Facing the Sun, page 17
“How you manage to tolerate my constant doubts is anathema to me.”
“I love you.”
* * *
The years since Tim’s death stretch out behind Jack as he wends his lonely way forward wondering how he will ever learn to tolerate the loss. There had come a time when the pain lost a little of its edge, and he was grateful. But the sense of aloneness never leaves him. Forcing himself to work into every tiny, empty space has resulted in flat, tired, anxious weeks and months, until more recently when he has begun to experience the delusions. He stands beside Olaf wondering whether he is mentally well enough to take on a new relationship, but something tells him this man is unlikely to accept rejection without a very good reason, and Jack can’t find a way of verbalising his fears. He longs for them to return to his Hotel and crawl into bed together, safe and warm and deliciously excited with each other. The juices begin to flow as he contemplates this scene and feels Olaf move closer until their hips touch, setting his heart pounding. When Olaf speaks, bitter disappointment floods him dampening the excited flame.
“I’m not sleeping with you tonight, Jack.” The certainty in his voice is undeniable. “I don’t do one night stands.” Refusing to accept this pronouncement, Jack attempts to win back the moment by begging with his whole body, eyes pleading. The instant he sees the shutdown, he withdraws. Olaf’s eyes harden and close off leaving him wondering whether he has just ended a relationship that’s hardly begun. Abruptly, he steps aside suggesting they should get out of the cold because he’s feeling tired and ready to call it a day. But he pauses as Olaf delivers a blazing look. “Is that all you want from me, Jack?”
He drops his head flushing with shame. “Of course not,” he mumbles, not knowing what to add to this.
Olaf puts a finger under his chin lifting it until they are looking at each other. “I am very attracted to you,” he says. “I could do with a good fuck. And right now! But, I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and wonder why I didn’t work harder to control myself. Will you wait with me and get to me know me first? There’ve been too many comings and goings in my life, and I just don’t want to risk it.”
Everything in Jack’s body groans in disappointment, but his heart begins to flutter wildly in a way he hasn’t felt for a very long time. “Okay,” he says. “But we’ll have to stay up all night and I don’t know how to fill the time because I’m not saying goodbye, or even goodnight, for a very long time.” He closes his eyes and puts his hands onto Olaf’s shoulders. Warm strong arms wrap themselves around him holding him close.
“I want to know everything about you, Jack. I want to know about your family, your work, your loves, your fears, your pleasures…” He breaks off because the flames between them at this point became intense. Their lips meet and shock at the intensity of their physical needs sweep away any possibility of further conversation. When they resurface, they grin at each other. “Well. It looks like that’s a point of compatibility anyhow!” Taking a deep breath, Olaf says, “Let’s go where we can talk where there’s no bed and no possibility we’ll be kicked out?”
“There are lots of night clubs around, but I’d prefer to be comfortable,” Jack tries, but quickly kicks himself. “A night club it is! One where we can dance and has couches.” Arms around each other, they walk all the way into the city, talking in that easy way of soul mates who feel as though they’ve met before in another life. Olaf has been living in Australia since he was sixteen when his parents had separated, and his father had swept him away to the land of his birth. He has three times returned to see his mother who tolerates his visits but has never forgiven him for abandoning her. She lives a solitary life full of bitterness and mental illness, regularly attempting to take her own life but never quite managing it. His father buries himself in business refusing to take any responsibility for it insisting he has wasted enough of his life already, being miserable. Once he’d completed his degree, he’d attempted to live by himself but had little chance of making a living writing. Anyway, his father needs the company, so they muddle along together well enough. Commitment has been a big issue for Olaf. Unable to settle with anyone, he’d been through various stages, swinging between swearing off relationships, and, burying himself in unsuccessful love affairs where, from his side, the feelings cooled quickly.
His companion begins to feel uneasy. Being forty-four, and never having made a relationship work, rings alarm bells for Jack. He is trapped, unable to find the will to walk away and desperately wanting to keep this lovely man in his life. The groan escapes him verbalising itself and causing Olaf to pull up just as they approach Collin’s Street. “It’s terrifying isn’t it?” he says. “I’m a dud when it comes to a stable income, and a dud when it comes to relationships. There! You can’t get more up front than that.” He turns again and begins walking, Jack following two steps behind wondering where the flame had disappeared to.
The night club is its usual crowded mass of people desperately trying to enjoy themselves. When the band swings into its next set, the two men began to dance together. By two in the morning, the beat is quieter and they cling together, swaying; hopeful.
Ten
Saturday morning I wake feeling better. Bridey’s flight’s arriving around twelve, so I pass the time baking. They are both too busy to spend the night but have agreed to lunch somewhere. Bridey wants to wake in her own bed and then work on her assignments. It’s hard to believe, but Josh is also planning to study. He assures me his determination to spend the night on the streets is legit. While he’ll be checking in with his friends, he’ll also be researching for his meeting with the Magistrate in his offices. What they need, I decide, are some stocks of study food. Biscuits for Josh; lots of biscuits because he’ll distribute them amongst the homeless. Muffins- some choc chip, some fruit; a couple of meals I prepared last night, which gave me a reason to cook for myself. Other basics I’d picked up from the supermarket; bread, milk, cheese, salami, tomatoes, olives, pasta.
My disappointment when Bridey texts to say their flight has been delayed an hour is bordering on the extreme. Don’t eat too much on the plane, I text back. I’m taking you out for lunch. I want to hear all the news. Josh responds from his phone saying, I haven’t changed that much in five weeks. I can still fit plenty in. I smile. This gives me an extra hour to fill. While the mixer does its thing, my mind turns to Sandro. The latest news from him was Thursday night, after Marra had discovered something was amiss with her son. He must be too busy this morning. Oh well, he’ll be home soon.
Every telephone conversation I’ve had with Jarrod has been full of things I wasn’t saying. Although I’d told him about Sandro’s new family, I haven’t mentioned anything about the resurgence of my feelings towards Sohrab. Nothing about the constant memories of our early days together. Nothing about how jealous I’m feeling towards Marra. And nothing about my immediate sense of possessiveness towards his two children. How can I explain this totally stupid thinking to the man who has been such a loving husband all these years? Can he tell there are gaps? He certainly never says anything. It’s always like that. He waits for me to open up, and if I don’t, he waits some more. It’s horrible having him away.
Two hours pass in a mithered, wandering way until I can push the button to close the garage door and set off for the airport. Traffic is its usual Saturday chaos making me relieved I’d left myself plenty of time. After parking in the short term car park, I arrive at the gate by twelve forty-five, and pass the time staring out the window watching the planes arrive.
* * *
The house in Adelaide seems lost as the doors close behind them all, their luggage waiting on the veranda for Sohrab to do a final check before loading the Maxi Taxi to take them to the airport, and Adam turns to bid it goodbye (in case he doesn’t get to return). It had been a scattered evening the night before, everyone frantic to pack, eat, make phone calls, book flights and arrange accommodation. Once the specialists had come to deliver their best advice, and it became clear they were taking him to Melbourne for surgery on Monday, Adam’s head has been in a thick fog of fear, unable to take in details, or to plan what he might want to take, or who he might want to tell. Several friends began spreading the news on Facebook, and he was inundated with texts and messages, none of which he can remember. He begins to imagine the tumour growing rapidly until it covers his entire head. It would explain why he can’t think, or make conversation, or help with anything. No-one seems to expect him to do stuff. The one thing which remains clear is that he’s getting to spend the night with his brother in Fitzroy, before being admitted on Monday morning. Molly has, of course, cracked the shits about that, but his parents are firm with her for a change. The three of them will stay in a motel leaving him and Sandro alone for the night. Sort of a treat, because he’s sick. Even though he can think of nothing else but this thing growing in his head, he can still feel good about having a brother and getting to stay with him in Melbourne. Bridey and Josh have their own plans to go to home to Clifton Hill. One day, he’d like to go there too. That’s if he lives!
He’s supposed to be getting the best possible help. The best neurosurgeon in Adelaide is overseas at a conference. They don’t need to wait until he finishes that because there’s another good one at the Royal Children’s Hospital in Melbourne. So, they pack up to go. Just like that! Gugunya said goodbye the night before and cried, but his Mum says that’s because she is still coming out of her own operation and doesn’t know what she’s saying. At least, he hopes, the recovery will go well. If losing your toes can go well. He wonders what losing pieces of your brain feels like. He’s glad she had Aboriginal people sitting with her all the time. Sometimes, her visitors could get a bit noisy because everyone loves her, even though they live all over the place. But last night, there were only two elders who were sitting quietly, because that was all they would let in after the operation. Once she recovers a bit, anything could happen! He wonders if his Mum will contact aboriginal people in Melbourne. He isn’t sure about that. It might make him look stupid if all these people he doesn’t know start to visit him. People don’t get that. That it’s just how it is. He loves it when he’s out on country, but when he goes somewhere different, it isn’t the same.
There’s one really big worry. The doctors seem confused about what’s going on. Sometimes they talk about two tumours, and sometimes it’s just one. Then they talk technical stuff with his Mum about how he can be having trouble at both ends of his head; so it must be two.
He is in the taxi and almost at the airport, before he realises he’s left the house.
They drop Bridey and Josh at the Virgin Terminal, and Bridey leans over to kiss him again, and hugs him, and he can feel her breasts just touch against his face as she pulls away to get out of the car. He doesn’t look up at his brother because he knows exactly how that would go. It gives him something else to think about, anyway. It’s the one good thing. She’s going to keep coming and going, saying hello and goodbye, and he’s going to get lots of kisses. Their stop interrupts the others enough so no-one notices his feelings. When she texts to say their flight has been delayed an hour, and there’s discussion about meeting up again, he gets excited, but they all decide someone will miss their flight if they don’t stay put. He begins to play with his phone while the thoughts circle around. His Mum tries to talk with him, but he just grunts, and so she shuts up.
* * *
On the Qantas flight from Adelaide, Sandro checks over his messages with his phone in flight mode. There are several from his mother letting him know she has him on her mind and is praying for them all. He misses her. Five weeks away, and her life seems so distant. Much has happened to turn his upside down. He’s wondering, for the first time, about the impact Sohrab being back in his life might have on his mother and step-father. For years, they had weathered his tantrums over the loss of his father. Particularly Jarrod, who had no biological reason for doing so, and Sandro flushes in shame for treating him with disdain; this man who attended to his every need without having any other objective but to do right by him. It’s complicated. The man sitting across the aisle from him would, under any other circumstances, not even attract his attention. He reads on. His mother’s final message clearly explains that she is picking up Bridey and Josh at the Airport and taking them out for lunch before delivering them home. He holds his breath at the implications of this, breathing a sigh of relief and kicking himself that he hadn’t even taken in this message and its implications. Thank God they are on different airlines – opposite ends of the massive International Airport. At one end, Qantas Domestic flights, at the other, Virgin Domestic, with all the hustle and bustle of International for both, in between. One long building. Even the taxi ranks operate separately for each of these. Surely, there’s no chance of them meeting. He should have warned his mother. The way these messages read indicate Adam is having his operation in Adelaide. Had he even told her about operations? He re-reads them. Nope. She doesn’t know anything from him. If Bridey has been in touch, she would have been assuming he, Sandro, her only son, was staying behind to support his father. How must that feel for her? He hasn’t even texted for a whole day, but Bridey must have. He squirms in his seat. Now, he has invited his brother to spend the night with him, and booked his father and his sister into a Motel without even considering telling his mother!
The plane lands without any hitches but not so the arrangements!
Immediately he is standing in the aisle with Sandro, Sohrab announces they will be collecting baggage and then collecting Bridey and Josh. All his efforts to avert this crisis are dismissed. There is no point. They are travelling in opposite directions. They can’t even share a taxi. Bridey is very capable of managing this by herself. His father turns on him, disgusted. “You must look after your woman. This is your job. We will put her in a taxi before ourselves. This is the right way!”
Sandro is so angry with this tirade that he mutters. “Suit yourself. I tried.”
* * *
Jack sleeps fully clothed on top of the bedcovers from 6.30am until 10.30. When he wakes, his mouth is thick and dry, and he feels like shit. He has only the vaguest idea of coming back to the Motel with Olaf. Olaf! He sits up straight, looking wildly around. The room is empty. He feels a wave of loss sweep over him, and another of guilt for wiping himself out so he doesn’t remember what happened at the end of the night. His eyes search all the tables for a message or something, but the room is still pretty dark. He checks his pockets for his phone, but there’s nothing there. No wallet. No keys. Of, course. No car. He lies flat again filled with misery, his head aching and his belly gurgling, unsure whether to be hungry, or to vomit.
It is then that he notices the fresh clean smell of soap as the bathroom door opens. A check of his clothes finds all intact, with relief. He hasn’t done anything he shouldn’t have then.
Olaf grins at him from the bathroom door trotting over in bare feet to open the curtains and let in some light. His chest is bare, sporting droplets of water still clinging to the curly blonde hair, and Jack groans. “If you don’t come over here immediately, I’m kicking you out,” he says. Olaf comes to sit on the edge of the bed dropping a hand onto Jack’s hip as he does so. “I’m going to kill you, you bastard.”
“Make up your mind, Jack. You asked me (not so pleasantly mind you) to come over immediately, and now you don’t know what you want.” He ducks as Jack makes a grab for him, missing and half falling off the bed as he does so. “Breakfast is what we both need,” he announces cheerfully from a safe distance.
“You will eat nothing until you come and lay that beautiful chest where I can run my hands through it.”
“Not such a good idea, I think.”
Jack jumps to his feet, wincing as a stabbing pain hits him between the eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what you think is a good idea,” he challenges. “Get yourself here!”
“It’s a good morning kiss you’re after, then?”
“That’ll be a good start.”
After considerable wrestling, kissing and laughing, during which time Jack runs his hands all over him, and Olaf alternately teases and tantalises him, Jack calls it quits and announces he’s hungry. “I know what you’re hungry for, Jack…” Olaf says, breaking off at the angry frown he receives in return and apologising with a bear hug. He pulls on his shirt and socks and proceeds to get ready to search out some breakfast. “Sorry mate. I can’t help it. I’m horny as anything.” When Jack continues frowning, he pauses. “Don’t sulk Jack. It’s for both of us. I’m suffering as much as you are.”
“You can’t possibly be. I haven’t had sex for over a year.”
“You win.” The simple statement leaves Jack agitated and anxious at its meaning and the lack of control he has over the situation. He sits on the edge of the bed miserable, frustrated and unsure of himself.
Olaf comes to sit beside him. When nothing is said, he reaches to put his hand on Jack’s thigh but withdraws it, saying, “Your phone was going bananas while you were asleep, buzzing. “Who’s Sandro?” His eyes roam across Jack’s face seeking. “Who’s Sohrab?” He stands. “I put it on to charge in the bathroom, so you’d get more sleep.” Grabbing his shoes, he sits on the edge of the bed to put them on. “Do you want to tell me over breakfast, or do you want to stay here and be miserable?”
Jack stares down at his crumpled clothes and sticks his nose under an armpit. “I think I need a shower.” He lowers his lashes and looks up from under them.
“Don’t try that on me! I’m going to get coffee. You’ve got twenty minutes tops. After that I’m leaving to find better company.” He steps forward and bends to kiss Jack who mutters something unpleasant. “Twenty minutes. It’s up to you.” The door closes behind him leaving him disgusted with himself.
“If you stuff this up, Jack…” He fishes out clean jeans and a cute, thick, tight-fitting bone coloured jumper. “At least you may as well look decent!” he tells himself sternly, turning on the hot water and finding his shampoo. “What on earth are you doing stuffing this guy around?” A flood of memories of Tim come washing back. No-one could replace Tim.
