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The Honeysuckle Cafe

With a tug, she pulled her phone free from the backpack’s pocket and stared at the screen. Seven missed calls from her boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, she supposed. Was he an ex? It was hard to say. Cam had called her more in the days after their supposed breakup than he had in all the weeks preceding it. She’d answered the first few messages but after a while she’d grown irritated and ignored him for the most part. 

After everything that’d happened between then, she needed some time to think. And she couldn’t do that with him harassing her. She’d sent him a text explaining that and he hadn’t tried to contact her since, until today. He knew she was leaving and probably wanted to say goodbye. But she was in no mood to be guilted into giving him sympathy. She was a little anxious about flying and needed to focus on getting to her flight on time.

She made her way through security and was soon at the gate. At a cafe close to the gate, she purchased a muffin that was nearly the size of her head and an enormous latte. Then, carrying them to the gate, she sat in one of the chairs near the window to watch the planes taxi to and from the terminal.

The hum of conversation, the clatter of cups on saucers, the announcements over the loudspeakers, it all blended together as her thoughts drifted away to another time and place. 

She and Cam had driven to Double Island Point for some four-wheel driving, a swim in the pristine waters, and a picnic on the sand. It was a beautiful day. One she’d remember for a long time. They were falling in love, or at least she thought so. Their relationship was new and exciting—when every look, every touch, sent a tingle across her skin and up her spine.

She’d laid back on the towel, in the sand, and glanced up at the colourful beach umbrella overhead. It couldn’t cut the glare though, so she reached for a pair of oversized, dark sunglasses and slipped them on. Her wet hair cooled her head, and her blue bikini looked bright against the brown of the towel and the pale golden sand.

“Do you ever think about having a family?” he’d asked, with a glance in her direction.

She smiled. “Sometimes.”

“And?”

“I’d like one. Someday,” she said. “If I meet the right person.”

He’d feigned a stab to the heart. “Ouch.”

“You know what I mean.”

He sat on the towel next to her, rested his elbows on his bent knees. “I’d like kids.”

“How many?” She sat up.

“Two, I think.”

“I want four,” she’d replied.

His eyebrows climbed high above his sunglasses. “Four? That’s a lot.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I like kids. They’re fun, and they don’t judge you.”

“Four kids, huh? I could live with that.”

She’d felt such a warmth drift through her spirit in that moment. As though they were both on the same path. He wanted the same things she did. He saw her as a potential wife, someone to build a family with. It was romantic and touching. She thought she’d found her person at twenty-three years old. It was perfect timing. She was ready to settle down and start a family. And it seemed he was too.

But two years later, nothing much had changed. He’d never spoken of having a family again. Hadn’t mentioned picking out a ring or marriage. And every month that passed by, he’d pulled away from her a little at a time, until they barely spoke about anything meaningful. She hadn’t noticed at first. Now, looking back, she could see the trajectory of their relationship spiralling, but she couldn’t figure out why. She tried ruminating over the various stages of their two years together but drew a blank. All she could think was that maybe he didn’t appreciate her. He said he loved her, but did he really?

She’d been so blind. 

To so many things.

Who was she? Where was she from … really? Was she in love? Did she have brothers and sisters? What about her parents?

There were so many questions running about her thoughts like whirligig beetles skating across a river. And she had no answers. Not yet, anyway. That’s what the trip would be about. Finding answers. Discovering the truth after all these years. There’d been so many secrets, so much buried. She didn’t know who to trust anymore. Everyone had lied to her. Or maybe some of them had lied and others hadn’t known they were lying. Was it still lying if you didn’t know? 

Stella hadn’t lied. Her sister was one of the few people she trusted completely. Although she’d seen the look on Stella’s face when she finally understood that nothing she’d been told was true. Stella may not have known, but she suspected, at the very least, because it wasn’t a shock to her. Not in the way it had been to Matilda. Not in the my whole world is coming crashing down around me kind of way that had shaken Matilda to her core. That wasn’t the way it happened for Stella, she could tell. Her sister’s eyes always gave her away. But she claimed not to know a thing, of course. So did both of their brothers. Innocent, naive, unaware—whichever way she sliced it, they claimed to be in the dark as much as she was. And no one seemed to know what to do next. They didn’t support her journey;  they all thought she was crazy for trying. That she’d only bring herself heartache. And of course, they were probably right. What did she know?

“Georgia.”

She said the word beneath her breath, then quickly looked around to see if anyone heard. No one seated at the gate was paying her any attention. A girl two seats over had headphones in and was slumped down in her chair, eyes shut. There was an elderly couple a few chairs over, trying their best to pull on compression stockings, their bare feet resting on top of their joggers while they argued back and forth about the best way to manage it—roll or fold, pull first or bunch up around the ankle and then pull.

Georgia was a place she’d never once thought about in her entire life. And now it could be the very crux of everything she needed to know about herself. It might hold all the answers. Or it could be a complete dead end.

What did she know about the place? Heat. It was supposed to be hot and humid. And the locals had thick accents. The word peaches sprang to mind, followed quickly by football and hot wings. And she was out. She didn’t know one more thing about the southern state. She’d looked it up briefly before booking her flight but didn’t have time to investigate any more than that. She could do that now, since she was seated at the gate with nothing else going on, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Her anxiety was playing up, and the last thing she needed was to stoke that particular bear any more than she had to. No, she’d rather show up in Georgia and find her way from there. She’d booked a hotel for the first night. But after that, she’d have to figure it out. And the thought of that made her head spin.

This was a good thing, she reminded herself. She was twenty-five years old and had never really challenged herself. Had never travelled like most young Australians did. Had never faced down the unknown. And it was time. She didn’t want to become a nervous invalid who couldn’t manage a plane flight without a panic attack. She was a veterinarian, rock climber, marathon runner, and kayaker. She could handle a little bit of open-ended travel. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to navigate her way through an English-speaking country. 

But it wasn’t the travel that caused the knot in her stomach. Whatever lay in wait for her, however the truth revealed itself, she wasn’t sure she could handle it. It might derail her entire sense of self. Her identity was hanging by a thread. She wasn’t the type for an existential crisis. But she’d loved her parents with every ounce of her being, and she didn’t want that to change now they were gone.

She sighed. Whatever she uncovered when she arrived at her destination would change everything. Was she ready for that?

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