Traditions (Chapter 11)

Chapter Eleven

‘About what comes next.'

Yes. That’s what he’d said just before he drifted off to sleep last night. And then I spent most of the rest of the night tossing and turning as Charlie’s words seemed to rattle around in my brain for most of it.

What exactly did he mean when he’d said that, I wondered. I truly hoped that I wasn’t reading too much into his response, and that there was nothing for me to worry about, but that didn’t stop my mind from jumping from one conclusion to another.

As I held him through the night, listening to his breathing, the wind howled endlessly around the eaves of the old Californian bungalow that was Charlie’s home, which creaked and shifted as it had done for as long as I could remember. And so they stayed with me, those four words, even as I tried not to let them fester.

At some point I must have slept, however, as the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes in the dim, grey, pre-dawn light, holding him close to me, my arm draped over his torso, my fingers gently resting over his heart, which I could feel beating steadily below them. He slept wrapped up in my embrace, trusting, warm, unaware of the knots he’d tied up inside me with a single sentence. I told myself not to overthink it. Charlie wasn’t the sort to drop hints or landmines. He wasn’t cruel.

It was probably nothing. Just my mind running ahead of me, leaping from one conclusion to another.

Probably.

The morning was soon filled with the quiet comfort of shared routines. Coffee, burnt toast lathered with butter and vegemite, and both of us moving around the kitchen in our underwear, barefoot, shirtless, our hair still a mess.

If Charlie was thinking about pushing me away, he wasn’t acting like it. But still, these doubtful thoughts lingered.

It wasn’t until we were sitting on the back steps, mugs in hand, while watching low clouds shut out the mountains to the west of town, that I finally cracked.

‘Hey,’ I carefully ventured. ‘Last night. When you said, you know . . . about what comes next.’

Charlie’s hand froze in mid-air, just briefly, before finishing the journey and bringing the mug to his lips. He looked thoughtful, after taking a sip.

‘I was wondering when you’d bring that up,’ he said quietly.

I waited.

Charlie stared out at the yard for a moment, jaw working as though he was arranging his thoughts into something solid enough to say out loud.

‘It’s not what you’re thinking it might be,’ he finally said to me. ‘It’s just . . . I’ve been getting deeper and deeper into the shit since mum died, and I can’t keep pretending things will just sort themselves out. Especially not after . . .’

‘After what?’

‘After everything that you and your family have done for me. You fucking saved me, Kieran! You’ve given me something to live for!’

The words sat heavy between us.

‘I’ve been given this second chance,’ he went on. ‘And I damn sure don’t want to waste it. I want to do things properly. Face what I’ve been avoiding.’

My heart slowed a little. This wasn’t about me leaving. This was about him staying.

‘There are things I need to do,’ Charlie said. ‘I need to talk to your dad. About the lawyers. About mum’s estate. He said he would help.’

‘And he will,’ I replied, and then, unable to stop myself from smiling, I placed an arm around his shoulders and leaned closer, before kissing the side of his head.

This wasn’t about anything I had thought it might be about. It was about him facing up to life. To his responsibilities.

‘And then I need to swallow my pride, go see Matt,’ he added. ‘Ask for my job back, or something.’

‘That’s not pride,’ I said gently. ‘That’s just keeping things real and facing up to reality.’

He smiled weakly. ‘Maybe that’s the same thing sometimes,’ he said, but then he hesitated. ‘And there’s something else.’

I turned to face him fully. ‘Okay.’

He met my eyes, and for a moment the boy I’d known since childhood – awkward, guarded, terrified of being left behind – was right there on the surface.

‘It’s about . . . us,’ he ventured. ‘Are we . . . I mean are you . . . staying?’

That question hit me harder than anything else he’d said. But I didn’t even have to think about it.

‘Of course I am,’ I replied. ‘After losing my job I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go. But even if I did – this is where I want to be . . . here with you. For as long as you’ll have me!’

The relief on his face was instant and overwhelming. He leaned into me, and when he kissed me it was slow, careful . . . like he was committing my answer to memory.

It was later that morning when we went around to mum and dad’s place, finding them in the kitchen.

‘Good morning, boys,’ mum greeted us. ‘Just in time to help with lunch.’

‘It better be a light one,’ I replied. ‘The last two days we’ve had enough to last a week.’

‘Yeah, I hear you,’ dad replied.

Helping myself to some juice from the fridge, I poured two glasses and handed one to Charlie.

‘So, you and your cousins seem to be keen on this trip to Sydney,’ dad said. ‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’

‘Well, I do need to go down there, and if we can do it soon, and if we can use Uncle Leo’s vehicle and trailer, why not make a road trip of it?’ I replied.

‘I guess,’ dad replied. ‘Maybe you should do it over New Year? A New Year’s eve in Sydney would be quite an event, I would think.’

‘Now that’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll call them later on and talk to them about it to see what they think. But that’s not really what we wanted to talk about while we’re here for lunch, though,’ I added.’

‘I see. And what exactly was that?’ my father asked.

I glanced at Charlie and raised my eyebrows questioningly, and received a slight nod in reply.

‘You offered to help Charlie with sorting things out. Does that offer still stand?’

‘Of course it does.’

Just then mum interrupted and said, ‘If you boys are going to talk business, how about you head into the living room, while I throw something together for lunch?’

‘Excellent idea,’ my father replied, before heading out of the kitchen, with Charlie and me following.

When we were settled, dad asked Charlie what was going on and what he needed help with.

Charlie started explaining about the solicitors and the bank trying to contact him, but as he’d been so upset after losing his mother he just couldn’t bear to deal with any of it. Dad listened without interrupting, nodding along as Charlie spoke, with his hands folded in his lap, his voice wavering only once or twice. When Dad asked if he had any paperwork from the lawyers, Charlie hesitated.

‘I think there might be,’ he said quietly. ‘At the house.’

My father didn’t push the point, but suggested we try and find everything that Charlie might have that afternoon, and then come back that evening for dinner. He said he’d take a look thought it all and then make a few calls once we had something concrete to work with.

Mum called us into the kitchen for lunch shortly afterwards, adding that we needed to wash up and also call Toby, and so we went back through to the kitchen and then down the hall to Toby’s bedroom, where we found him sleeping. Other than the fact that his hand was down the front of his pants – a relatively common thing for a good many teenagers I would have thought – he looked quite peaceful. I felt guilty about the fact that I was about to wake him up from whatever dream he might be enjoying.

I shot Charlie a grin as I entered the bedroom and sat on the edge of Toby’s bed, while Charlie waited at the door.

‘Hey, dreamboat,’ I said to Toby, as I gently shook his shoulder. ‘Time for lunch.’

‘Yeah . . . yeah . . . hmmm . . . that’s nice . . .’ Toby mumbled.

‘Oi! Toby! Wakey, wakey, hands off snakey!’ I said, a bit louder this time, while also shaking him by the arm. I could hear Charlie giggling quietly behind me.

There were some more mumbles, some of which sounded suspiciously like the word Stuart, though I couldn’t really be sure of that. This time his eyes opened though, and I could see him trying to focus.

‘Nice dream?’ I asked him when he finally sat up, while sheepishly pulling his hand from his pants.

He didn’t answer me, but I didn’t push it.

‘Mum has lunch ready. We better go wash up first though.’

A few minutes later we were in the kitchen and making our own sandwiches from the ingredients laid out on the table, then settling down to eat. There was no mention made of Toby’s dream, though he did remain suspiciously quiet while we ate.

Afterwards, Charlie and I headed back to the bungalow, in search of some paperwork to show my father, with Charlie heading straight for a cupboard in the kitchen when we got there, and opening a door, which creaked as it was opened.

Inside was a stack of unopened mail, sitting on a shelf like something forgotten and hoped away, though being added to with each delivery.

I stared at it as Charlie pulled it from the cupboard and set it down on the kitchen table.

‘Please don’t say anything,’ Charlie said flatly.

‘I wasn’t going to.’

I picked up an envelope anyway and took in the name on the front of the envelope.

Schuster & Gamble. Solicitors. Macquarie Harbour.

‘They’re one of the lot who’ve been calling,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘Leaving messages.’

I took a breath. ‘So obviously there’s something serious they need to discuss.’

‘Yeah, but whatever it is, it wasn’t something I felt I could deal with.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll show these to dad and he’ll call them. He’ll probably make an appointment, then we’ll all go together.’

Charlie nodded, eyes shiny.

‘Do you know anything at all about your mum’s will?’ I asked.

He shook his head.

‘Okay then, let’s head back to my folks place and let dad take a look and figure it out.’

My father was surprised when Charlie produced his bundle of envelopes, all held together by a thick rubber band, but said nothing. We followed him into his office and watched as he sat down at his desk and peeled off the rubber band.

‘The ones on top are the most recent ones,’ Charlie offered.

‘Well, let’s see what they will tell us,’ dad replied as he picked up the most recent letter from Schuster & Gamble and slit it open, then removed the contents.

After reading it through, he set the letter aside, without so much as glancing at us, then picked up another, only this one was from the local banking institution, a smaller regional bank that was the main one servicing our area.

He opened that and quickly read through the covering letter, then looked over a statement that was attached, raising his eyebrows slightly as he did so, but saying nothing for a few moments.

‘Well?’ I asked him. ‘Can you help out?’

‘I’ll make some calls first thing in the morning and set up an appointment as soon as possible. I know someone at the firm and will have a chat with them for you. I think everything will be fine, Charlie, but let’s see what the solicitors say when we go see them.’

The lawyers’ office was smaller than I expected. Beige carpet. Framed certificates. A faint smell of old, leather-bound law books and coffee.

It was the following day and my father now sat in a plush leather chair in the office of the solicitor he knew, Roger Patten, while Charlie sat beside me, knuckles white where his hands were clasped together.

The solicitor spoke gently, methodically, laying it all out piece by piece.

They had been trying to reach Charlie so they could read the will and set the ball in motion to finalise the estate. It didn’t take very long to go over the details, and as my father had said, there really wasn’t anything to worry about.

Everything was left to Charlie.

The house. The mortgage. The bank accounts. The life insurance.

There was enough to clear all debts. And enough to leave a little safety net for Charlie.

Charlie broke down quietly, his shoulders shaking as the weight of it hit him – not the money, but the care behind it. The years of sacrifice. The silent planning to ensure that her son wouldn’t be left to fend for himself entirely.

As he cried softly, I held him right there, in that neat, quiet office, while my father and the solicitor left the room.

Seeing Matt, at the service station, was the next step in Charlie’s reinvention of himself, and that didn’t prove any easier than the first step.

As I waited in the car, I watched Charlie as he stood outside the petrol station for a full minute before stepping close enough for the automatic doors to open. I watched as Charlie walked up to the counter where Matt was working, and spoke to him for a few minutes.

I’d seen Matt around town often enough as I was growing up, and always found myself admiring him, from a distance, of course. He was the manager of both the service station and a local auto parts store, which was owned by a local businessman who was nearing retirement age, and could often be seen on the service counters in both businesses. Rumour had it that he lived with some other guys just out of town, ever since they had all moved here a number of years ago. Rumour also had it that they were all gay, but that was all I knew.

I could see that Matt was listening to what Charlie had to say, and I could see him talking – most likely asking questions – and eventually there were nods and smiles and a shake of hands, before Charlie came back out to the car. I watched Matt staring after him as Charlie walked my way, his expression difficult to read.

‘How did you go?’ I asked, as he settled back behind the wheel.

‘He asked questions. Said he’d see what he could do,’ Charlie replied. That was a start at least.

It would be three days later when the phone would ring and Charlie would have his answer. Someone had left town and Charlie could have his job back. With conditions, of course.

‘So, all good, provided you keep your nose clean and don’t fuck up?’ I gently teased him.

He looked sharply at me, but then his expression softened, when he realised I wasn’t being critical of him.

‘Yeah, no chance of that,’ Charlie said firmly. ‘I’ve got something to live for now.’

My turn came next, the same day that Charlie had spoken with Matt. He wasn’t the only one who needed to do something about work.

At Midnight Mass I had promised Father Costas I would pay him a visit to look at his computer, and so I called around to see him and keep that promise, even if it was a day or two late, what, with everything else that had come up. He greeted me warmly when I knocked on the door of the parish centre, before leading me into an office that was cluttered with books, cables, and an ancient desktop computer that wheezed like it had asthma.

I talked with Father as I rebooted the machine and started looking around the system, cleaned out cache folders, deleted junk, updated the antivirus, downloaded some anti-malware software and ran that, before rebooting again.

It took longer than I thought it might, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed chatting about a good many things. About work. About love. About staying when it’s easier to run. I even received a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits for my trouble.

He knew about Charlie and me. He was quietly and unwaveringly supportive. That was something of a surprise, but then I remembered his words from Midnight Mass, something about there being no judgement here and God judging only those who sin.

Over our cup of tea, while a fresh scan was running on his computer, Father asked me about my plans for work, which, to be perfectly honest I hadn’t given a lot of thought to of late.

‘I’m really not sure, Father. I was thinking about seeing what might be happening in Macquarie Harbour . . . maybe there might be something on offer at the university, or one of the local government offices . . . but if nothing comes of that I’m not sure what I’ll do.’

‘Well, you obviously know your way around these things,’ he offered, as he gave the box on his desk a gentle pat. ‘Maybe you should consider putting up some flyers around town,’ he suggested. ‘Here at the parish centre. Try the tourist office. And there are a few other places around town with bulletin boards, like the superette and the petrol station. There doesn’t seem to be anybody around here that can help out when these contraptions decide to go on the blink, so perhaps there’s an opening for a guy like you.’

‘That sounds like a great idea, Father. Thank you. I’ll make one up and get some printed off. Is there a place around town that does photocopying?’

‘Oh, you can do it here and print some off if you like’ he smiled. ‘Always happy to lend my old altar boys a helping hand.’

‘Thank you. I really appreciate that,’ I replied.

Father had offered me some cash for my services, but there was no way I could take anything from him.

‘Consider it a fair trade,’ I said to him, before shaking his hand and setting off on my mission to distribute them, an hour later, while carrying a handful of coloured flyers.

Having computer issues?

Viruses slowing you down?

Need PC help?

Call Kieran on 0415 555 555

The comical cartoon character with steam coming out his ears while sitting at a computer was Father’s suggestion.

I had no idea if I would get any work from them, but it was worth a shot. I was still planning to check out Macquarie Harbour though, as a permanent job was still my best option, assuming I could find one.

When I made it back to Charlie’s place – which was a place I found I still couldn’t quite call home just yet – I found Charlie in his mother’s bedroom, just sitting on the bed, the doors to her wardrobe and the drawers of her dressing table open. He looked up at me with a sad expression on his face, and I could tell that he was struggling with something, so I went to him immediately, sitting down beside him and taking one of his hands in mine.

‘What’s happened?’ I asked, showing as much concern as I could muster.

‘I just . . . I got to thinking . . . about mum, about this place, about what comes next,’ he replied.

‘So . . . what’s with all this then?’ I asked, as gently as I could, while motioning towards the open doors and drawers.

‘I . . . I was just trying to decide if it was time I cleaned it all out. Maybe send her clothes to Saint Vinnies for starters.’

‘You don’t have to rush into doing anything,’ I suggested.

‘Then, I found these . . .’ he added, while picking up what appeared to be a small notepad, along with an envelope, which he handed to me. ‘They were in the bottom drawer of her dressing table.’

When I looked more closely at what they were, the notepad proved to actually be a diary, but the envelope proved to be a surprise. It contained cash. Quite a bit of cash, as a matter of fact.

‘There’s over seven hundred dollars there. I had no idea she had that stashed away.’

‘Something for a rainy day?’ I suggested. ‘I will always remember Clare fondly, Charlie. She was only ever kind to me, but she must have been a very strong woman. An amazing woman, actually, who only ever wanted what was best for you. She must have sacrificed quite a lot so that you didn’t go without.’

‘I know. That’s why I kind of feel guilty about moving on like . . . like this . . .’

‘Don’t!’ I said. ‘She will always be right where it matters. Here, and here,’ I added, while touching his chest, directly over his heart, and then the side of his head as well. ‘Even if you decide to clean out all of this stuff, you’ll still have the memories. These clothes can be of good use for somebody, if that’s what you want, and I’m sure that there will be other belongings that you will want to hang onto, as mementos, so your mum will always still be around. Always.’

‘I know. I think it’s probably time to start thinking about me . . . about us . . . but I’ll sleep on it a while first though.’

‘That sounds like a plan, babe. No need to rush into anything.’

‘Yeah.’

I handed him back the diary and envelope, and he took another look at the money.

‘What are you going to do with that?’ I asked.

‘Well, we are still planning on going to Sydney in a few days, aren’t we? It might come in handy, though I do want to keep some of it for later.’

‘Whatever you want, babe. I had better give Kevin and Pippa a call tonight so we can finalise our plans, though. And I had better call my flatmate as well, to see if they’ll be around . . . otherwise we might have to find some place else to stay, because the flat would only fit so many people.’

‘After dinner, then?’ he suggested.

‘Yeah, that’ll do. But in the mean time, how about I show you what I got up to today with Father Costas?’

‘Are you sure you want to share that with me?’ he asked, with a smirk.

‘Not that! You doofus! This . . .’ I said, as I handed him one of my flyers. ‘He suggested I hire myself out fixing computers, as he doesn’t think there’s anyone local who does this.’

‘Well, I guess it’s better than renting yourself out for other things!’

‘Maybe, even if it doesn’t pay as well,’ I replied. ‘I put some up around town today . . . even on the noticeboard at the service station . . . so it’ll be interesting to see if I get any response.’

‘Here’s hoping then! At least one of us is going to need a regular income!’

New Year’s Eve was only three days away now, so I called Kevin that night to make sure we were still on.

‘That sounds like a plan to me. Give me a couple minutes to check it’s all good with the old man, make sure we’re okay to use the wagon and trailer, then I’ll call you back.’

‘Sure thing. I’ll call my flatmate and make sure I can get my stuff, and see if it’s okay for us all to stay there. Talk to you soon,’ I replied.

Charlie was looking at me with his eyebrows raised when I hung up.

‘He’s checking it’s all still okay with Uncle Leo,’ I said. ‘And while he’s doing that, I’m going to call my flatmate, Lee, to see if the coast is clear for New Year’s Eve.’

Half an hour later Kevin had the vehicle organised, while I had my old flat organised, as Lee would still be away, so we were all set. The best news was, we wouldn’t be very far from some vantage points in Balmain where we would be able to see at least a part of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the New Year’s Eve fireworks.

We decided to travel down early on the thirtieth, so that we would be there a day early, giving us a chance to get ourselves organised a day early, then take in the sights and the New Year’s celebrations, before packing up and coming home afterwards.

By the next morning, Pippa had discovered that our cousin, Patrick – a.k.a. Trinity de la Crème – would be performing at the Imperial Hotel the night we arrived and so now we knew exactly what we would be doing after we arrived in Sydney and got settled in. That would leave New Year’s Eve for sightseeing and celebrating, before packing up and heading home on January 1st.

Too easy! Or so we figured.

To be continued . . .