Bloody Puncture!

Unbelievable! My thought raced through my mind; this had never happened in all my years of cycling. At the same time, I had a front and rear puncture, thanks to the arsehole who had laid a full metre length and track wide layer of long tacks on the Fernleigh Track. The tubes were history, the tyres would get me home but then would wind up in the rubbish bin. Doing the right thing snapped off a small tree branch and swept the track clear for the next to pass through.

Serves me right for getting up before sparrow's fart to get some single trail under the belt before work. Normally I avoided both the Fernleigh and Glenrock runs mainly due to the fact I prefer my road bike. It has more to do with self-preservation than which I enjoy the most. As most know the rush of a single track, especially a black run successfully completed as hard as you can holds a special place. The downside is crashing, having had a few of those made me prefer the wide-open road.

As I refitted the rear wheel in place and was started to pack away my kit, one of the guys pulled up.

"Need a hand mate?"

I looked up, "nah, just finished thanks, some jerk tacked the path, cleaned it as best I could but be careful."

The cycling fraternity were a close-knit community, not in your pocket style but were generally known to each other by sight if not name, I'd seen this guy about and I should have been able to recall this name, he and his brother Malcom did a lead out thing that won them most of the club sprints, that was it from me but from him he knew who I was not because I was famous or even infamous, no it was because who I was married too.

Tayla was a really good rider, amateur still sure but knocking on the door. She just needed to make up her mind if she wanted a career in Architecture or cycling. Whatever she chose, she would excel at. Added to that she was one hell of a good-looking woman. Some work on a one to ten scale well she was right up there. Me? To be honest while I had not fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, was at least two rungs below her scale. Tayla would have none of that though, finger in my sternum style grinding, "you Marco are on the same standing as me, you are hot, lava hot. No one can hold a candle to you."

Yeah, whatever was my silent response, I had the sense never to contradict her.

"Oh," he said, "it's you, Marco, did not recognize you, sorry about your divorce."

Now that was new to me, when I got out of bed this morning and kissed my wife goodbye, we were still married!

Fortunately for us both, I had turned to make sure I had not left any junk lying about, he must have mistaken me for someone else. Only he put that to rest.

"That fucking dick, Shawn sure is a fast worker, two weeks ago he was down and dirty with Elise, bastard hope he gets it one of these days, he cut in on my brother's wife Mary too, fucked up his and his kid's life really good."

"Sorry to hear that, is he okay now?"

"Oh, yeah he's got custody and our family closed ranks right away!"

We parted ways, my head minus my brain was firmly attached to my body, the ether had my brain which was quite alright just then. Finally, it returned just as I turned into our street, NO, he must be mistaken no way would Tayla step out on me, we were better than good. But Shawn was known to be a slimeball and Tayla had questioned what anyone saw in him, maybe a red herring?

Hanging up my bike, put Tayla's bike on the car bike rack, she was going to meet up with the girl's group on the Central Coast, she had let me know last night about it. A sort of mini cycling camp of all one day! I had no problem with it they would spend time with some coaches from the NSWIS, the day would give her some good pointers and just maybe help her make up her mind what she wanted to do.

I had just stepped out of the shower, when my wife had to go to the loo, we were comfortable with each other that a wee was fine number two's no, no don't think we will ever get there!

"Your bike on the rack, enough room for Andi and Carla's," not that she was not capable of doing that, "hope you have a good time down there."

"I'm sure I will."

"What time do you expect to finish, did you want to go out tonight or just eat in?"

"Let's go out, I'll phone when I'm heading back."

"I'll bus it in today then," that would make it easier than having to worry about leaving my bike chained to anything, I should get a commuter that way having ten grand tied to a lamppost would not be an issue. Lamppost is figurative we have lockers at work.

We ate breakfast together, had another coffee and said our goodbyes. The passion better than when we started dating eight years ago, six years of wedded bliss every day the best. You just could not fake it for that long, not even for a day. The guy on the track had it wrong, mistaken identity for sure.

We only had one car, that was on purpose. We could afford two but what's the point, everything was within riding distance and push comes to shove a bus service was close by even if it was a bit dodgy. Ubers and taxis were also in the mix but why waste money not that we had to worry about that, but we did. Both of us were from wealthy families, my inheritance was proof of that. Growing up though my parents had ensured that I was not spoilt I had to earn, by hard work or brains any money I wanted.

Tayla was the same, although she still had both her parents. I got on well with them, her dad loved the fact I could hit a mean golf ball, putt with confidence without any practice, a score card never over eighty ensured he wone more than he lost. While I could play, was not a fan, four hours got you nine or ten kilometres, on the bike that was a hundred and forty odd k's maybe more if we avoided too many hills. Her mom loved the fact I knew my way around a kitchen remembered to put the seat and lid down and knew the ins and outs of house cleaning.

So yeah, we did not toss money down the drain. Some would question the amount we spent on our passion of cycling, and they were probably correct. So, money wise we were in a happy place. Our salaries went into a joint account, and then into a series of accounts for utilities, holidays, insurance, etc. You get the idea, I'm sure. The one thing we finally agreed on was to keep our inheritance separate. Tayla's parents were filthy rich, mine were only rich. So, mine sat to one side making more money while waiting for it to be passed onto our children, we both wanted at least two.

At least the bus was on time, as all our services did, it meander across neighbouring suburbs before heading to where I actually wanted to go, almost fifteen minutes longer than I could manage on my bike. Looking at the traffic saw a small bunch of riders heading in the same direction, that indicated they had been out early and were heading to their coffee stop. The glaringly obvious was right there, Carla and Andi stood out from the pack. Which meant there was no way they were going to the Central Coast. My guess was this was the end of the Monday morning bunch ride, always about eighty kilometres.

If I had not punctured that morning, I would have stayed glued to my seat, only I had. My hand came up as if of its own violation, pressed the bell, on auto pilot stepped off in a daze, a what the hell moment settled firmly on my shoulders and so my perfect life changed forever. The love and innocence washed away in a chance happening. I was actually not that far from home, as the crow flies three kilometres, by mortal man's design a tad over four so about forty minutes on foot, I set off at a brisk pace, strangely my mind was calm, and no thoughts of mayhem stormed about the grey cells. I even had the wherewithal to call into work and let them know I was not going to make it. The mandatory, "make sure you have a doctor's certificate," my final word from them, at least that I'd hear on that.

Opening the front door, heard voices coming from the lounge room, they were not snogging or even seated together! However just the sight of the slimeball in our home cause me to go icy cold.

"This hardly looks like innocent visit Tayla, as for you," I turned to slimeball, "get the fuck out of my house!"

His presence was about all that was needed for a reaction I'd always taken with a huge grain of salt. The so-called red mist slid cross my vision, his failure to make any move had me have to repeat my demand. Just maybe the tone in my voice sent a warning to him.

The message must have been received by his stupid brain, stepping backward away from the door he moved through the doorway and then into the hallway. His smirk was the catalyst for my very unusual response, one I had no idea I was capable of. The right-hand fist I slammed into his solar plexus was a tad off, as he started to bend over the left-handed fist followed up making sure he knew he'd been hit. Okay a bit more than blindsided he was but who cares, not me, his head was moving down quickly now, my right knee was coming up to meet it driven by a desire to inflict as much pain as possible, his head snapped upward.

Standing over him now as he lay on his back sucking air into his lungs, I did a rather despicable thing. For some reason instead of kicking his testes into his yellow belly, took the opportunity to rearrange his nose, then promptly pummelled away wildly, so dumb of me really punching someone in the head, great way to wind up with a very broken hand. This time I got away with it, finally as reason reasserted itself stopped and then with a helping hand he staggered out of the front door, what happened to him after that I have no idea. The thought did enter my head that I'd be facing a GBH charge, and I'd imagine a few others to boot.

Well, what a fucking great way to start Monday! Making my way to our bedroom, slammed the door shut, then sank down on my side of the bed. The anger in me had me physically shaking. I did not hear the door open, but sure as hell heard the start of her sentence.

"Marco," her voice was so soft hesitant, maybe more than a lot fearful and that fear was because of me, my wife feared me! The sudden pain in my chest a very broken heart. I raised my hand to quieten her, not daring to turn to face her, just then I knew if words flowed from my mouth, they would be full of vitriol, nasty, violent, full of cursing. Anything spoken would forever be in the open, burnt into her memory and mine.

"Later," I managed to croak out, "tonight."

I heard the door close so softly, almost missing it close for the last time.

Time seems to drag or fly sometimes, right then it appeared to do both simultaneously. Finally, a plan gelled in my mind I needed space and time to decide my best action, because right then I knew whatever I did would just be a total fuck up, with consequences far reaching. As it turned out I only sat there for an hour. Packing a medium size travel bag with casual clothes my bathroom bag with shaving gear, toothbrush and paste, the usual extra soap etc. Thinking about it wondered where to go, I had a friend who was working in NZ, but he and his wife would ask too many questions, questions I had no answers for. I was a dual British national, never a fan of it in principle personally, my mom had convinced me to put nationalism aside and think of the freedom of movement between Australia and Europe.

Passports, laptop and kindle, along with cables went into my carry-on bag. I'd head to Sydney or Melbourne; the distance would let me think and breath, make a plan of action I could weigh up the pros and cons for. Looking at my left hand thought of removing my wedding band but discarded that idea, it was just too drastic and action without sitting down and having a heart to heart when I was ready. Besides, I actually would feel naked without it.

Tayla was not in the house; I could sense she was not there although I did a walk through just in case. Glad I did as there were two items that would help me down the line to centre my thinking. I dropped them into my carry-on. Rang for a taxi and went into the kitchen. I had time for a coffee and the Jura made easy work of the espresso, surprisingly the taxi beeped its horn just as I finished, normally I'd wash up there was no time my last action in the house was to leave a dirty tazza on the counter.

"Broadmeadow station, thanks."

The taxi made easy work of the trip, thankfully the driver minded his own business and did not tell me the ills of the world and how to fix them, giving him the forty dollars fare, a tidy tip included on top of that.

The timing could not have been better for me, an express train such as our wonderful train service was not, was due in ten minutes, it would have been quicker to drive but leaving Tayla without a car was something I would not do and a hire car, well why waste money?

The train trip gave me time to search for hotels, none jumped out at me, although the ads for cheap flights did. The trip out to the airport was anything but soothing, my feet seemed to be in control. Walking up to the concourse, I made up my mind, distance was the way forward. My Qantas membership made it simple to see what was available for that day. The two and a half grand slug was okay for such short notice, downloading my ticket even easier, at five minutes past five that afternoon I was bound for London via Singapore, the six months return date was flexible either way, a winner for me.

At twenty hours into the journey the thought of what have you done started to penetrate my fog, the four hours and ten minutes to go seemed to take forever. Fuck returning, was my blurry thought as I made my way to passport control, my British passport was very nice indeed, ten minutes and my feeling sorrow for me, had my arse in a cab. I needed a bath and some decent sleep; I forgot just how expensive the UK was especially London.

Showered and between freshly ironed sheets my closing thoughts were, 'you forgot about speaking to Tayla and you have to let work know you will not be back, remember to sort your phone out!'

Sleeping the sleep of an innocent was great; waking to the realisation I had ghosted everyone and anyone at home a cold and sobering realisation of just how cruel that would seem to them. I set about sorting out my phone, for a price switched on international roaming, then had to wait for the time difference to call into work. By-passing my one up went to HR, the manager, 'call me Linda,' and explained why I had bailed on them with no notice. She was less than pleased, "however as a model employee for these past years, we will make allowances for your indiscretion," not those words exactly but along those lines.

We spoke for a bit longer; they were interested in if I was going to return. I could honestly inform them that I had no idea.

"Listen Marco, we have a sister company that we have exchanged engineers with, but they operate in Italy can you speak Italian?"

"Conversational only, Linda."

"I'll call you back in twenty minutes or so I know they are looking for someone with your background, besides you know what we are doing here, it's on similar lines."

Twenty-eight minutes later I had a job in Genoa, "start date to be informed in two- or three-weeks' time, make your way there and we will sort out your work and resident permits."

Just like that my working life was sorted, I wonder if they could get my bikes over to me? Not asking much am I. Then turning my phone off again to avoid the obvious. Doing the tourist thing wasted most the day, making up my mind that I'd spend another night here then head over to France via Dover. Dinner was pleasant if somewhat lonely, the price you pay for running away. I knew I could not talk to her yet every time the review of Monday came up my blood vaporised in my veins. This was going to be a long process of dealing with.

The concierge woke me as requested and I got ready for my next adventure. The cab dropped me off at St Pancras International, Eurostar took me to Paris woo hoo always wanted to slum it in 'grand Pari' [Paris]. The hotel concierge in London was fantastic and had organised my accommodation for me, no I had done my due diligence and it was a great deal four days to try fit as much art and a trip to Giverny before the welcoming embrace of the Eurostar carriage to Barcelona.

The next Monday I turned my phone on again and waited for Linda to call, I needed my start date and any other information she was going to pass on to me.

A week, a whole week had past, and the confusion of my marriage was just as jumbled as the day the plane took off. Now I was kicking myself how do you get answers thousands of kilometres away, if you cannot see their eyes how do you know they are not lying? We will not mention body language in that, damm what a fool to cut and run. My phone ringing broke me from my self-pity. Much earlier than promised, Linda gave me all the full SP on my new employment, at least one part of my life was back on track. She also let me know some people had been looking for me through a PI. I knew who that was, and I had better man up and speak to her. Until I grew a pair again, I turned my phone off.

I had not left Tayla destitute, my pay-out from work went directly into our joint account, annual leave, long service accumulated as well and my last pay cheque. My plan was to pay into the account for at least a year from my inheritance, by then I was sure to have figured out what to do.

Barcelona was fun, if I'd spoken Spanish or Catalan even better, I did get away with my Italian and broken French. The plan was to return there, was so much to see and do. I'd had enough of trains and so flew to Genoa, upon arrival made myself known to work.

The HR departments, the one at home and my new local, had taken care of everything. My direct report was Filippo Monteverdi a great guy as it turned out. He had slotted me in with a small team working on improving and fixing some problems in production. It did not take long for me to get back in the swing of things. Work is a great way to fill in eight hours a day, I put in a lot more, on average twelve hours, that was until I was hauled over the coals for doing too much. I forgot while I was trying to forget my life, others did have a life, wives, kids, hobbies, friends and extended families. My hours were showing up my work mates, a big no, no.

Now I had too much time on my hands, sure I filled them in as best I could, only wandering about by myself was a reminder, I was on my own. No friends nor acquaintances to share the sights with, eating on your own was a downer as well. I had been used to having my best friend with me over the last eight years, now I was flying very much solo. There was no way anyone from home could call me my phone was turned off and in the bottom draw, replaced by a TIM service and new phone; really did not want an accidental pocket call to happen.

The cycling in and around the area was good if the web was to be believed, only one way to find out. It was not a problem buying a bike the options were many and prices reasonable. I made up my mind, I'd do that before the next weekend. No point losing my fitness as well as everything else. I had all my measurements on my phone so no issues with that, after all I was in Europe nothing was that far, so the thoughts of custom built floated into my mind.

I was lonely, even though my headspace was slowly settling down. The initial white-hot rage was burnt out, now I think I was just hurting, occasionally anger would raise its ugly head, but I'd push it down. To allow myself to lose self-control again like that was something I was so scared of. Had that red mist not flashed past, I was positive I'd have beaten the slimeball to death. That brought me to Tayla's behaviour, seriously? What the fuck was she thinking or doing? That line of thought was also shut down quickly, I was ill prepared to think let alone deal with that.