MelbouRne, I think (because theRe aRe tRams)
Hey Jubilee, do you live in a city?
I don’t know how you could bear it. It’s so noisy. Trams dinging and rumbling. People shouting. Cars everywhere, some of them so close that I’m scared they’ll run right into me. And then I’ll never get the chance to shout, ‘Surprise!’
Ha ha. Joke.
There are smells, too. Car smells, making me choke. Food smells, whizzing past my nose before I can grab them.
I’m so hungry. And thirsty. And scared—
Hang on, I think we’re going down a ramp. It feels different from the street. Quieter. Darker.
And now we’ve stopped. Not just at a traffic light. Stopped completely. Engine off.
My foot’s cramping. My tummy’s so empty I’d eat anything, even tinned spaghetti, which I hate.
Delphine’s car door opens and she gets out. I brace myself.
But she doesn’t open the boot, she just stands there. She must be using her phone, because I hear her say, ‘I’m in the underground car park, Ashlee. Come down and help.’
Then she leans against the car (I feel it move) and waits.
I wait, too.
A lift rumbles. A door opens and shuts. Footsteps walk towards us.
A voice says, ‘Why can’t you do it yourself? Why do I always have to carry stuff?’
I know that voice.
I know it really well. Though it no longer has an American accent.
It’s you, Jubilee.
It’s you.
from Tracy