"I didn't even get a drink, y'know?"
Hope was a relatively tall Greek girl, with a tan, a mangy blonde ponytail, and a garish orange t-shirt. She had a large oat chai latte from the train station kiosk, made the trashy way, with powder, just the way she liked it. Her knee was bouncing.
"Like, I've been to my friends 18th, for a celebratory night at the pub. Strongest thing I got was a lemon lime bitters. Had something similar planned, but I got the call for this a couple months ago and it wasn't like I could say no, y'know? So no party for me. Well, we did have a party, just a little one, in the park, with one of those trashy mud cakes from Woolies. No booze. Well, between you and me, there was some booze. Not like anyones checking my ID in a public park. Still not like a 'first drink' situation. So my first legal drink will probably be in some beautiful foreign city. Do you want to come?" Hope asked.
"Mhm." Cindy said. She was shorter, bony, half-Asian girl from Seattle with a clumsy bleach job and a matching orange shirt.
In front of the pair was the city of Sydney, and a parking space where their bus was supposed to be.
The Australian girls monologue was far, far too much for her. So was the sun, the noise, and the Sydney summer as a whole. She was very, very tired.
She had also failed to find a Starbucks.
At that same train station kiosk she had asked for a caramel macchiato.
"Are you sure? That's a uh-" the barista said.
"Mhm." She replied.
"Short or long?"
That question physically rocked her.
Blearily, she replied "... Long?"
"Alrighty mate, that'll be $5.50..."
That seemed cheap but she didn't really care. She was too jet lagged to watch for red flags.
That caught up with her when the barista called out her number.
It was too small, the cup was too small. Why do they even make cups that small? Surely that's meant for, like, a takeaway shot or something-
"Miss?"
Cindy had been silently, gently rocking in place, her had outstretched towards but not yet touching her coffee.
There was a line behind her.
She looked to the barista, distraught and plaintive. She tried to speak and just pointed at herself.
"Yes, you. Long mac with a pump of caramel. It's the morning rush and I need the space, please."
She took it and scuttled over to the bench, where her suitcase was sitting with an anxious blonde girl from some part of Australia.
That was a few minutes ago and now the coffee was cold.
Cindy had taken off the lid to discover her $5.50 shot cup was 30% caramel, 60% strong coffee, 10% milk. It smelled kinda foul, but she had paid for it, and it was caffeine. These facts had been in her mind while the blonde girl talked.
"I haven't looked at the itinerary too much to be honest, so maybe that stop will be in Vietnam, or New Zealand, or Peru. Oh! Maybe they'll have drinks on the boat. Did you read much about the trip?" Hope asked.
"Mhm." Cindy said.
Cindy had resolved to drink the coffee.
She took a deep breath, knocked on the wooden bench, and clenched her offhand into a fist.
"Are you alright?" Hope asked.
"Mhm." Cindy said, shakily nodding.
"Cheers," she said, raising the cup like a shot of vodka.
She went for it.
It got halfway down before she threw up.
Hope caught up to her in the bathroom.
Cindy was on her knees, head over the toilet bowl, retching. Caramel and coffee flavoured spew was dripping down her shirt.
"Oh god, oh fuck-" the tall girl said.
Cindy said "heurghk-" and a little bile came up.
Hope edged in, and started picking up the other girls hair, holding it back so it wouldn't get dirtier. It wasn't something she'd done before but it felt universal, in a way. Hope smiled. Cindy either understood or didn't notice. She was still bent over a toilet bowl in the public bathroom of Sydney Central Station.
A few more retches, as well as some pats on the back, and some reassuring words later Cindy was back to her senses. Her eyes were red and clogged, in addition to the deep, pre-existing bags from insomnia. She was clearly having a bad day. Hope was feeling better because she had something to do.
"Let's get you cleaned up, alright?" She asked.
"Mhm." Cindy responded glumly.
The tall blonde girl had brought her backpack when she chased after Cindy, and began to unpack that on a counter. It had a small bag of toiletries and a change of clothes.
While the Asian girl was washing her face, she took a swill of an offered water bottle, before swirling and spitting the liquid into the sink. It came out brown and slightly chunky. More water, than some mouthwash.
"It's also in your hair," Hope offered.
Cindy nodded, "mhm," and washed the ends a bit. Hope got a hairbrush and started cleaning them up. She cringed - the bleached ends of Cindy's hairdo felt crusty even without the vomit.
When that was done there was the next question -
"What about your shirt?"
Cindy vocalised something incoherent. It was a problem not just because it was a dirty shirt, but because the branded orange shirts were being used to identify passengers for the voyage. It's Hope had spotted Cindy, and started talking at her. The second half of the problem was that Cindy's luggage was outside and she didn't want to run topless through the station.
Hope replied. "I have a spare in my bag, well, I slept in it last night but it doesn't smell too bad. Better than... that." She gestured at the spew stain. Cindy pondered it for a moment, and nodded.
Hope passed her the shirt, the bottle of water, and a small plastic bag, before letting her duck into the stall.
While the other girl was wiping at an unfortunate bra stain, Hope got to thinking. She hadn't been totally honest in her ramblings. Calling her 18th/Going Away Party a "party", even "a little one" was an overstatement. Hope and two friends had caught up, briefly, some weeks after graduation. She had a single vodka cruiser.
It had been awkward.
Summer, or, really, the wet season was well underway in Cairns, so their plans quickly devolved from a picnic to cooking snags on the communal barbie and hiding in the gazebo. There had been cards.
It's not like Hope only had two friends, or, well, that's what she assumed. She had invited like ten more people, but as the date ticked closer they all, slowly, became unavailable. Work and plans and colds-the usual suspects.
The rain came down heavy, that day. They never finished the cake - Hope wasn't hungry.
This, though, this was, oddly, nice. Maybe they weren't friends yet, but she hoped they would be. Eventually. The other girl was odd, really odd, but she had to have something interesting going on. Everyone on the cruise would. That was the theory, at least. Five hundred extraordinary eighteen-year-olds, each talented or gifted in some unique way. Poets, singers, acrobats, scientists, engineers- and Hope. She just liked plants.
She packed away the rest of her bag, mouthwash, hairbrush, pills, and she made a mental note - holding another girls hair while she vomited. Was that a bucket list item? In hindsight, yes.
This year, this cruise was another shot, for her.
A clean slate, a chance to be the best version of herself, to be the best friend possible. A whole world of people who saw her as she was now, with no background, no baggage, no fucked up puberty. People who only knew her by one name - the one she'd chosen. Hope.
The shirt was too big and it kinda smelled - like sweat, chocolate, and cinnamon. It was also bright pink. Decidedly un-Cindy. But it was, at least, unstained. Before going out again, she slumped down on the toilet lid. Get out there! Make some memories! This is a once in a life time- she slammed her head against the wall.
A voice called out - "Um, are you okay?"
"Mhm!" Cindy responded.
Caramel macchiato.
Vanilla syrup, small thing of espresso, good bit of milk, fluffy, with caramel sauce on top. Sweet, just enough to mask the coffee flavour, but not to overwhelm it. She learned the recipe when her closest Starbucks unionised and got shut down.
God, she missed it.
Cindy was a girl who appreciated her comforts - big sweaters, dark rooms, loud speakers and caramel macchiatos.
God, it hadn't even been 24 hours and she was already at her breaking point. It was so bright here. The station was bright, the sky was bright - even compared to California, let alone wintry Seattle. It was true what they said, the sky really is bluer in Australia. It made her want to throw up. Hah! She already had.
She hadn't really slept on either of the flights, and her phone was out of power. She didn't even have her music.
Day fucking zero and she was barely functioning. What was she thinking?
Sure, whatever, once in a lifetime Cindy! Fuck that. It's a privilege!
It had been odd, getting that email. Voyage of the NS Scholarly Pursuit. It wasn't even on the news back then, still in the don't call us, we'll call you phase.
Really, what it was, what it was clearly going to be was a 12 month long summer camp on a nuclear icebreaker, either in the middle of the ocean or on the other side of the world. Full of her least favourite things; meeting new people and leaving her comfort zone. The comfort zone was fine! She had won awards in her fucking comfort zone. Globally recognised fucking awards-!
But she was here, now. Other side of the world. Tickets paid for. Her computer setup was already on the boat.
Too late to back out.
On the other side of the door was someone who wanted to talk to her. Who wanted to know she was okay. That, at least, that wasn't so bad.
Cindy emerged, red eyed and deeply frazzled. That, plus the oversized, awkward looking t-shirt gave the impression of someone who was, to put it gently, going through it.
Hope had been sitting on the bench, looking at the door, nervous, smiling, fidgeting.
"Are you okay?" Hope asked.
Cindy paused in the door.
She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts.
"Not... really. I'm very tired."
Hope stopped fidgeting.
"Makes sense, I bet you had a long flight."
"Mh- yeah. Nineteen hours."
"Fuck me sideways."
Cindy didn't get that one.
Hope started to ramble.
"I-I don't mean literally. It's a figure of speech, like, damn, or, wow, or dear lord, or-"
"Cultural differences. It's alright." Cindy offered.
Hope stopped, and remembered to breathe.
"Thanks," Hope said, fidgeting a bit.
"Thank you. I would have been even more of a mess. I didn't bring another shirt."
"Happy to help, really, any time. Don't worry about it. Does that mean you were in that for nineteen hours?"
Cindy spoke slowly and steadily, "it was more like twenty three, and... No. I mean it. Thank you."
"It was nothing, you needed help so I helped. That's all there is to it." Hope replied.
"... Okay."
They had run out of things to say. Hope started fidgeting again. She caught herself, and said-
"Um, actually, can I ask you a question? It might be kinda dumb."
Cindy scrunched up her lip.
"... Sure."
Hope took a deep breath.
"What's your name?"
It struck Cindy like a bat. She didn't even know my name-?!
"I, ah, oh. Cindy. Lucinda. Bishop-Liow. I'm from Seattle."
"Do you just go by Cindy?"
"Yeah."
"Cool."
Cindy nodded gently and tried to avoid eye contact.
Hope looked at her.
"Oh, yeah, sorry, very tired. What's your name?"
Hope smiled, just a little bit. She stopped fidgeting.
"Hope, Hope Dimitriou. I'm from Cairns, which is also in Australia. It's basically a small town really far north near the rainforest."
Cindy nodded slightly.
"Cool."
"Thanks."
Again, they had run out of conversation.
Cindy asked "what did you do with our bags?"
"Oh! I left them with some nice old ladies."
"Yeah, I suppose, alright."
"What was up with the coffee?"
Cindy took a deep breath.
"Back home, at Starbucks, they have this drink that's like, caramel, and vanilla, and just a little bit of coffee. I was trying to order that."
A light went off in Hope's brain.
"Oh! Caramel macchiato? And they gave you a long mac with a pump of caramel? That's, oh, I," Hope started quietly giggling. She caught herself. "Like you were saying, cultural differences."
"It was disgusting."
"It would be! I work at a café back home, sometimes we get American tourists ordering Starbucks drinks and we have to give them this whole spiel-"
"Great."
"Sorry, yeah. Are you feeling okay now? Less nauseous?"
"A bit."
"I'm glad." Hope pulled out her phone and started searching something.
"What's up?" Cindy asked.
Hope took a moment.
"There's actually a Starbucks downstairs, if you-"
Cindy stood up straight.
"Downstairs?"
Hope smiled and hopped off the counter.
"Do you wanna check it out?"
"Mh... Yes."
"Alrighty then," she said with a big smile, leading the suddenly alert American out of the toilet.
"Why a caramel macchiato, if you don't mind my asking?" Hope asked.
"It's just, nice, and warm, and sweet, and comforting and it keeps me alert when I'm writing." Cindy said.
"Oooh, what do you write?"
"Music, well, technically it's composing."
"You're a composer? That's so cool."
Cindy smiled, "yeah, it really is. I've only had my work performed a few times but-"
"Performed? Like with a band?"
"Not really, it's usually with an orchestra."
"AN ORCHESTRA?!" Hope asked/yelled.
Cindy smiled more. It was infectious.
Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad.