The Windows Above Sydney Harbour

Thumb-sized boats chug along against a blue backdrop, leaving white streamers in their wake. Closer, the sloped peaks of the opera house are framed by a different blue background, the sky.

This view is one that Trevor Bailey had tired of long ago. He’d had this office for almost five years, and was beginning to wish for a different view of Sydney Harbour. He needed to look at it from a fresh perspective. The promotion and subsequent raise that would also come with this new office would also be nice.

“Daddy, look!”

Trevor looked up from his computer, over to one of the windows, to the panel of glass that provided the best view of the water, least obstructed by the other high rise buildings. It was where Trevor’s three-year-old son, Ben, liked to sit and watch the boats every time he came to the office. Unbeknownst to those boaters in the harbour, they were babysitting Ben Bailey free of charge.

The only downside to this was that Ben wanted his father to look at every single boat. This was the fourth time in ten minutes that Ben had found a boat he wanted Trevor to see.

Trevor turned away from his computer screen to look at his son. Ben was perched lopsided on his knees, floppy brown curls flying away from his forehead in a nestlike array. In one hand he was clutching a red toy car (he currently had an obsession with anything that could go fast) and his other hand was splayed against the glass, no doubt leaving a handprint. There would be several of those by the end of the day.

Once Ben had Trevor’s eye contact, he repeated. “Daddy, look!” Trevor nodded and smiled. “I see it, Ben. I see it.” “Look!”

With a sigh, Trevor looked back at his computer. He supposed the emails could wait, just for a few moments. It was Isabel’s weekend with Ben, so this afternoon would be the last chance Trevor would have to spend time with his son for the next few days. Trevor got up and walked towards the window, crouching beside his son. “Where is it?” he asked, trying his best to match Ben’s enthusiasm. “Which boat is it?”

“That one!” Ben pointed to a mundane looking, eggshell white deck boat cruising out from underneath the harbour bridge. It looked exactly like half of the other boats Ben pointed to, but his excitement never dulled. Trevor didn’t understand his son’s excitement, but he supposed he would be a bad father if he didn’t indulge in it. So he did.

At the end of the day, with the sun setting through the windows, Trevor packed up his things while Ben slept in his desk chair. He paused for a moment to gaze out the window, out of the same panel of glass Ben adored.

Trevor stood there for a while, trying to see things the way his son did. After a while, he realized he couldn’t. It would be many years before Trevor would be able to, years too late.

But, for this moment, neither Trevor nor Ben knew there would come a day when they wouldn’t coexist peacefully. Trevor left his office, Ben in one arm, his briefcase in the other, suit jacket draped over one elbow. He would quickly nod goodbye to all of his coworkers before getting on the elevator. Ben would wake up just in time to do one of his favorite things: press the button to take them down to the ground floor.

The sun set over the harbour, over the ferries and boats and the high rise building where Trevor worked too many hours. A moment in time so fleeting, not being noticed for how sweet it was until much later.

Years later, Trevor would look out at that harbour from a much bigger office, with more windows than Ben ever could’ve dreamed of at the age of three. He would watch the boats pass, think of calling his son and telling him about how great the view was, but he wouldn’t do it. Trevor had never been able to see things the way his son could. Now was too late to start.

| Elena Haley