  There is a hint of nervousness behind her smiling exterior. What does she know that I don’t? Has Nick been here looking for me again? Or has anyone else from the agency been here? She speaks into the phone and asks if I can go through to Charlie, then places the phone down.

  “Someone will come and collect you and take you through to the Utzon Room where Mr Manetti is.”

  A heavyset man in a security uniform steps out from behind the stage door entrance and smiles a surprisingly warm smile. I follow him through a series of passageways in the underbelly of the Opera House. The concreted inside workings of the building stretch around like long skeletal contours. I turn down the last passageway and the room opens up to a beautiful view across to the green rocky tip of Lady Macquarie’s Chair. Giant grey naval ships sit in the distance around the Garden Island naval base, the opposite direction to the Harbour Bridge. The wooden floors are light and airy in this room but the enormous woollen tapestry on the opposite wall is what makes the place. At least fourteen feet long and designed by the very man who designed the Opera House itself, it is absolutely breathtaking. Thick smudges of black, purple, green and yellow stretch out across the tapestry, looking more like paint strips than carefully constructed stitching. Charlie bounds towards me and takes both my hands in his.

  “I am going to have that frown turned upside down with what I have organised for you!” He winks. “My boys have come through with the most amazing outfit! This opening night is going to be fucking incredible. Come and meet the guys and meet the dress!” He waves his hands around as flamboyantly as ever.

  Two handsome Italian men sit cross-legged on a low white leather bench and in matching black and white shirts and ties; the only difference in their outfits is the shorter of the two wears a perfectly cut vest as well. They smile their brilliant white smiles as I step into the vast room. One of them waves in my direction while he talks on the phone. Their classically handsome looks warm my soul and this whole scene is reminiscent of the opening night of fashion week with Tench. Maybe going back to him won’t be so bad after all? I’ll get all of this again … Even if it’s only for a short time, I might as well make the most of the situation. The designer in the vest stands and holds his hand out in front for me to take. He looks over at Charlie and gushes.

  “Oh Chi Chi, she is a glamazon!” he says in an overtly camp manner. “I’m Anthony.” He squeezes my hand.

  I look over at Charlie. Chi Chi? I giggle at the nickname. The other man ends his conversation on the phone and walks over and smiles wildly as he points his finger in my direction.

  “Gorgeous. Gorgeous. Gorgeous!” he says as he waves his finger across me every time he says the word gorgeous. “You are so lucky, girl. We’re in town from Melbourne to dress one of the footballers’ wives but it seems she’s put a little tub on and I simply won’t have that in our garments. I had to refuse. Anthony here would’ve dressed her, but we have a reputation to uphold. I worked too hard on this dress to have some pudgy wear it! We should only need a few alterations, but this dress is almost made for your figure.”

  I don’t really know what to say to the handsome designer’s outburst and feel bad for whoever it is on the receiving end of his weight issue. I try desperately not to roll my eyes at these men. They have no idea what us girls go through with our weight to just have some bitchy designer tell us we’re too big to wear their clothes! The girl was probably only a size two! I sigh under my breath, glad that I was blessed with my father’s lean genetics. I peek around the two men and my annoyance is quickly swept away when I see the exquisite black ball gown that sparkles as it hangs from the torso of the dressmaker’s mannequin. The dress is strapless and the lace at the top is heavily structured and swirls around the breast area on both sides, cleverly concealing where the nipples are. The bottom of the dress cascades out in layers and layers of soft tulle, flowing out dramatically around the dress like a flowing stream of water. It’s possibly the most spectacular and intricate dress I have ever seen.

  “I can’t fucking wait to see this on you!” Charlie squeals.

  “Isn’t this a little excessive for a night out at the ballet?” I question.

  The look on all three men is as if I’ve asked them to convert to heterosexuality.

  “The Danish royal couple are visiting Australia and will be at the ballet tonight. So no, Mia, this is not fucking excessive,” Charlie curtly spits back.

  I huff. “Oh great. A media circus!”

  Thank goodness Tench is out of town. Or else this would’ve been a very bad idea. The dress fits snuggly around my body and the cups grip perfectly around my bosom. A layer of nude colour material sits underneath it to give the appearance that the lace is just sitting on my skin. The soft tumbling tulle at the bottom of the dress spills out from my knees and falls down in angled layers, all the way to the long train at the back of the dress. The train stretches out and follows me as I walk backwards and forwards in front of the boys so that they can see the movement in the garment. The two men squat around me and stitch as they literally sew me into the dress. The back of the dress dips down low, where a million tiny buttons line their way past my bum and finish the dress off perfectly. Considering all the material, the dress is light to wear. I feel every bit a princess for the opening of the ballet tonight. Charlie orders in food and champagne
for us and looks like he’s thrilled with his efforts to please me this afternoon. All three men are like my fairy godmothers, each in his own way preparing me for the ball.

  “I’ve just got to go and get my tux on, doll. I’ll be back in a jiffy. My cousin Annetta is coming to do your hair and makeup. You remember her from my party, right?”

  “Yes. I remember her.” I kiss Charlie on his soft cheek and hold onto him for a moment. “Thank you, Charlie. I needed this.”

  I just wish I could tell you everything, Charlie. Like how I’m going back to Tench in two days. I have no idea how I’m going to explain that to him.

  Charlie’s striking cousin Annetta arrives, wheeling in two suitcases, as the boys still poke and prod around me with fierce authority over their spectacular design, ensuring every detail on the dress is perfect.

  “Oh you’re blonde, Mia.” Annetta looks surprised at my cropped blonde hair.

  “Yeah, I’m going back to brunette soon. I needed a change at the time though, so I’m stuck with it for now.” I shrug.

  “I can turn you back to brunette now, if you want?”

  Both designers at my feet stop what they’re doing and glance around my legs at each other. They don’t seem impressed with the suggestion. Anthony looks up at me and rolls his eyes.

  “As much as it pains me to say this …” He shakes his head. “The dress would look better if you were dark-haired.”

  I laugh out loud. They are certainly didactic when it comes to their creations and how one looks in them.

  There’s no time like the present. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  “Oh, Mi! You’re back! The old you!” Charlie claps as he strolls into the room an hour later.

  His tuxedo makes him look like a little Italian James Bond. I beam and lightly touch my hair, now pinned back in soft dark waves. The old me, I think to myself. Miranda is back.