I thought maybe I would walk down to Queen Street and pick up my carrying bag that I left at Cindy’s house. Cindy used to be my piano tutor. She’s a professional piano player. But mostly, she just works in a wine shop. One day, she’s going to quit though and just play piano full time in concerts and performances all over the world.
I had left this really cool bag at her house. It was this over-the-shoulder carrying bag with a picture of a bird and some grapes on it. The picture had the bird flying down and eating some of the grapes, and I thought it looked really nice. I liked that bag quite a lot. But a while ago I left it at Cindy’s house, and I hadn’t picked it up yet. I’d certainly been meaning to; I just never got around to it. I figured that since I didn’t really have too much to do, I could wander down and get it. I mean I did have my essay to write, but I wasn’t quite feeling up to it yet. I thought maybe I could start it a little bit later in the day.
Cindy lived in an apartment on Queen Street, which I always thought was pretty cool. Living in the city like that, with all this stuff going on around you. I thought it must be pretty exciting. But even cooler than that was that she worked in this wine shop. What made it so cool was that the wine shop was right below her apartment. I mean directly underneath it. It took her about two seconds to get to work in the morning. She just went out her door, down some stairs, and on to Queen Street. Then she was right next to the front door of the wine shop. She went in, and suddenly, she was already there at work. Right like that. It was so cool. I would love to be able to do that.
I headed towards Queen Street. The wind had started to pick up, and I was feeling sort of cold. I thought maybe I should get my jumper out of my bag and put it on to keep warm. I pulled one arm out of my bag’s arm strap and twisted it around so it was on my front. I was trying to look through it, but it was very difficult. I had to try to focus on both my feet and my hands at the same time. My feet because I was walking and my hands because they were trying to open my bag. I started going a bit wacky and tripping all over the place. I think two or three times I started tripping down the hill but just managed to stop myself from falling over. It was crazy. I decided to stop walking so I could just focus on my hands for a moment. I leaned against a wall and finally found my jumper. I thought it would probably be a good idea to put it on before I started walking again, so I did. It was just a dark grey jumper, but it was very warm. I was feeling quite cosy just then.
Cindy lived right down the end of Queen Street, almost by the water. If you go right down the end, you’ll get to the sea. Sometimes I like going down there to see what’s going on. But it’s usually just the same old stuff. There are always lots of waves and seagulls. I used to have a friend that was a seagull when I was younger.
I first met my seagull friend when I was only a little girl. My dad had been driving me to school, and we drove past the retirement home that was on our street. We always drove past it, because we always drove the same way. There was this big lamppost on the corner of the retirement home. One of those really tall ones, taller than any house anywhere. With a big bulb on top, so that at nighttime, it would light up and you could see everything. Very occasionally, on special days, I would see something. Something right on the very tip top of the lamppost. A seagull. I remember the first time I saw it. It was just standing there, looking out over everything in the morning. I thought it was very interesting. I couldn’t stop staring at it the whole time we were going past in the car. I’m not sure why. I bent my neck up against the window of the car, even pushing my cheek into the glass a bit, just to get a better look. And not only that, but even the seagull looked back at me! It was so strange. The whole time we were going past, while I was staring at it, it was staring back at me! It moved its little head, watching me go down the road. Then, that day at school, I felt very happy. I just felt happy the whole day, thinking about that seagull looking down at me. It was pretty weird. But it just looked so nice standing up there.
Then, a few weeks later, I saw him again. I had decided it was a him, for some reason. He was up on top of that same lamppost. He must have been the same seagull, because he looked exactly the same. I know he was the same one. He was standing there the exact same way. I got so excited.
“Dad, look! There he is again, the seagull!” I said. I had told my dad all about him after the first time. My dad couldn’t really look though, because he had to focus on driving. But he took a quick peek.
“You’re right, there he is,” he said. “He’s keeping an eye on you for me.”
Then, every day, I started looking out for him. I would always get really excited in the morning, waiting to see if he was there again. Eventually me and my dad decided to name him Gulligan. Gulligan the seagull. I thought it was very clever. I realised pretty soon that he was a lucky seagull. Every morning that I saw him, it meant I was going to have a good day. And I always did. Sometimes it would mean I would get to watch a movie in school. Or it would mean that I would find a chocolate bar in my lunch box. Or anything else. But there would always be something good that happened on those days. It was so strange. I couldn’t explain it. Once I even thought Gulligan might be God. I saw him maybe fifty times when I was a kid. Then, eventually, he just stopped showing up. I never knew why. And I sort of just slowly forgot about him.
I went past a lot of shops while I was walking. I was having quite a nice time looking at all of them when this very loud car went past me. Most cars are sort of loud if you’re kind of close to them, but this one was super loud. It was the exhaust pipe, where all the pollution comes out of. They had one of those special ones that make a really loud noise. I had to put both of my fingers into my ear holes, because it was so loud. I hate cars like that. And loud motorbikes too. If I was president of the world, I would ban all loud things like that.
I saw the sign for the wine shop, and so I knew I was there. I wasn’t sure if Cindy would be working or not. I didn’t know what days she worked, but I figured it didn’t matter. If she wasn’t in the shop, then hopefully she would be up in her apartment. I went in through the glass door. I always felt guilty going into alcohol shops. It’s because people always think I’m very young. I have quite a young-looking face. Even though I’m twenty-two, they always think I’m about sixteen. Every time I go into a place like that, people always stare at me and think I’m going to break the law by being under aged. Like just a few months ago, I was on the bus. It was quite full, so I sat down next to this old lady. Even if I didn’t even look at her, I would have known she was old. She had that old lady smell. She kind of smelled like incense and mint lollies. But when I sat down next to her, she was very friendly. She said hello to me right away. I thought that was very nice of her. There aren’t many people who would say anything at all to you when you sit next to them on a bus. She seemed like a very friendly lady. We started chatting a little bit, and then she said, “Why aren’t you in school today?” She thought I was still meant to be in high school! I hadn’t been in high school for about four years. I told her I went to university instead, and she seemed very surprised when I said that. I think she thought I was very young, but I wasn’t.
When I went into the wine shop, I straight away saw Cindy there at the desk. She was just looking at a magazine, because there was no one else in the shop. Cindy was from China. Well, mostly her parents were. She wasn’t born in China, so she didn’t have an accent or anything. I know you’re not meant to say those sorts of things, because you might accidentally be racist, but it’s the truth. She had straight black shoulder-length hair that was hanging down while she read. I think Cindy was about twenty-nine or something. I’m not really too sure, actually. But she looked very young. She looked like she could have been in university with me. She had this very nice dark olive skin. I personally myself like to have very pale skin. But if I had to choose something else, I would like her sort of skin. It looked very good on her. She was wearing these tight jeans and this grey singlet with quite a high neck on it. But the sides were cut very low, even past the side of her bra. She looked up at me.
“Franny,” she said. I think she was surprised to see me. I hadn’t seen her in about three years. I had decided to stop playing piano in my first year of university, when I started becoming too busy. I walked up to the counter.
“Hey, Cindy,” I said. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” She sounded a little bit bored. She’s always sounded like that the whole time I’ve known her, though. She always sort of sounds like she’s not interested in talking to you, but I think it’s just her normal voice. “Same old crap,” she said. She often swore quite a lot, too. “Still working in this place. How about you?”
But all I said was, “I’m sorry I had to stop getting piano tutoring from you.” I suddenly felt a bit guilty now that I saw her. I remember when I cancelled, I didn’t even tell her myself. I got my dad to ring and tell her for me, because I didn’t want to admit it to her. She had taught me for about six years, and I didn’t even tell her myself that I was quitting. It was a pretty rotten thing for me to do. “It’s just that when I started university—”
“Don’t worry about it, shit happens. I’m not really doing much tutoring these days, anyway. I got sick of it. If you didn’t break it off, I probably would have pretty soon anyway. If anything, you saved me the hassle of having to do it myself.” Then she laughed. I sort of laughed with her, but I still felt a bit bad for quitting. It was quiet for a moment then she said, “So are you looking for some wine, or?”
“I don’t like wine,” I said. I probably shouldn’t have said that though, since she worked in a wine shop. “I was hoping I could get my bag back from you. I left it in your apartment last time I was there.”
“Your bag?”
“Yeah. The one with the bird and the grapes on it.”
She looked like she was thinking very hard when I said that. “I’ll be honest with you, I have absolutely no memory of that at all. But we can definitely go have a look for it. Anything to get out of here.”
I followed her around the shop as she packed up some stuff. She reached into her shirt and took out a bunch of keys that were hanging around her neck. She locked the cash register, then tucked the keys back into her shirt. They were on quite a long chain, and they must have hung down between her boobs. I thought that would be quite weird, having to feel that all day. Then she got a piece of paper and wrote on it, in black marker, ‘Back in 15’. She stuck it on the inside of the glass door with a piece of tape, facing out, so that people could read it. Then we went out. She used her keys again to lock the front door.
“Are you allowed to leave?” I said. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Honestly, no one will even know. My boss leaves me here alone all day.”
I thought that was pretty cool, getting to leave whenever you wanted. Then, like I told you about, her apartment door was right next to the wine shop. It was this big metal door with no windows or anything. She got out her keys again and opened it. She certainly did have a lot of keys on that little chain. The door shut behind us with this loud bang that made me jump. We were in a narrow little space that had a big stairwell going up. There was never any elevator or anything, so we always had to walk all the way up. She lived on the sixth floor, so it was quite a workout to get there. We got up to her apartment, and she let us in. It was quite nice in there. I always thought it looked like a pretty cool place to live. It was quite big and had a lot of space to put your stuff. It opened into the living room, and the first thing you could see, on the opposite wall, was her piano. It was quite a small piano, because pianos are very expensive, so she probably couldn’t afford a very big one. She always used to tell me how much of a pain it was to even get it into the apartment. Although she didn’t say pain, she said bitch. Apparently, it was very difficult to get it up the stairs. She used to say that she wanted to get a grand piano eventually, but that she would have to move first.
One problem was that the apartment was quite cold. And wet, too. I don’t think it had very good insulation. And there was often mould growing because of how damp it got. Sometimes in places like on the windowsill, or around the edges of the clock, you could see little bits of brown mould that had started to collect. Sometimes, especially in winter, I would have to wear about four layers of clothing whenever I would go for piano tutoring. Because it was freezing in there. Luckily, it wasn’t too bad just then.
“What colour was it?” she said.
“It’s sort of white, I think. I suppose it’s cream colour or light grey maybe.” Cindy had already started walking off, I guess to look for it. I was still just standing by the doorway when she called to me from the other room.
“Just turn on the TV if you want.”
I heard a lot of noises coming from around the corner. It sounded like she was throwing stuff all over the place. Her apartment was kind of messy. It wasn’t too bad, but there was a lot of stuff everywhere. She had piles of boxes and clothes and things all around the walls. Most of it was in pretty neat piles though. But there wasn’t much space to walk around. It was a pretty big apartment, but it was all filled up with her stuff. I sat down on the couch in front of the TV. I didn’t turn it on though. I didn’t feel like watching anything.
I just sat for a while, listening to all the shuffling and banging coming from the other room. I couldn’t see what was going on, but it sounded pretty crazy. Then Cindy came back in to the living room. Her hair had gone a bit frizzy, and her singlet was all messy and scrunched up to the side, so that I could see about half of her bra. It was red, my favourite colour. Except black, that is.
“Not in there,” she said, and she started looking through all the stuff in the living room then. She was opening boxes and pushing stuff aside and tipping things over. She was making a real mess. It was very kind of her to go to so much trouble for me.
“How’s university?” she said. She knew I was at university and studying history. “You must be finishing soon, right?”
“Yeah, I have one more year.” That was a lie, though. It was meant to be my last year then. It’s just that, every time someone asks me, and I tell them that I’m finishing this year, they always ask me what I’m going to do after I graduate. And I hate trying to answer that. It’s always so awkward, because I don’t know what I’m going to do. So I never know what to say to them. So instead, I just like to say that I’m finishing next year. Then, if they still ask me what I’m going to do afterward, I can always say that I’m not sure yet, because I’m still just focusing on getting through my studies.
But Cindy was really good; she didn’t even ask me any more about it. She just said, “That’s cool.” I like Cindy a lot, actually. She’s always so easy to talk to. She never asks me hard questions.
Then I said to her, “I’m thinking about dropping out of university.” I sort of thought that maybe it would be better, instead of changing my last paper, just dropping out of my degree all together. Then it would be all done, and I wouldn’t have to worry any more. I don’t really know why I said it to her though. Usually, I try to avoid telling anyone about that kind of stuff. But I sort of felt like talking to her about it. She stopped for a second then and looked up at me.
“Really? Why?” Then she went back to looking through all the mess. I was glad that at least she wasn’t staring at me and waiting for an answer. Most people stare at you. It’s much easier to talk about something if nobody’s looking.
“Well,” I said. “The thing is that I’m having a lot of trouble lately. I’m just not interested in any of my papers. And I can’t seem to do any of the work. The thing is that I just don’t have any passion for it any more. I sort of did in my first year, a little bit. But not anymore. But that’s not so bad. I suppose I could still do it, even if I wasn’t interested, if I tried really hard. But the problem is that I’m only studying a history degree. And that doesn’t really do anything. It’s not a practical degree.” I sure was talking a lot. But Cindy was good. She just kept listening while she was looking for my bag with the bird and the grapes on it.
“I mean, you can’t really get any jobs with a history degree. It’s not like engineering, where you can be an engineer. Or chemistry, where you can become a scientist. There aren’t really many jobs for a history degree, so I don’t even see the point.”
Then Cindy said, “Franny, I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can find your bag. To be honest, I could have thrown it out ages ago. I really have no idea, but I don’t think I’ll be able to find it.”
I was kind of glad she didn’t say anything about my degree. It felt really good to tell someone about it, but I didn’t want her to start talking about my degree to me, in case she made me feel bad for wanting to quit. She came and sat down next to me. She smelled quite nice. I think I could see her sweating just a little bit, probably from all the searching, and she was wearing this perfume that I could smell. I can’t describe it, though. It’s very hard to describe a smell. But it was very pleasant.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “And look, I’ve never been to university; you know that’s not my kind of thing. So you can tell me to shut up if you want to. But I don’t think university is really about what sort of degree you get. All it really is, is one big test. It’s just one big goddamned test. And at the end, if you make it through, you come out with a degree. Just a piece of paper that says you passed. Ninety percent of the crap you learn will never have an application once you leave, that’s the truth. But it’s just something you have to go through, so that you can prove to people that you know what the hell you’re doing. You can flash that degree in an employer’s face, and maybe they’ll hire you. There’s definitely no guarantee, but it certainly helps your chances. Then, once you get your foot in the door, you can actually start learning something useful. University is mostly crap. About the only good thing it can do is it can help you learn how to learn. If you’re surrounded by the right people, in the right environment, that can go a long way to helping you develop as a person. There are other ways of doing that, sure, but a university education is about the best way to start.”
I didn’t really understand everything she was saying, but I understood some of it. And I suppose it did make sense. I just leaned over and gave her a hug and said, “Thanks.” It felt like the right thing to do. She hugged me back too, which was nice. Then I stood up. “I better get going.”
“No problem. I might just make something to eat before I head back to work. Do you want anything?”
“No thanks.” She walked me to the door.
“Sorry about your bag. But if I find it, I’ll definitely let you know.”
“That’s okay. I don’t really care about the bag too much.”
She opened the door for me and stood in the doorway as I went out. Then, as I was about to leave, she said, “Hey, do you still play the piano much?”
“No, not really,” I said.
“Yeah.” She looked quite sad. “Me neither.” Then she shut the door.