Once Upon A Wave

I. I Fell Into Paradise

The onslaught of heat beat down my back, hot wind coiled around my slightly damp body. Gold Coast's harsh sun pierced my skin, and I heaved a sigh, wiping the sweat away from my brows. I've been out here for a massive two minutes, and I swear there are already wet patches underneath my arm pits.

"Come on, keep up!" My mother called from in front of me, waving frantically at a taxi driver who is now pulling over. I gritted my teeth, the leather of my back pack gripping onto my skin, and I tugged, almost annoyingly, at the two suitcases– one of which is broken might I add– I was dragging along behind me, all the while trying not to drop the large duffel bag I had hooked dangerously around my arm. I managed to catch up to my mother just as she passed her suitcase to the hoary driver, who lifted an eyebrow at my state. What, I can't help the fact that I sweat very easily. My mother is already in the passenger's seat, and I looked back to see the driver slamming his trunk shut.

He gestured for me to get in, before jogging to the other side, appearing to not want to stay under the heat for one moment longer. Me and you both, buddy. Getting into the taxi swiftly, a sigh fell from my mouth as cool air surrounded my heated body. The breeze from the air conditioning gently caressed my burning skin. My head lolled back against the plastic cover, my mother's voice being droned out as my exhaustion took over.

Just coming off the two hour plane flight, it is currently thirty minutes past eight in the morning. After getting virtually no sleep in our air condition-less apartment, for I was way too excited to go on this trip to even consider sleeping, the lack of rest is quickly clouding my mind.

This is the first time since I was eight years old, to ever travel in a plane.

"Chanel." I opened my eyes lazily, catching my mother's gaze over the rear view mirror. "Oh, you are resting. We will be arriving in Surfers Paradise soon sweetheart." I gave her a small lipped smile, before closing my eyes once more. It has always been this way. Just the two of us. My father has been inconsistently in and out of my life, coming and going. Sometimes when he gets piss drunk, he would tell me that the only reason my mother and father got married was because I was conceived. My father's side of the family has very traditional values. Especially my grandmother. If I show even a slit of my stomach, she will go absolutely mental. For an old lady, she is still as scary as any.

My parents– they did not have a good marriage. There was no ceremony, no wedding gowns, no exchange of rings, no love. It was a slip of paper that contained the two of their signatures, and that was all. There was a period in my life, when I could remember that my father was still around in our lives, like a family. Although I should be glad to have them both present, I could still feel the misery that lingered around the six year old me as if it were yesterday.

Dinner time used to be the worst time of the day. Every night, around the glass dinner table, we would sit down in tense silence, and then something smaller than a grain of rice would evoke a hurricane of arguments that got me sent to the bedroom, in my parent's vain hope to keep me oblivious as to what they were fighting about. It was when I turned seven, that my mother received the all clear to move us to Australia, and attempt to obtain a citizenship. My father refused to come, maybe because he was too scared of his mother. Which was ironic, because he threatened to throw my mother under a bus every time they argued.

Life was– difficult to say the least. We came with just enough money to do what we had to in order to get the citizenship. I was ripped from my childhood the day we landed on Australian soil. My mother worked in three different jobs to pay the rent, I made sure I never added to her stress, learning how to pay the bills and do the tax, buy the groceries and cook dinner as soon as I was capable. The two of us, with the little we had, had actually managed to start a life here. My lips quirked up to a small pained smile. But no matter what, our situation would always be better than some other people.