It was the turn of the millennium when I left home for the first time. For the first five years away, I was working the mines in Western Australia. I made good money from the start. The mine was miles from anywhere, so I barely had anywhere to spend my wage, and I was constantly working extras shifts and overtime, saving as much money as I could. When I wasn’t working, I was getting all the extra training I could, soon filling my CV with numerous certificates, while I started to pursue other avenues outside of mining.
I kept in touch with the family via phone calls and emails, I rarely made it back home to visit as I was intent on working as often as I could. Mining is a 24 hour, 7 days a week operation, not stopping for any reason, and for those willing to work, the benefits in regards to wage was immense. My parents understood what I was doing, particularly once I asked to open a secret account for my sister to help fund her university education. It is technically free at the time, but you pay it back through taxes later. I wanted to ensure she was educated without paying a cent. They loved that idea, and assured me the secret would be safe until I told her. I was soon transferring a fair chunk of change into that every month.
But I was done with mining after five years, looking for a different challenge, and that’s how I ended up on a flight to, of all places, the Middle East as I had transferred my skills into working in the oil industry. After five years of back-breaking work in the mines, I was now in a suit and tie as I worked out of an air-conditioned office. Again, it felt like I was miles from everywhere, but as much as I’d learned a language to honour my Mum and sister, I learned Arabic so I could at least converse with locals. Considering the state of the world after 9/11, and what was going on nearby in Iraq, I figured anyone doing the same certainly helped somewhat integrate themselves.
Life was even more droll than near the mine, though. We did abide by some of the strict local laws and customs. No alcohol. No pork. We lived on a compound for westerners, kept separate from the local population. Whether they viewed us with suspicion or not, I wasn’t sure. More than a few of us were a little concerned about shit kicking off, but I never felt in specific danger the entire time I lived there. But I made friends with plenty of Yanks, while the Saudi’s were also ever present around the compound. I made sure to befriend plenty of people over the years.
I was 28 years old when I received that phone call nearly every child dreads to receive. It was early morning, Middle Eastern time, when my phone started to ring. Picking it up, I mumbled a hello.
“Mark, it’s Mum.”
That had me wide awake in the next second, sitting up in bed. “Mum, what’s wrong?” I asked, immediately speaking Japanese. Didn’t even think about it. But she never called at this time in the morning. I heard a sniffle and asked softly, “Mum, is it Dad?”
“He’s in the hospital, Mark. He’s had a heart attack.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s alive, but he’s not well. I’m not sure…”
“Fuck.” I took a breath. “Sorry, Mum.”
“Can you come home, Mark? It’s been a long time.”
It had been too long since I’d been home, but I’d been far too wrapped up in my own life. Considering where I was in the world, trips to Europe were far more convenient. Paris. Rome. Berlin. London. Amsterdam. I was a young Australian with money to burn, and being honest, I enjoyed the company of a few young women during my weekend trips away. I was tall, tanned from years in the sun, dark hair, dark eyes, kept myself fit. I didn’t beat them off with a stick, but I was practically celibate while at work, so I let loose while on my occasional trip away.
But I’d been away from home for a decade by now. I had more than enough money, more than enough to live comfortably by doing something less stressful. I had no desire to do the job for the rest of my life. It had been a means to an end.
“I’m coming home, Mum. I’ll book the next flight out to Sydney. I’ll let you know when I get home. How’s Hanako-chan?”
“Beside herself with worry, but she wants to see her big brother too. She definitely needs you, at least in person this time. She figured out everything you’ve done for her since you left though.”
“Always was a smart girl. Okay, let me make some calls, and I’ll let you know.”
First thing that morning, I spoke to my boss about what was going on. He knew, once I’d left, I wouldn’t come back. Thankfully, the company I worked for, while they didn’t have offices in Sydney, they did have subsidiaries that did operate out of the city where I could possibly transfer. But I had a great relationship with my boss, so he told me to go home, take care of my family, and the rest would sort itself over time. Considering I’d barely taken a holiday in ten years, I’d earned plenty of time off since starting in the oil business so I could almost go on indefinite leave.
Flying home business class, simply for comfort as, even though I wasn’t as tall as some people, I still wanted the leg room, I landed in Sydney rather bleary eyed only three days later, having spent two days sorting out my life and the likely transfer of my life finally back to my homeland. After passing through customs and immigration, my passport barely earning a glance compared to certain parts of the world I’d travelled, I grabbed my bags and wandered out into the arrivals hall.
Mum was generally reserved from what I remembered, but seeing me appear led to a call of my name, a fifty-year old Japanese-Australian lady running towards the tall, tanned Australian. I opened my arms, hugging her tightly. “Hello, Mum,” I whispered. She just cried, barely able to get a word out otherwise. Closing my eyes, I just enjoyed feeling her in my arms for the first time in more years than I cared to remember. She still smelled the same too. Kissing her forehead, she leaned back and smiled, still unable to stay anything.
Then she let me go, standing to my side, and I saw Hanako in the flesh for the first time in years. She was… the most gorgeous human being I’d ever seen in my life. I’m fairly sure I stood there, jaw gaping, and I think she did start to blush.
Hanako was now 22 years old. I would turn 29 before her next birthday, so there was around six and a half years between us. She had raven-black, incredibly straight shoulder length hair, gorgeous brown eyes, an almost flawless complexion and an entirely innocent expression on her face and in her eyes, something she’d kept from when she was knee-high to a grasshopper. I took the picture from my wallet, the one I’d carried with me since I left. It had faded, but I held it next to her face. “Someone’s all grown up,” I whispered. That made the smile widen but the tears start to fall. “Still as pretty as I remember, Hanako-chan,” I whispered in fluent Japanese, before I held her in my arms.
“Marko-san,” she whispered. She rarely called me that. I was just ‘Mark’ to the family.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I am worried about father, but now that my big brother is home, I suddenly feel all is right in the world.”
She was barely five-five, lifting her chin to greet my eyes. Hers were so expressive, I felt my heart beat slightly faster in my chest. Leaving a soft kiss on her forehead, she sighed, seemingly happy to simply have me home again. Mum appeared at our side, a beaming smile. “She missed you,” she said.
“I know, Mum. I… should have come home sooner. Can we go see Dad?”
“You’re up for it now?” I returned a firm nod. “Okay, the car is parked outside. We’ll head there straight away.” I glanced around to see a few glances at the obvious westerner speaking fluently in another language. Even at that time, few Australians would speak anything other than English. I happily spoke Japanese with Mum and my sister, easily switching between that and English with barely a thought.
I sat in the back as the flight had been long, and even in business class, I found trying to sleep quite difficult. Adding to what was on my mind, and little wonder I didn’t exactly have a lot of shut-eye. Just like the journey to the airport nearly a decade earlier, Hanako sat in the middle of the back seat and cuddled next to me, though she wasn’t the same size, no longer the little girl I remembered fondly, now a woman. Mum would look in the rear-view mirror when stopped and see her cuddling me, meeting my eyes and smiling.
“She really missed her big brother.”
“Are you staying?” she asked softly.
I wrapped my arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. “I am this time, Hana. I’ve been away long enough.” Hearing that earned a very wet kiss on the cheek before she snuggled back into me.
Arriving at the hospital, though I was ever so weary, I had to see my father. Mum led me towards his ward, my sister holding and squeezing my hand. I glanced to see her wiping her cheeks more than once. I could only imagine the whirl of emotion she was experiencing. The fear of losing our father but joy in my return.
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