Facing the Sun, page 19
“What?” Olaf’s voice is muffled as he pushes his lips into the back of Jack’s neck, his body arching. Excitement coursing through him, Olaf finds he can’t stop, isn’t even trying to stop, everything building until he wants to slam into this body with all of his strength. Jack certainly isn’t holding back, writhing and groaning, both sweating profusely until the slippery skin between them becomes a slide to paradise. Too fast, he tells himself. Too soon. What have I done? He clings to the body of this man he’d met only a day or two ago but wants to stay with forever, and thinks, What the fuck! What does it matter? Sometimes you’ve just got to take the risk.
The sweat dries, and the skin warms again as they lie, one sleeping, the other thinking of his future, of his life as it would now become. Jack doesn’t live in Melbourne. That had been forgotten when he’d let go. Jack is a desert man. This much he knows from listening to tales of idiots running out of water and treating Jack like shit. He shifts his arms to draw the dark skin closer licking his tongue along one shoulder and rubbing his short beard into the neck he finds there, until Jack hunches in protest. This isn’t going to be a case of letting him go. He knows that. But it is going to be a problem of how to keep him close. He’s fallen into a deep well and has no desire to search for a way out. Silence between them feels smooth like floating on a lilo, on and on down the river towards the sea; a long way off yet.
Eleven
When he comes to consciousness again at five, Jack is hungry and stiff, in several places. Extricating himself to go to the bathroom proves difficult. Olaf’s firm grip won’t release. Fast asleep, he snores softly, breathing heavily with his mouth closed, while his eyes are slightly open endowing him with a faintly creepy look. The effort it has taken to pull one arm out from under his locked elbow should have woken him but didn’t. The entire back of his own body feels unhappily cooler after spooning for two hours into the broad chest, but he sits staring down at Olaf from the side of the bed taking him in in silence before pushing his knees into the space made between the hunched legs and chest and assaulting him awake. He grasps the uppermost forearm pressing his fingers into muscle, working them backwards and forwards until he hears a deep groan of pain. Shifting his hand to run it across the hip, blood begins to rise. If you continue in this way you’re never going to get fed, he tells himself sternly. But the temptation is intense, and hunger appears to be a secondary need. The firm skin under his lips inspires him to nip the rounded buttock with his teeth experiencing immense satisfaction which induces him repeat the procedure, the second time choosing a more pliable area and digging in deeper. The yelp this produces causes him to spring back to safety, grinning broadly. At the interest in the bearded face (if combined with protest at the completely unprovoked attack), he jumps on the body in the bed attempting to gain an advantage over his opponent, but is confused, Olaf, playing dead, lies prostrate, wide open arms across the bed.
Propping back on his haunches, he stares down.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Olaf asks. “Come on. Do what you want.”
Puzzled, Jack hesitates, wondering about this game and how it’s played. He decides to go in for the kill, soon abandoning all caution once the two are rolling and wrestling in a mad frenzy of excitement. Olaf, ducking and weaving until the instant he senses Jack’s concentration has been overwhelmed with desire, springs up and pins him, holding him in place with one knee across the small of his back, and gloating. “Now, you’re completely at my mercy, Jack, and you have no idea if I even have mercy.” Jack, roaring in protest, makes a massive effort causing him to fall forward, trapped. Furious at his inglorious defeat, he employs every ounce of strength, wiry but tough, to throw himself from side to side until, his freedom won, he jumps on the persecutor so suddenly Olaf collapses with a satisfyingly loud grunt of breath, his face buried in the pillows. Jack then loses all interest in play, excitement dominating every other impulse. When it’s over, he pauses for a moment or two to recover his breath, raising himself to his elbows, then springs to his feet saying, “Okay. Let’s eat.” Grabbing his jeans from where he’d dropped them to the floor, he pulls them on saying, “That was immensely satisfying, Olaf. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but now we must replenish supplies.” Reaching forward, he slaps Olaf’s bum. “Get up, oaf, and tend to my other needs! Let’s hit this town, I’m high as a kite and looking forward to many more battles of a similar nature.”
Olaf responds, slowly. “Where are the post-coital moments with you Jack? The first time, you dropped asleep, and now you’ve jumped out of the bed without a tender word. And you call me an oaf!”
Jack’s grin widens as he throws clothes at him. “Up! Now!”
“Or what?”
“I haven’t time to deal with you now, but I’d be delighted to do it later. Now, we must hit the town.” He spins on his heels, leaving to clean his teeth and run an ineffective comb through his thick black, curly hair; the result being scarcely worth the effort. Before he’s given up completely, arms come around his waist and turn him. He stares up into the face in front, searching it. “All good?”
“I think so. I think I’m just hungry, but I’ll let you know later.”
“Whooh! There’s a thought. Let’s go!” The two leave the Hotel, arms around each other. Despite the wider acceptance of homosexuality, they receive a few looks as they stride through the Melbourne streets, but their age and experience bring a certain ease with that, especially as their physical fitness is obvious. Jack was glad of Olaf’s bulk when a bunch of restless youths hurled catcalls after them, some referring to Jack’s dark skin and suggesting he leave Australia and return to where he’d sprung from. The two laugh this off, their spirits high. “How high does a kite fly, Jack, before you lose it?” His companion is puzzled for a moment.
“Oh that! I was referring to a live Kite; the one that soars through the heavens searching for prey; like you.” His grin’s infectious. “And then it swoops, and the poor, little animal is lost.”
“You’re all over the place.”
“Never mind, Teacher. It’s your job to keep up with me.”
They find a surprisingly quiet, little place to eat in the heart of Southbank. At the suggestion that quiet may mean poor food, Olaf points out the time. Only 6.15 (due to Jack’s strange needs). A corner appeals, and after ordering a beer, they begin to search the Menu. “I could go some thick cut chips with beer,” Jack announces.
“Only your incredible energy explains why you’re not fat.”
“I’m not usually this high.” It seems important to make this clear before their relationship becomes based on ideas he can’t live up to. “I’m scared. I’m trying to steer my way around losing it, so I’m using you, my friend.” His forehead drops with a groan onto the table in front of him. Looking up again, he catches Olaf’s expression and thrusts out a hand to grasp his wrist. “No, no. That’s not where I’m going with this. I’m sorry.”
Olaf’s expression is now unreadable.
“It’s Adam.” Anxious not to flatten their spirits, he tries to move past it, but Olaf holds on to it.
“You seem very close to those kids.”
“Not having any of my own, I suppose. I’ve always taken to kids. Hence my job.”
“Talk to me.”
“My sister is a special woman. If anything happens to Adam, I don’t think she’d survive it. And anyway, I don’t want her to have to go through any of this. It’s not fair. She puts out so much.” Olaf’s silence bothers him. “We should go back to where we were. There’s nothing you can do, so there’s no point in this conversation.” More silence follows while Jack waits. The chips and beer arrive. For something to do, Jack begins to eat. “It’s quite the wrong time to start a new relationship, isn’t it?” Again, his companion offers nothing. The awkwardness grows taut with pressure, until Jack considers complaining, but his nature is bent towards waiting and silence, and eventually it pays off.
“I don’t like the thought of you using me to get through a difficult weekend. Did you have sex because you were looking for distractions? Is that why you jumped up and ran away? If so, I don’t want to do this.”
Jack’s spirits sag. “Oh please, Olaf. Don’t take it that way. That’s not what I meant.” His warm brown eyes, filled with tenderness, gaze into the blue ones across the table. Reaching out, he folds Olaf’s hands in his own holding them. “These last many hours have been the best I’ve had for years.” At this point, the waiter returns to take their order and is waved away.
“You’ve sat here stuffing chips into yourself, like it’s nothing.” The choked voice makes him cough and shake his head. “This is serious business for me. I told you I don’t do one night stands.” Turning away, he fights for control avoiding the intense gaze opposite. “I’m sick of all the comings and goings. I’m sick of thinking this might work, and it doesn’t. This is a big risk for me, Jack. Don’t stuff me around.”
“Do you want to go?”
“No. I don’t want to go. I want to stay and have this out. To know your family, your friends, be part of something that’s been missing.” His chest expands with a deep breath. While holding it and himself steady, he pushes it out again. “This is too early. I’m sorry.”
Alarm stabs at Jack. “What do you mean, too early?”
“I mean, I’m moving in too fast. And, while you’ve got big stuff on your mind. I can’t help myself.” He sits breathing shallow breaths and picks up the menu to look like he’s doing something.
Jack also pretends to scan the possibilities. Laying it down again, he says softly, “When I jumped off the bed this afternoon, I hurt you. I’m very sorry. It’s not my usual way of doing things. It looks bad, I know, but I’m wrestling with guilt at being so happy while my nephew might be fighting for his life. If he wasn’t with Sandro tonight, I’d be doing something with him. Sandro’s good value, but they only just met a week or two ago. It’s new. It’s a distraction for Adam to stay with him. It’s okay for me to be with you, but…” he reaches for understanding receiving a blank look in return. Breath expels slowly from his puffed cheeks. “You know,” he begins again, “it’s a massive risk for me too. I’ve been manic all afternoon. Tearing around like a dog caught on a leash. It’s easy to see what that must look like. But, I do want this. I’ve never started and just run off. Sure, there’s been a few one night stands over a couple of decades, because every now and then, things get desperate. But, this isn’t one of those. I want you.” His chest begins to tingle. “I want to get to know you.” The waiter arrives to make a second attempt to gain their attention, and, this time, the two men are grateful for the distraction. After he leaves, Jack searches Olaf’s face. “Right now, I want to go back to the Motel with you.”
Olaf shakes his head, smiling slowly. “This weekend is big for you,” he says. “You might need an early night.” At the look of distress, his smile widens. “We should get a good video, or something.”
* * *
Flagran stirs. When he comes to, he is lying prostrate on red hot coals. Far from experiencing discomfort, he lies back drawing the heat into his body experiencing it as cold, for no apparent reason. He longs for the sun: for intense, explosive heat, at the same time enjoying the restful nature of his bed. On examining his feelings, he finds them varied. Part of him feels consumed by his own desire and completed in it. Another feels uneasily aware of missing elements. All attempts to bring these into consciousness fail; they are like fragments of a dream. Much of his mind is assuring him they are unimportant now.
Many earth hours later, he remembers he had been drawn into this core by the Source. Until that moment, he’d been holidaying; in a restful place; at peace. Startled at the memory, he springs to his feet. What has happened? Where is the Source? The instructions return: “Stay with me. Don’t let go!”
He becomes anxious. What will the present mean for the future? Can he bear such change? His spiritual body feels light and airy, as though he has dropped many kilos and now can move more easily through…where? Where does he want to move? What has been lost? This agitates him. Something major missing, and it is the Source, he decides. He had let go.
The coals beneath him have cooled. He has been resting and dreaming of disastrous events, none of which he can now recall. Scrambling to his feet, the sense of being lighter returns, and there is something odd about his head. Thoughts race through his mind: horrendous flames; battling to remain present; the Source with him, “Don’t let go!” It is a volcano. Inside the volcano had been superb. Many times during his existence, he had tended areas around active volcanos and been entranced by the opportunities, the depth and richness of fire, unimaginable heat which always called to him. Working with humans seemed, when he first began, to go against his very nature, but, with time, had become deeply engrossing. Recently, he had experienced boredom because, beyond creating an atmosphere in which the Source might be recognised, there hadn’t been much to do in the way of extricating his charges from unmanageable conflict, or stepping between them and disaster.
His feelings for Adam, observing his struggle with his eyesight, have been intense, but he is unable to affect the outcome there; up to this point. The Source had drawn him to the volcano, because of his restlessness, and it is his fervent hope that ku has no intention of returning him to work such as this volcano because the loss of human contact now would be unbearable. Ku had drawn him forward requesting him to accompany ku into the heart of an eruption. Clearly, he had been asked to resist the pull of the earth which many times attempted to return to its original condition; a flame from the star which humans refer to as the sun, and without which it would be impossible for them to survive. Many humans worship the sun in one way or another. All enjoy its’ heat. Some source its’ energy. And, a few prefer to spend the bulk of their lives lying about in it; even when that is impossible. Some still worship the sun as a god. Flagran himself feels the pull of the sun in the core of the earth, and his innermost being understands the battle. But, in order to work for the Source, he must resist such battles tending fire for the good of humankind. On waking, he had felt lighter, as though the gravitational pull on his being had lessened, but he well knew things are not always what they seem. He paces inside the earth wondering if what is expected of him will become clear with time, or if he now has the task before him to discern the nature of circumstances.
As he paces, something occurs to him. He could consult the Source. Frustrated that he hasn’t thought of this immediately, he spends some time berating himself about that, and then decides to get on with it. His lightness is delightful. His heart is light. His desire to be with fire, whilst still apparent, has morphed into peaceful joining with, as opposed to the battleground he often experienced. If the Source has let him go, then this was where he would remain; at peace. It continues in this way until he notices his attention has not yet returned to the Source.
The place where he walks is a ring of almost cooled lava wending its way around the inside of the mountain, ebbing and flowing in width. Every once in a while, the ribbon almost disappears making it essential to watch his step, not because it would be dangerous for him to fall, but because he is enjoying the stroll. As he paces, he begins to turn his heart to his Core experiencing the intensity of excitement he always feels once he has achieved the focus this requires. It is not that the Source has appeared, but more that he feels in the flow, exactly as the molten lava flows. There comes a time when his search for connection begins to overtake the peace. He stands still and calls aloud, “Come to me, my Core!”
The result is complete silence.
* * *
A late spring Sunday in Melbourne is uncomfortably cool for the desert travellers as they leave their Motel inadequately dressed for a walk to the Melbourne Zoo. Yesterday hadn’t worked out that well for the zoo, and the five of them went to Sandro’s unit instead, where he cooked them dinner and they all retired early, Adam deciding to stay with his brother both nights. (Their plan was to go out to Science Works this afternoon). Although they warm as they walk, it becomes necessary to take advantage of the shop to purchase scarves and hats, much to Molly’s delight. Because it is her birthday, she is able to persuade her distracted parents to buy her a cute koala. When suggested she might be too old at fifteen for a cuddly toy, she pooh-poohs the idea. The three wander slowly around the enclosures holding hands. Although her parents are too quiet, Molly is in her element having them all to herself like this. She loves being the one who stands in the middle holding them together. As they walk, she is thinking. It’s been tough lately, even before Adam had been diagnosed. Until now, she had thought of herself as the victim and her parents as making things difficult for themselves. Being with them like this is turning her mind in an unaccustomed direction. Perhaps, she hasn’t been too thoughtful lately. Perhaps, she shouldn’t have gone after Josh like that. He certainly had made it clear he was disgusted with her. She begins to get angry when she remembers what a shit he’d been, but she is also squirming. Does she think about herself too much? Dad is home now, but it doesn’t seem like him and Mum are getting on that well. They aren’t talking much. Last night over dinner she’d had to make all the conversation, recounting things about her friends, talking about ideas she had for when she left school next year, which her Mum had shaken off, but had yanked her father out of worrying about Adam to be mad at her. At least it made him speak. Suddenly, in the middle of the reptile enclosure, she has a brilliant idea.
