Facing the Sun, page 11
“Would that be such a bad thing, Dale?”
See! That’s what happens. All of sudden you’re being invited to let go everything you hold on to, to take on the unknown. Scary stuff. Confusing stuff. “I think I prefer to just do it my way, if you don’t mind.” The query meets with a long slow gaze during which Dale attempts to suss out what ku’s thinking, but can’t grasp it.
“My preference is that you go to Torrenclar now, Dale. You need to keep working on being present spiritually to Jack, and he can help you with that.”
“I don’t think he can.” The bald words are met with a quizzical lift of the eyebrows. “No. You don’t understand. He just appears and tries to chat with Jack, leaving me feeling like an idiot. It’s not helpful.”
“Perhaps your self- esteem is not the most important thing at stake here, Dale.”
Disconcerted, Dale shakes his head slowly, and after a moment or two reaches the conclusion that they will always gang up against him. “Can I go now?” The Source stands and holds out his arms. Seeing this as an effort to bridge the gap ku had created, Dale decides he will allow a brief hug. “Bye then,” he says awkwardly. “See you soon.”
Ku nods. “That would be good. Oh, and Dale? Blessings on your efforts.”
Turning to leave, Dale decides this has gone a lot better than he’d expected. Perhaps the Source is beginning to see his point of view at last.
* * *
Homarta confers with the two female Caretakers who have been journeying with Marra and with Gabriella. Reports indicate neither woman is feeling the presence of the Source. It is important to remind them to tune in to the spiritual aid available to them, but all efforts to bring their thoughts towards this fountain of grace and blessing are blocked by anxiety in both cases. Homarta begins to see the connection which the Source makes between the two women and why ku has asked her to take a hand in their care.
Anxiety is making each of these women brood on the negative elements of their current situations: Marra, of course, struggles between her love and longing for her husband and his out of control temper and pride. She is intent on making hard strong decisions about her future. She can have no respect for herself if she allows bullying. He has made contact with her at last, and rather than reassuring Marra that all will be well, his brief text has added to her misery. Why can’t he just be loving and drop his pride? All attempts on the Caretaker’s part to turn her towards the differences in their natures and how important it is that she focus on his welfare rather than on his faults, are met with mutiny. The house is filled with memories of him which Lataree has been using to draw her thoughts towards the strengths of their connection, Sohrab’s humour illustrated in the things she collects and treasures. An old hat which he bought for her birthday. It was red felt covered in garish yellow daisies, and he was well aware that she would hate it. He put it into a large and beautiful box which he then wrapped in expensive silver paper. Her outrage when she unwrapped it had been captured in a photograph which now stood on their dresser. Several times a day, Lataree drew her attention to this, reminding her that Molly, ten at the time, had requisitioned the hat for her dress ups, and Sohrab had, later in the day, presented her with an eternity ring which she had never taken off; not even now, when she was considering giving him up completely.
“The trick will be to bring her thoughts towards the positive elements in their relationship,” Homarta suggests. “I know that is where you’ve been focussing, but remind her of her body’s desire for him; of how she longs for his legs wrapped around her own bare ones at night when she’s away working; of how he comes up behind her and pulls her into him when she is anxious, always noticing it before she has to say anything.” Homarta gazes at the two Caretakers. Lataree is tall and very thin, her long mousy hair falling straight down over her bottom where it swings provocatively; unbeknownst to her. “Use your body to draw into you the magnetism which you must then pass onto Marra who is, at the current moment, completely out of touch with hers. Just because she can’t see you doesn’t mean she won’t feel it. At times, your focus is too much on lofty thoughts of the spiritual.” The Caretaker smiles wistfully at Homarta who immediately responds with, “We must spend some time together exploring this, very soon.” The two had once been much closer, but Homarta had withdrawn for a while when she correctly assessed that Lataree was becoming too dependent on her wisdom, rather than trusting her own.
Domina begins talking with them of Gabriella’s current focus. “She has returned to grief, when she has so much to be grateful for in her current life. I’m impatient with her too often, which just adds to her misery. Give me some wisdom, Homarta.”
“It is something she never resolved, Domina. Work on Jarrod when you can’t tolerate Gabriella’s obsessions. Challenge him to step up and claim her love. He has certainly earnt it!” Domina spends some time expressing her irritation with women who fall for charmers and ignore lovely devoted men to do so, while the other two allow her to vent.
“There’s something I’d like from you Domina, before you return to Victoria.” The Caretaker looked interested and curious. “Go and shake up Molly, for me! If you don’t, I might just step on her which would be disastrous.” A hoot of laughter shot out at this. “Well, you don’t have to work with my bulk.” Efforts to be taken seriously were pushed aside by her audience.
“Off you go,” Lataree instructs. “There’s work to be done, and I must allow Homarta to teach me about using my body.” Her hungry look, speaking volumes, meets invitation, immediately triggering impatience. Body work with Homarta is almost always met with delight, except in those who find her overwhelming. Tastes, even in the spiritual world, differ broadly. The Source loves variety.
* * *
Molly’s behaviour is out of hand, and midwifery is intensely busy, just when it would have been useful to have had a quiet patch. The time in Birdsville had been extended beyond what worked with Marra’s schedule, and, while she’d decided at the time she could make up some of the work later, she hadn’t reckoned on Sohrab’s absence. She is feeling overwhelmed and frantic with worry about their future. Sohrab is in Adelaide, but staying at a Motel and working. Missing him, worrying about him, coupled with Molly’s teenage petulance, is making her extremely tense. She desperately needs him to help out with the kids but can’t trust him. Adam is also causing her concern. He appears to be dropping his bundle, unwilling to go to school and forgetting what he’s supposed to be doing. Now, he’s shut himself in his room and is quite clearly not studying because he’d left his schoolbag on the bus. The depot was shut for the night by the time he realised it. How he could have left the bus without his schoolbag was a complete mystery, Marra thinks. Surely his arms and shoulders would have given him the message they were too free, but clearly not. Well, he’ll just have to make it up next week. She turns back to the trouble at hand.
“Either you apologise for being rude, or your birthday’s off,” Marra says. Perhaps, she should discourage her on the apologising because the very last thing she wants to do is have a birthday party; let alone one peopled by fourteen and fifteen year old girls.
Stalking back inside, after having been told that unless she did the dishes there would be no dinner, Molly broods on revenge. “Who cares?” she flings back. “Your cooking’s lousy anyway, Mum. I’m not eating your shit.”
Marra strides around the table towards the door, yanking it open and startling her potential target, only to pull a group of leaflets from behind the telephone towards the outside table. Adam, appearing at just the right moment, votes for Thai, while Molly, finding her voice again, speaks through the security door, insisting on Fish and Chips. “Your choice is invalid.” Marra dismisses her objection with a wave of a hand, “you’ve decided not to eat with us tonight.” Domina makes her presence felt at this moment, the struggling mother experiencing a wave of unaccountable strength and conviction. “That’s it. For your rudeness, I’m cancelling your party. If your behaviour improves, you may get a sixteenth, but I’m not hopeful.”
Livid, Molly flounces outside and stands with her hands on her hips glaring at her mother, only to be directed towards the sink. “We’ll hold off ordering for fifteen minutes,” she says, ignoring Adam’s groan of hunger. “After that, you’re having toast or something!” Her calm authority earns her a momentary win. Giving up, Molly, muttering and complaining (until receiving a warning that they will order immediately if she doesn’t stop), even wipes down the benches behind her. “I don’t see why we can’t put half this shit in the dishwasher,” she sulks out the kitchen window. “What’s the use of having a dishwasher, if you have to wash all this stuff anyway?” Unconcerned about the lack of reply, she begins renewing her efforts towards getting fish and chips. On being informed by her mother that her behaviour has lost her the right to a choice, she begins to protest loudly, until a look shuts her down, and they order Thai. Adam surprises his mother by refusing to choose anything and, insisting he will eat whatever she orders, leaves abruptly to return to his room.
* * *
The two sets of travellers met each other for dinner that first night, Josh attempting to avoid this by studying in his tent and being hauled out by Sandro saying, “You have to meet him some time. Don’t be a coward!” Incensed, the boy appeared, marching straight up to Sohrab and apologising for causing all the trouble. Surprised and hugely impressed, Sohrab smiled and shook his hand telling him it wasn’t his fault and admitting all the blame was on himself and Molly. Catching the warning look from Sandro, Josh stopped himself from defending Molly just in time. Instead, he said, “Yeah she can be a bit full on, can’t she?” This established him in Sohrab’s eyes as a young man with sense. But, when Josh went on to suggest that Sohrab should go on home and everybody forgive everybody, he shrugged it off, scowling.
Jack announced that this would be his last night with them. He had been getting an uneasy feeling about his mother during the afternoon and decided to return and check on her. Sohrab, concerned about his mother-in-law and also its impact on Marra, was keen for them to return to Adelaide quickly. But, Sandro sticking with his original plan to support Josh and Bridey’s first trip through this country, encouraged him to go on alone and sort out things with his wife. They would come to Adelaide a day later. Sohrab and his friend (now going to Adelaide instead of returning) packed up at first light the following morning and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Not so when they had to say goodbye to Jack.
“We’ll spend lots of time together, soon enough,” he informed them. “I’m due in Melbourne in a few days for a long meeting.”
“Where do you stay?” Sandro asked.
“Usually in a Motel to give me the space to recover after the event. But, it finishes Friday so I’ll stay over. Probably won’t go back to Adelaide until Tuesday morning.”
“Good. My mother would love to meet you. How would you feel about that?”
Jack grinned. “What’s she like?”
“Monstrous,” Sandro replied, drawing a snort from Josh and a protest from Bridey.
“Done.”
None of them had any inkling of just how complicated events would become after they had parted.
Seven
Jack is speeding. The road is long and straight, the night sky lighting every curve well before he reaches it, slowing to 130kms then pressing his foot hard to come out of the corner, lightly fingering the wheel to straighten his course. As the night progresses, despite heading towards an unexplainable calling to visit his mother immediately, Jack’s mood lifts. He experiences the exhilaration of being alone in the vast, wildly untamed wilderness of this desert land as it expands inside him until he thinks he might explode and shatter the peacefulness. Some believe his work drags him endlessly back and forth along boringly familiar roads, but for Jack, the touch of paradise lies in every lightly moving shrub, every shift of sand, the sight of each rising dune to the fore, behind him reflected in his mirrors and to his constantly searching peripheral vision. No matter how often he makes the journey, it could never be enough for his soul. Hell, on the other hand, lies reaching for him grasping at his wandering spirit and seeking to pinion it the moment he allows his vehicle to pass into suburban outskirts, capturing it temporarily when he hits the city of Adelaide. He knows in the depths of his imprisonment that the hell there is at best temporary especially as he has some sort of home in Adelaide. It is often occupied by various members of his extensive family, but when he’s around, he clears it for a while, pushing all visitors towards the house next door which he and Tim had bought, and now belongs to him.
Melbourne, though, is a complex and different experience. Summoned there by conferences and high level meetings, his spirit evacuates leaving behind a shell with which to transact business. He loses his voice, loses his way, can’t breathe from anxiety pounding down upon his terrified sense of captivity. Several times, he had been required to stay for up to a week and it had always begun like this and ended with surprise at how differently he felt as the week progressed; how he had begun to settle into safety, enjoying the company, sightseeing, and generally allowing himself to become human again. But, he has never felt this intense joy in a city.
His eyes begin to tire, and with the onset of prickles attacking his eyeballs, he decides to pull over into the desert, away from sight of passing traffic. Early that morning, he had bid farewell to his recently adopted family pressing on to Adelaide, gripping Sohrab by the upper arms and gently swaying him as he passed on a wordless message of caution to the father of his niece and nephew. There was no need to pursue this, Sohrab understood, giving him a nod and raising both eyebrows in hope. These two have shared many journeys before and know what lies at stake in Adelaide. With Sandro, Bridey and Josh, he made it clear that their connection has only just begun.
Now he wanders a little in the scrub gathering fuel and clearing the area for a fire on which he boils water and rehydrates some vegetables adding beans and grains as the mixture begins to bubble. When it’s ready, he sits cross-legged in the sand to eat, then drags his swag from the Ute for warmth. Leaning it up against a wheel, he sits staring into the fire as he watches the coals die, each one on a journey back into the earth. The cycle of life and death often draws him, in these quiet moments, towards tranquil thoughts of his own death and with it imagined release from having to make life work. Not so his thoughts of his mother’s possible demise. The idea is anathema. Without her, he would lose his centre; the place where he returns, each season of his soul, to draw strength. She can speak English of course, but she and the tribe use their own language when alone, and this is her preference. Marra, Jack and the kids insist she speak English with them in order to maintain her capacity to defend herself and her tribe from intrusions by Government authorities seeking to ‘improve’ her life. But, both Adam and Molly can converse with her in her own tongue. Many aboriginal languages have been lost, but those in the Centre living out ‘on country’ with little contact outside their lands, have managed to preserve it from one generation to the next.
The stars brighten as the fire dies. Jack’s pleasure increases as he stares up at the vast night sky allowing his mind to wander where it wills. Worries and concerns melt away like ice out in the midday sun, leaving behind them a profound sense of the magnificence of life. This arrives with intense certainty about the rightness of things. Loneliness flees, its place overtaken by deep peace and gratitude which cannot be reached by the mind. He knows, from endless trials, that giving attention to thoughts will result in loss of the moment, so he refuses to allow his mind to drift into ideas, pulling it back to the dying coals, the night sky, the cooling breeze, while his contentment deepens. Nipping at the edge of consciousness comes the image of the strange man who seems to be stalking him. He refuses it entry.
Startled into wakefulness after drifting off to sleep, he hears voices. The fire coals are blanketed by ash. A few slight puffs would bring them to life again, but Jack remains still, attempting to discern the level of threat. This is his place. He feels no fear, only curiousity, for they speak English. The voices appear to be coming from a couple of hundred metres behind him on the road he’d recently travelled. Staring through the wheels of the Ute he catches the sweep of a flashlight and lies motionless on his stomach hoping with half of his mind that they will pass, leaving him in peace, while the other half insists he attract their attention. No one walks this road in the middle of the night hundreds of kilometres from anywhere, unless their car has broken down. In daylight, maybe a passing truck might stop to render assistance, but hours walking in the sun can do funny things to a man; convince him to make stupid decisions. Fear could unravel anyone in these wide open spaces when they began to panic. The right move would have been to stay with the vehicle until help arrived. Where they think they are walking to, is a mystery. Springing lightly to his feet, he gives a short whistle to halt their progress. The last thing he wants is to chase them through the night. He slips a flashlight into his pocket and begins making his way towards the road calling out a friendly “Hoi!” They appear to have halted, but because the conversation has stopped it’s difficult to tell. “You broken down?”
No answer. No footsteps, or conversation.
Jack groans. Now he’s going to have to seek them out. Make sure they don’t do anything foolish. “Stay where you are!” he calls out. “I’m coming to you.” On reaching the car, he swings the swag into the Ute then pulls on his boots to extinguish the fire thoroughly before leaving, never giving a thought to the sounds and their impact on his uninvited guests who have just ruined a perfect evening. Swearing softly to himself, he drags open his door and jumps in. The engine starts and pushing down his foot on the accelerator he spins around to face in the opposite direction. His way lies towards the place where he’d last heard sounds. High beam lights up a completely clear road ahead. Maybe, he’d gone too far. He spins again skidding in the sand at the edge of the highway. Nothing.
