New Beginnings

The interior of the pub was clean and tidy, and there were only a few people there. The carpets were vivid, and all of the tables had the sheen of freshly wiped surfaces. It was 10:30am. He was sitting in the smoker’s section, and was currently smoking a cigarette, while his mobile phone was plugged into a power point on the wall. This was the central business district of Sydney city, and as the pub was mostly empty, he assumed most people were in their offices doing work. His black leather suitcase was on the floor underneath the table, which effectively contained all of his possessions.

He had arrived in Sydney by plane a few hours ago, and was awaiting a transaction from his contact overseas. Once the money arrived, he’d book a hotel room. He had heard the Hilton was good, but he was worried they would not let him in, due to the state of his clothes. He was wearing a worn button up shirt, in a greyish lime green colour, and a pair of microfibre black suit pants. There were dust stains on the shirt and the pants.

The phone was sitting on the table, and every so often he checked the messages; his contact had told him that he would send a text when the transaction was done.

Just then a lady walked into the smoker’s section, and sat down at the table across from him with her back turned to him. She was wearing a black velvet dress, and her hair was tied neatly back in a bun, the auburn hues shimmering in the morning sun. He watched her light up a slim, and lean back languidly in her chair, before pulling a smartphone out of her pocket. Soon she was hunched over the phone, which rested on the table, scrolling through an endless stream of cat videos.

He hadn’t talked to anyone in the last 24 hours. He had had to wait for a late connection of flights at the Los Angeles airport, and once on the plane he had leaned against the window and done his best to sleep. There was no harm in starting a conversation with a stranger, and if they didn’t want his company, he could just leave them be. So, he stood up, leaving his phone on the table and walked to the side of the woman?

“I know it’s early, but could I offer you a drink?”

The woman looked up from her phone warily, before smiling.

“It is a little early, but sure why not.”

“What would you like?”

“Can I get a tequila and orange juice?”

He went through the glass sliding door and made his way to the bar, ordering two tequilas and orange juice. As the bartender fixed the drinks, he glanced over at the woman, she was still scrolling on her phone. Soon he was walking back into the smoker’s section, carrying the drinks, the large, open windows carried in a light breeze.

“Thanks for the drink.” The lady said as he sat down and slid it across the table.

She turned her head and glanced behind her. “Is that your phone on charge over there? Is that why you came in?”

He took a sip of his drink, and pulled the Stuyvesant’s out of his pocket, tapping the back of the pack to get one of them to stick out.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much why I’m here, but I’m also waiting for something.”

 She looked down at her phone, and pressed a button, which blacked out the screen. “Judging by your clothes, I would have thought you were homeless, but you haven’t asked me for money.”

“Well, I don’t have a place I’m staying at yet. I arrived at the airport an hour ago, and caught the bus into the city.”

She cocked her head slightly, an auburn lock of her falling across one of her eyes, which was quickly brushed back behind her ear.

“The airport? Where did you come from?”

“I came from Russia, though I had to wait for a connecting flight at Los Angeles.”

“Are you here on business?”

“It’s a long story – are you sure you want to hear it?”

She took a sip of the orange juice. “Well, I’m not in any rush… sure.”

He took a deep breath and his eyes fell to the table in front him.

“I’m Jewish, and I come from a small village in northern Russia. Our Rabbi warned us that trouble was about to come for us, but foolishly I didn’t believe him. This was last Saturday.”

He lit up his cigarette, and took a drag.

“I went home and did my ironing, but out of nowhere, a mob of angry villagers started to surround my house and threw Molotov cocktails at it. They were hammering on the door, I was so scared and I didn’t have much time, so I threw everything I could into my suitcase and ran out the back door for my life.”

She looked at him with a sympathetic expression.

“I guess that explains those ash stains on your clothes.”

He brushed his clothes, but the Ash stains remained stubbornly.

“Shall I go on?”

She nodded. “Please.” Before inhaling another drag of her cigarette. Her phone was still on the table.

“I ran to the synagogue, and found the Rabbi still there. He told me he had seen fire and ruin in a dream the night before, and that Hashem had warned him so he could warn us. I asked him, ‘what can I do? My house is up in flames, and that mob are still rampaging around the village.’ The rabbi told me it was time for us Jews to leave this town. He told me he would be leaving too, but he promised to help me. He told me to leave Russia to start a new life somewhere else. I’m just waiting on a transfer of money to cover my expenses; I want to book a hotel room. But I’ve been told the staff there won’t let anyone in unless they look decent and clean.”

“Wow.” Said the woman, stubbing her cigarette in the ash tray. “You know, I can think of something you should try.”

“What’s that?” He asked.

“You should book a room in a backpacker hostel and use their laundry equipment to get your clothes washed. Just keep a close eye on your stuff. Usually you won’t get trouble, but you never know. And if you are literally living out of your suitcase, I’m sure you’ll want to hang on to everything you’ve got. What’s in there anyway?”

He took another drag of his cigarette. “My passport, my birth certificate – they were in there already before the mob came – and a writing pad and some pen’s, amongst other things…”

“What’s the writing pad for?” She asked.

He laughed a little. “Call me old fashioned, but I like to have it around to write notes occasionally. I know I could just use a mobile phone, but this is my preference.”

“What are you writing notes for?”

“I want to write a novel one day. If I ever think of something worth putting in it, that is where it goes.”

He frowned. “I don’t know what’s taking the Rabbi so long, but in any case, I should go to that hostel, if only to wash these clothes so I can stay at the hotel when the money arrives.”

“You think you will be alright?” She said quietly.

His fingers drummed nervously on the table; his eyes fixed on the wood grain as he considered her question. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll manage.”

“You don’t sound too confident… Tell you what, wait outside for me, I can help you, and also… don’t be too surprised okay?”

“Really, you’d do that for me? But what do you mean about a surprise?”

“Just wait out the front you’ll see.”

After packing his phone charger into his suitcase and pocketing his phone, he walked downstairs and out the front door. The streets were sparsely populated, with only a few people walking up or down the street.

Just then, he saw an auburn-haired cat come out of the door of the hotel. It padded slowly forward, then sat in front him, staring up at him meaningfully.

He looked into it’s eyes for a moment, before looking back up at the street. He began to reach for his cigarettes when he heard a voice from on the ground in front of him.

“It’s me.”

He looked down with wonder. The cat was still staring up at him.

“Are you the lady I was just talking to inside the Albion?”

The cat replied. “Yeah, it’s me. Good thing you’re not freaking out. Cmon follow me to the hostel.”

He scratched his head in disbelief, about to say something else before he saw the cat move. The cat skulked forward down the street, and he went along behind it. He followed it across the street, then north. Eventually it was standing in front of a hostel. He pushed open the door and the cat paced in behind him.

“Is that yours?” Said the man behind the counter.

“Uhm, yes this is my cat.” He replied.

“I’ve never seen a cat so well behaved in my life. But I can’t let that in here, we can’t have animals soiling our carpets.”

The cat turned its head and looked at the man pointedly.

“Give me a minute, will you?” He said, before going back out the door with the cat following him.

Outside the cat spoke again. “Just go in and book a room, I can see an open window up there. I’ll find a way in.”

Before he even had time to agree, the cat ran off, leaving him with nothing else to do but what it had told him.

After booking a room, and receiving a key, he climbed up the stairs and walked down a hallway, where other youngish looking men and women were jostling past him. Eventually he was in front of room 37, the room he had been given. He pulled out the swipe card the man in the foyer had given him and swiped himself in. Inside there were four iron beds, two of which were occupied by sleeping men. Before he could close the door, the auburn-haired cat ran in.

“Okay I found a way up outside. Now you need to get that shirt and pants washed. I hope your wearing nice underwear.”

Reluctantly he began to undress his shirt and pants and socks. Soon he was holding them, leaving his shoes at the foot of his bed.

The cat turned to the door. “Follow me, I saw the laundry down the hall.”

The cat stepped softly out the door. He followed, holding his clothes in one hand and the suitcase in another. Surprisingly – at least to him – no one seemed to mind that he was walking down the public hallway in his trunks with a cat ahead of him. Sure enough, the cat knew the way to the laundry. He put his clothes in, set it for an hour-long wash and dry, and returned back to the small room, the cat following him. Once inside, he looked longingly at the bed and yawned.

“You must be tired after your long flight.” Said the cat soothingly. “Why don’t you have a nap while your clothes are in the wash. I’ll keep an eye on your shoes and suitcase.”

He put his mobile phone in the suitcase, then locked it.

“Thank you.” He said gratefully, before collapsing onto the bed. Looking at the woman who was now a cat, he saw her licking her paws delicately.

“So why are you helping me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m indebted to you for all that you’ve done for me, but I am just a stranger.”

Her eyes pierced his for a moment. “Hashem works in mysterious ways my friend. Now get some sleep.”

He dreamt he was back in his house, pouring himself a glass of whisky and relaxing in his favourite, worn armchair. But his reverie was interrupted by the shouts of the angry mob outside. He heard glass shattering, smelling the acrid bitterness of smoke. An angry man smashed through the lounge room window and ran up to him, but strangely began to poke him softly in his face.

He woke to the cat tapping his face with its paws and meowing.

“Who’s that? Oh, it’s you. Why aren’t you talking?”

He heard laughter and realized he was not alone with the cat. One man was sitting on the side of his bed while another was standing at the window. The cat began to circle an area near the foot of his bed and continued to make noise. He was puzzled a moment before he realized. Where was his suitcase?

The cat stepped to the door way, then turned and looked at him, meowing loudly. It wanted him to follow her, so he got up and followed it out the door. The hallway was empty, so the cat began to speak again.

“Go to the laundry and put your clothes back on, then follow me.”

While he dressed himself, the cat stood in the doorway watching him.

“Where is my suitcase? If I’ve lost it then I’m in serious trouble!”

“I saw who took it, and I followed them to their room. Are you ready? Follow me.”

The cat ran out of the room and down the hallway, and he tailed it in long fast strides.

They went up a dingy flight of stairs, before going down another carpeted corridor and stopping at door.

“They took it in there.” Whispered the cat.

He knocked on the door 3 times. Eventually a man slid the door partly open.

“Excuse me but I believe you took something that’s mine?”

The man narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Something of yours? We didn’t take anything.” He said in a lanky British accent.

The man moved to shut the door before he grabbed it forcefully and stopped him. “At least let me look.”

The stranger grudgingly let him in. There were clothes strewn chaotically all over the floor, and there was an odd smell that he couldn’t place. The cat had also gone in. He checked under the beds, but saw nothing. It was then that he noticed the cat walking up to a pile of clothes in the corner of the room and circling it purposively. He strode over to the pile. The men in the room looked agitated, and the man who had opened the door spoke angrily.

“Hey mate, you can’t just go through all of our stuff like this…”

But he pulled away the clothes and saw his suitcase. The cat hissed at the man who was now directly behind him.

“That’s my suitcase!” He said loudly.

He grabbed it and turned to face the man. “Look. Just let me take my suitcase and leave and I won’t give you any more trouble.”

The man looked down sullenly before speaking. “All right then. Fuck off. And take your cat with you.”

Glad to leave with his suitcase, he left the room and began to walk down the hallway to the stairs with the cat following him. Seeing that there was nobody around, and cognisant that he was now fully dressed in clean clothes, with all of his possessions at hand, he turned once more to the cat.

“I think I’ve had enough of this place.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out and unlocked the screen. The payment had gone through.

“… and there it is. My money from the rabbi. I can go to the Hilton now. I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”

And there before his eyes, the cat morphed in a twist of colour and light into the lady he had spoken with at the bar. She smiled at him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve been through a lot. I could see you were at your wits end so I did what I could.”

She turned and began to walk down the hall.

“If you want to do something to thank me, help someone else in need when you have the chance. And good luck with your novel.”

“Wait!” He exclaimed. “We never did exchange names, did we? My name is Joseph. What’s yours?”

She laughed. “It’s Amber. Go on Joseph, go to the Hilton. And remember what I told you. The kindness I showed you; do the same to others.”

And with that, she took the stairs and was gone.

Joseph reflected on all that had happened. He had lost everything, but found hope when he needed it the most. He began to feel there was a place for him in this country after all.