Northern Exposure: Episode One

  Chapter 2

  I sat in my old beat down recliner, rocking back and forth looking outside my window. This place had become my favourite spot in the entire apartment. I had come across the abandoned chair in the street, and dragged it all the way up to my apartment. I loved the old battered up thing. As the sun set I watched the crimson halo fall over the city and realised how beautiful this place was. It was a late Sunday afternoon and only a few people walked the quite streets. Lovers passed by the street below, intertwined in each other’s embrace. I laughed as I watched how the guy tried getting his footing right as his girl squeezed his so tightly. In the distance an old man and what I presumed to be his grandson threw a ball back and forth. The city was at peace once again.

  It has been around six months since the tremors hit the city and there has been no explanation for what caused them. People had lost interest and realised they were not going to find the origin of the quakes, so they carried on with their lives and moved onto the next hot topic. Conversations ceased and pretty much everything had gone back to the way it was, well for most people that is!

  Truthfully those tremors were the best thing that ever happened to me, I must have been the only person in the entire city so grateful for that day. In a twisted coincidence the horror and terror of that day had helped shape my life in ways I could only imagine. It’s as if the universe had spun the wheel of fortune and I landed on the jackpot. I can only try my best in explaining how the events of that day turned everything so right for me.

  Antonio the Head Chef at La Casa decided he did not feel safe anymore and moved to a little town Bayville, outside the city. The spot was left open with only me as an appropriate candidate and soon I got the promotion. I had total control in the kitchen; I changed the Old Italian style menu opting for something new and hip. I got rid of all the old frozen stock and introduced cheaper fresher methods of cooking. Things were going good and my boss was happy with the direction I was taking her establishment in. Soon I was offered an even higher pay check then intended. But my career success was just the tip of the iceberg; other positive unforeseen circumstances began affecting my new way of life as well.

  The leaky sink pipe in the kitchen had caused so much water damage in the walls that they finally gave out, which in turn flooded my entire apartment. I was fortunately not in the apartment when it all went down, or id be swimming in there with the rest of my stuff. Everything was soaked from my carpets to my shoes in the cupboards, nothing was left dry. To top it all off the electricity box was showered by the spraying pipes which cut all my power. Now this sounds terrible I understand, but what followed was a little blessing in disguise. The building manger was forced to relocate me to the vacant two bedroom next door for the same price as my one bedroom unit, and after putting all my stuff on my “New” balcony, which I may add was nonexistent in my previous unit. Everything soon dried up in the hot summer sun and in no time I had made the new unit home.

  The tremors had also reignited the bond between my father and I. We had not spoken since I had moved to the city. He believed I should have been in South Africa helping him run the family fishery. He was a good man but his ways were old fashion. He wasn’t trying to spite me; he just did not know how to address the topic. He supported me in all my endeavours, but I knew I broke his heart when I left. However after the reports they received on the television about the tremors my father threw all grudges away and was only concerned about my safety. We would chat at least twice a week for hours, killing time while speaking about the most irrelevant things. But all this was nothing compared to the main focus of my life now, Layla.

  Layla and my bond had blossomed from a friendship into something more serious. We had covered all the stages of building a strong relationship. From greeting each other in the hall, to going for coffee, to movies at each other’s apartments, to the first night we made love to the eventual living together stage. To think it all started thanks to the tremors. The very next evening after our little incident she came up to my apartment with a hand full of Chinese takeout and a six pack of beers. We sat on the couch for a while unsure of what to say to each other. I mean we hardly knew each other, and the two times we did meet were anything but sensual. But it did not take long to bring up the conversation of the tremors. We sat for hours chatting about the event which soon led to a different conversation than on to another and soon she had her feet on the coach, shoes off laughing as we teased our crazy landlord and his obsession with the word freak.

  As time went by I had realised I found my soul mate and was certain she felt the same. Layla decided to keep her place but she basically lived with me, I tried time after time to get her to sell or even rent the unit but she was fixed on her decision. Even so it did not bother me; after all we did everything together. Glued at the hip the relationship was perfect, we liked all the same things and two months into our relationship I even took the risk to take her down to meet my family. We spent a whole week with my folks back home. She adapted easily and was comfortable in any surroundings. After a few days you could hardly tell she had just recently met them. My parents felt a strong bond towards Layla; they went out their way to make sure she was comfortable. My mother embarrassingly kept telling me in front of her that she was the one. My dad was most surprising though; he would make cups of tea for her and my mother and sit in the sun room chatting with her, so intrigued about her lifestyle back in the U.S. I had brought girls over before but none got the attention Layla had received from my entire family.

  When we returned home winter had settled and the city was white. You could feel the cold seep through your clothing and gripping your bones something an African boy was not so used to. A sheet of snow covered the roads and little icicles sat plastered to the window frames, obstructing my favourite view. Vests turned to jumpers, salads turned to soups and the thin sheets over our bed had been replaced by layer upon layer of blankets. Other than work and gym most of my time was spent with Layla lying under the covers wrapped in each other’s embrace. I would stand around the pots after work while cooking our supper watching the clock, counting the seconds for her to get back. She would enter the door seven o clock sharp every evening without fail, dropping her bags on the floor and no matter what I was occupied with she would come straight to me grab me and kiss me. I knew she was the one, the women I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I wanted to create a family with this woman some day she would bare my children. The only time we weren’t together was during work.

  These were the six best months of my life. I thrived physically, mentally and financially, I had finally parted from my boyish cocoon and morphed into a man. Each day that went by was somehow better then the next and this was all because she was a part of my life, I had heard someone once say,” we all have greatness within ourselves, it’s just up to us how we unlock it. Well I like to think she unlocked my potential which was hidden deep under the irrelevance of the boyhood state. I was more driven than before. I strived harder to succeed not only for myself but to assure I could build a future for her. I was in love, so in love that I would do anything for her, and I knew she’d do the same for me.

  I had been taking extra shifts for the past month now. The restaurant was doing well and thanks to my new role as head chef I was taking in more cash than I knew what to do with. I realise now I should have deposited my money in the bank, but I was my father’s son and for as long as I can remember he saved all his money in a safe in his cupboard. I had acquired his bad habit and knew I was doing well when I had to order another little safe online to keep my over flowing savings. Layla sometimes got annoyed with my extended working hours but never made a scene and if we did argue, it was soon resolved in the bedroom. That’s how strong our bond was, we could resolve any situation in a matter of minutes without it getting volatile or aggressive. I hated keeping anything from her, but I had my reasons for working all the extra hours though. I had been saving up money and combined with my life saving my mother prese
nted me with before I left. I saved enough money and was about to surprise Layla with our very own two bedroom house right on the outskirts of the city in suburbia. Houses in the suburbs were way out of my price range, and even though the house was just outside suburbia it was still in a very influential area.

  One day I had come across the house while delivering pastries to a very important client who lived in the same neighbourhood. The cannolis I had packed for him were somewhat of a thank you for the services he had rendered to our establishment. He was an auditor and had taken care of all the restaurants tax problems. The man had always been fond of me and every visit he would join me at the back of the restaurant where we would sit discussing the in’s and out’s of everyday life. We always shared a cup of coffee and a smoke at the back door of the kitchen and he preferred sitting with me in the dark grimy ally way as opposed to the clean posh tables of the restaurant. He was so enthralled with Africa and loved everything African. He would ask me detailed questions about towns I had never even heard of. Eagerly waiting for a