Facing the Sun, page 9
“I’m not withdrawing Bridey, I’m trying to wrap my head around that night.” We stand facing each other, not touching, both conscious this is some important milestone in our friendship. The evening fills with quiet. Not a sound reaches us from plant or animal, wind or weather. As I stare into his face, watching the flicker of his eyes, my anxiety holds me tense. Then he begins to speak. “I was very angry with you that night, and the next day.” I nod, trying to hold back the tears. “You were behaving badly.” This time my jaw sets. “But mostly I was trying to protect you from Homarta and give you time to think about where you were headed.” His face is earnest, and I am hearing it straight. “Nevertheless, I am sorry for the pain you experienced and more regretful if it has caused distance between us.” He looks up, and his gaze sweeps across the night sky as though, if he consulted the stars, he could find answers there. “Can you forgive me?” When I don’t answer, he continues. “You know, we struggle, us Caretakers. Like humans, we make decisions that are not always in the best interests of the people we care for, and I’m wondering about this one.”
Other times, when I had complained of his sternness, or insistence on something, all I’d got back was a clear message that it was my problem to sort. This time is different. My hands creep up to his shoulders. “Just because I was particularly fragile and hating myself, doesn’t mean it didn’t help to get away, I suppose.” The big breath provides courage. “And, I did know you would not leave me there. I remember now. That was what held me together. But, when you came back for me you were really horrible.” The tears roll off the curve of my cheeks. “That was part of the reason I broke down, I think.” I stare at him intently. “Don’t do it again!”
He draws me to him kissing the top of my head. Clouds from nowhere roll over us as we stand holding onto each other with more equality than before, when he had been in charge, and I had felt I had so little say in what took place between us. A light sprinkle of rain falls encouraging us to lift up our faces to receive it until it grows heavier saturating the light clothes, droplets running in rivulets over my nose and lips pooling in the space between my breasts. I gasp, attempting to pull away to wipe my face and run for cover, but Torrenclar is literally in his element, holding firm while the rain batters us for ten minutes then abruptly ceases. Laughing, he takes my hand and runs with me back the way we’d come until we reach the house.
Inside, the state of the boys bears no resemblance to that of Bridey and Torrenclar. The more they drink, the less they feel, rather than filling them with possibility, they are sinking into a morass of self-pity, Sandro bewailing the loss of his newly discovered father, never to be beside him in the way he’d been originally, from birth until he turned five; Jack struck with loneliness as he pours out the struggles of being gay, indigenous and a loner in need of a lover. Having to balance all this struggle against his determination to help his brother-in-law feels like too much. Neither notices Josh listening in complete silence, learning about these two men and how much, in his own loneliness, he identifies with their struggles but never with what he decides is their absolute goodness.
Another hot night keeps the travellers tossing and turning, wondering where life will take them next. But waking with the first light of dawn is a relief. Jack is inside with the kettle brewing when Bridey and Sandro appear after deciding to save water and shower together – possibly their last shower for some days. The truck’s water tanks replenished the night before, tyres checked, refuelling done, all that remains is a trip to the General Store. Their plan is to take it slowly, two days to Leigh Creek at least, not pushing to reach home any faster than planned (the idea had been to stay away for five weeks and they still have enough days to take in the desert as they travel). Only Sandro’s anxiety about his father threatens to hasten them along, but they make a pact not to allow it. After all, Josh and Bridey’s first trip through the desert is not to be wasted; life has been hard enough already. The fervent hope is that Sohrab will be in Adelaide by the time they arrive there. Both agree Jack’s company is a bonus. Josh hadn’t participated in the discussion having taken himself off to bed early the night before. When they manage to extricate him from his slumbers, he eats in silence and agrees with some alacrity to take up the offer of a seat in Jack’s Ute.
“Something’s up with Josh.” Bridey says as soon as their vehicle revs up. “He’s too quiet.”
“Yep. He certainly is!” Sandro swings the wheel to enter the road heading out of Birdsville. “Last night, he hardly spoke a word. Did you notice the way he hung back at the airport yesterday? Molly was furious, wasn’t she?” He checks his mirrors and adjusts his seat slightly feeling with pleasure the ease of his leg. “How did you get on with Torrenclar? It’s weird not having them around.”
“He was lovely. I enjoyed it.” She glances across to see how this is going, but it seems fine. “We talked of the Source some of the time. After that, I was far less worried about your family. It’s awful the way things have gone, but I reckon it’ll work out okay. How are you?”
“I’m a lot better than I thought I would be. There seems to be lightness and ease where there should be worry. You know, the Source spoke to me in the desert when I ran off.”
“You never told me about what happened out there.”
“No.” he grins across at her. “We’ve only had a moment or two in the shower alone together. Not long enough for anything.”
“Well, we have slept together some of the time, but you’ve been up and down like a Yo-Yo. You were so drunk by the time you got to bed last night, I could have kicked you. In fact I did. You snored; and stank.”
He puts a hand onto her thigh, “Sorry Babe. It’s Jack’s fault,” grinning at her outrage. “And the night before it was Molly. This new family of mine are proving difficult.” His face drops. “Actually that’s another thing I didn’t get to tell you about. I gave Josh a hard time because I just assumed he’d let me down. I found Molly in his bed. He wanted to go home. Took me ages to settle him. Only Flagran appearing stopped him from taking off.” He pauses to concentrate while passing a slower car, to catch up with Jack. “You know, I love that guy. Could’ve kicked myself. Am kicking myself. He hasn’t been the same since.”
“He was jubilant about coming here and seeing her, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. And we haven’t seen that side of him since.”
“I could travel with Jack. You could suss him out.”
They agree that the lunch break would be a good time to swap over, but Josh isn’t having it. “Maybe he just needs some time,” Bridey suggests as they climb back in together, setting off again. “Time to process it all.”
* * *
Atmospheric conditions in the Ute are not all they could have been, Jack’s passenger failing to take up several promising leads as far as the conversation went. I must be losing my touch, he decides. It seems a shame given the trip is several hours, and he most often travels alone. After the lunch break, and Josh’s clear desire to stay in the vehicle he’d chosen, he has to assume it isn’t the company that’s the problem.
“Tell me your story Josh. Where did you meet Sandro and Bridey?”
“Melbourne.”
“How?”
“Look! I get you’re a Social Worker, or some shit like that. You don’t have to know everything.”
Taken aback, Jack chooses silence for the next hour during which time his companion fights with himself, his impulse to apologise clashing with his desire to keep his thoughts to himself. Eventually the former wins. That is down to the intense sense of heat and discomfort, despite the air conditioning, becoming intolerable. Jack’s silence looms.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Jack decides to take the hard road. “Well, you were rude. As if I was playing the welfare game! Only trying to get to know you. To get to know all of you. Total strangers to me.”
Josh squirms, a minor volcano brewing inside him. His chest tightens until he puts his hand on it rubbing to ease the pain while Jack, noting the action, hopes he hasn’t stepped on him too hard and wishes he’d stuck with being easy and friendly. This game is a dodgy one. One false move and all could end up going south.
“It’s me being here that’s got Molly into trouble,” he blurts out.
So that’s it! Jack now finds himself on steadier ground. “How’s that?”
“Look. I don’t get it. You all pretend as though it’s nothing. You all know if I hadn’t been here it wouldn’t have happened. If I hadn’t kissed her at the camp, Sandro would be with his Dad now.”
“You think a lot of him, don’t you?” Too much. Josh clamps his mouth shut and won’t say another word. The drive stretches on in total silence. Before they reach their destination for the afternoon break, Jack has decided Bridey would make much better company, and he determines to insist on it. This young man needs to have whatever’s going on out with Sandro. He doesn’t have a relationship with him, but clearly Sandro does, which makes it his problem to sort. When they stop again, and Josh wanders over to check out a big rig pulled up in front, Jack brings it up with the couple. There’s no argument there. Sandro’s keen to spend a few hours with Josh alone and Bridey’s keen to travel with Jack. They down the last of their drinks and head back towards the vehicles. Looking around, unobstructed by the rig which had pulled out about five minutes after their arrival, there’s no sign of Josh. Sandro lets out a “coo-ee!” Jack shuffles his feet in the sand while Bridie shifts her things into the Ute. It’s a great opportunity to chat with someone new, and the thirty minute break has given her, not only the opportunity to stretch her legs but plenty of bushes behind which she’d found a much needed private spot. Returning, she stares impatiently at the others. “Where’s he gone? His timing’s sucks.”
Jack begins to scout around for tracks while Sandro continues to call out in a booming voice leaving no possibility that he’s not been heard. “He must have walked far out of range,” she says to Sandro who’s clearly worried, “He’s been really moody today, hasn’t he?”
Twenty minutes of waiting and scouting turns up nothing. As far as Jack’s tracking skills reveal, there are no tracks leading away from their parking spot which can’t be identified as either Sandro’s, Bridey’s, or his own. Fear grows between them. “I hate to suggest it,” Jack mutters, “but I think he must’ve taken off in that rig. He certainly hasn’t left any tracks other than across the sand here and over to those tyre marks there.” He stares at his companions. “Let’s move out quickly. He’s got too long a start on him, and we’ll have to watch for turnoffs. That bloke might have been going anywhere. I didn’t see what he was carrying, but it could have been a delivery for one of the local homesteads anywhere within hundreds of kilometres.” This is followed by a frozen silence only interrupted by the realisation of time racing past. Bridey keeps to her decision to ride with Jack leaving Sandro alone with his thoughts. Leading the way, Jack’s keen eyes are on the lookout for signs of the rig leaving the bitumen. They reach their planned stop at Mungerannie without a sign of hope and clamber out onto stiff limbs to confer. Driving through the night is a poor option; too difficult to discern tracks, and the danger of the combination of tiredness, animals and night driving makes them set up camp, morose and hungry. Twenty minutes later, Jack, who doesn’t need to put up a tent, returns with good news and bad news. The former is accompanying him, and as for the latter, there’s no sign of Josh, or the rig.
Father and son stare at each other for minutes longer than feels comfortable. Shame keeps Sohrab from stepping forward, while Sandro is unsure what to do. He hardly knows this complicated person standing in front of him. It may be his father, but he’s not someone he can understand having not grown up with him. Holding back would lead to more distance, so in the end he steps forward and kisses him hoping it will be received without rancour. Jack has already filled his brother-in-law in on Marra’s movements. They flatly refuse to join the other camp. Too much power is bad for Sohrab, Sandro decides. This time, he can come to them and do it their way, which turns out to be a good move. He’d already dined with his friend but sits with them while they throw down heated up canned food. Eating in subdued silence, each attempts to thrash out their own concerns, while fear for Josh dominates over any pleasure in having found Sohrab who could make it extremely difficult for Josh when, or if, they catch up with him.
Bridey, having ‘cooked’, is sitting back waiting for someone to clean up after her efforts when Sohrab gathers up the few dishes. His back to the others, he doesn’t notice when a big rig pulls into the large area off to one side. The three stare at it disappointed it has come from the south.
“That’s the same rig, though,” Jack insists. They take his word for it, heading off to check it out and leaving Sohrab to his task.
Approaching the rig just as the door opens, they are confronted with a dramatic sight. A large, extremely scary looking woman is backing down the steps, her bare arms covered in ferocious tats, her grey singlet top making only a miniscule impression on the expanse of exposed skin. Protruding from her clasped hand is Josh’s thin arm which is followed by his small frame clearly finding it challenging to climb out while attached to her. As his feet hit the ground, she whips him around to face the campsites and both encounter the welcome committee. “Here, take him!” she says. “Not interested in your thoughts on the subject. Running behind enough already.” With this, she gives him a violent shove in the back causing him to stumble, and turns to mount the steps again. Jack and Sandro, grabbing an arm each, watch the rig pull out onto the road and head south, mouths open.
“God!” Jack says. “You’re well out of that lot!”
Furious, Josh wrenches at his restraints, determined to storm away again, but both hold their grip. “I’ve got this,” Sandro says to Jack. “You go back to camp. We’re heading out for a walk.” With that, he turns, dragging his unwilling companion out of sight.
“What the fuck was that all about?” The two stand glaring at each other. “Kidnapped were you?” Despite himself, Josh’s face splits into a pale grin. “You don’t own me! I’ve told you that
“Whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with us for the remainder of the trip,” Sandro answers coldly. “And you will be travelling with me, sleeping with me, until you get this out of your system.” It’s not just the tone but the accompanying glare. “How dare you?” he says, spitting out the last words. “How dare you turn what we have together into that?” His stiffened shoulders and angry stance are followed with the final thrust. “You made me a commitment to support me in this venture. You’ve obviously lost interest in it. Now, all we have left is to get you home safely.” With that, he turns on his heel and strides off, leaving Josh stranded. Two minutes later he swings back to the sound of running feet and plants his own firmly in the sand, his arms crossed across his chest. The boy halts, battling for words, mouth open, eyes pleading. “Josh, that seriously hurt me. You know how I feel about you. How could you turn it into that? Like I’m one of your foster parents who you can’t get along with. We were mates.” His voice breaks, and he pauses surprised at the depth of the welling feelings.
Frozen, Josh has no inkling of how to mend this. “Sandro…it was just…” After a lengthy wait, Sandro also unable to speak and filled with struggles of his own expanding from somewhere deep inside, they walk in silence back to the campsite, a stone wall between them built of decades of feeling hurt and lost. Sohrab has disappeared. Jack is wandering in solitude, and Bridey, watching them come towards her, is filled with dismay. As they reach the camp, Josh speaks again. “Sandro, I promise I won’t go anywhere. You should sleep with Bridey.” With that he climbs into the tent she’s raised for him, zipping up the fly.
Sandro can’t bring himself to speak of what had taken place between them but cuddles into Bridey for comfort, convinced he’s made matters much worse, while in the small tent Josh sobs himself to sleep, and Jack, returning, listens, wishing he could help but knowing it would not be well received. In his swag, he broods, pondering on the complications of life. Early the next morning, Bridey unzips the flap of the small tent and crawls in, snuggling up to Josh who says nothing but is grateful for her touch. “Go into him Josh,” she says after ten minutes. “I don’t know what happened out there, or why you ran away, but you know he loves you a lot. Go fix it!” She lies hopeful for twenty more minutes, but, when there’s no movement, she leaves the tent taking herself for a walk around the huge area, noting its beauty but unable to appreciate it. Why is it always a mess she asks herself? Why do we keep rolling from one trouble to another? I don’t get it.
Six
Jack has his own problems in the bright light of the morning. Zipping up his jeans, he turns from the desert in front of him to find himself face to face with Dale, who, until that moment, unaware of having materialised, has been standing watching him. His hopeful smile dims at the angry face in front of him, but, determined to not be found in dereliction of his duty again, he decides to sweat it out. “Good morning,” he says with counterfeit cheerfulness. This is met with stony silence. “Just thought I’d hang around and say hello; see what you were doing.” It seems friendly to Dale’s ears, but the effect on his listener fills him with dismay. His face falls into a stiff upwards tilt of the lips, which Jack interprets as a leer. “Hang on a minute,” he stumbles out, “I just want to get to know you a bit, thought we could be friends.”
Jack had had many such encounters over his adult life, filling him with self-disgust and shame. His teenage years had been a battleground, his hormones raging against his longings for affection and intimacy, rather than collaborating with them. Too often, he’d had to settle for someone using him and walking away, leaving him feeling dirty and cheap; but this stage was over, forever. Tim’s death had knocked him badly. They had met over the back fence adjoining their houses in Adelaide’s beautiful sandstone suburbs. New to Australia, Tim rented from Irish friends with an investment property. Apples grew amongst bright green grass, hanging well-established boughs over the back fence and separating two built up vegetable garden boxes filled with winter greens or summer tomatoes. Long periods away from home meant Jack having to employ someone to water. Fruit wasted, turning brown on the ground at Jack’s side of the fence. But Tim spirited away anything he could reach from his side and gazed longingly at the tomatoes and strawberries wondering if he could just hop over and harvest them. He began to recognise signs that the owner was absent and did just that on a number of occasions before the two met and Tim confessed to being a thief. Jack then admitted he knew about the robberies. In fact, he had caught sight of Tim several times and experienced an immediate attraction which prevented him from revealing himself for months. The arrangement that Tim would attend to the garden necessitated frequent discussions about vegetables until the two were spending long summer evenings in one or other of the backyards drinking beer and whiskey and developing the friendship which eventually led to their relationship. Both had been certain the other would not welcome advances. A decade later, Tim began to waste away. Jack took extended leave to nurse him, until Tim died in his arms at home.
