Traditions (Chapter 7)

Chapter Seven

After seeing off my family, Charlie and I retreated to the relative safety of my old bedroom, while my parents and Toby busied themselves elsewhere in the house; my parents cleaning up in the kitchen, and Toby tackling the delicate process of piecing together one of the model ships he had been given for Christmas.

‘So, what comes next?’ Charlie quietly asked me, as we both sat down on my bed.

‘What comes next? Or who comes next?’ I replied, giving him a smirk as I do so.

‘It’s Christmas. Keep your mind out of the gutter!’

‘That’s not what you said this morning,’ I whispered in reply.

‘Your parents and brother weren’t also in the house then.’

‘Good point,’ I replied.

‘So, like I said, what comes next? Are you going to start packing up some stuff?’

‘Yeah, but I need a minute first,’ I said, as I collapsed back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. ‘It’s been one hell of a day!’

Charlie laid back also, but on his side, and propped up on one elbow while looking at me.

‘What?’ I asked him.

‘Oh, nothing much. Just admiring the view.’

‘You’ll be able to admire more of it once we get back to your place,’ I suggested.

‘All in good time.’

‘And just what is that supposed to mean?’

‘Well, as much as I want to go home and finish what we started this morning, there’s something else I need to do this afternoon, if it’s okay with you?’

I raised my eyebrows at him, inviting him to expand on that.

‘I need to go to the cemetery,’ he said softly.

Instantly I sat up, then dragged him upright and into a hug.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I should have thought of that . . . or at least realised that you would want to do that. Just give me a minute to get my shit together. I’ll be back in a few seconds . . .’

Then, getting to my feet I quickly went down the hallway to the kitchen, thinking that’s where my parents would be, only to find it empty. After hearing a noise coming from the lounge room, I stuck my head through the archway, where I found them both lazing in their favourite recliner chairs.

‘Asleep already?’ I asked.

‘I wish,’ came my father’s reply.

‘Can I borrow a suitcase to pack some clothes in?’ I asked them.

‘Of course, darling,’ my mother answered. ‘You know where they are kept.’

‘Thanks. I’m just going to throw some stuff in one, then we’re going to stop by the cemetery before going back to Charlie’s for a while. I’ll pick up anything else I need later.’

‘Okay then,’ mum replied, barely even raising her exhausted head from the lounge.

A few minutes later, after pulling a suitcase from the top of the linen cupboard in the laundry, I returned to my room, where I found Charlie taking a look at some of the books on my bookshelf, and holding my copy of one of my favourite modern Australian novels, Jasper Jones.

‘Do you read a lot?’ Charlie asked me.

‘Yeah, I do actually,’ I answered, while sitting the suitcase on my bed.

He gave me a nod and placed the book back on its shelf.

‘Mum used to read a lot too,’ he said, somewhat wistfully.

‘Yeah, I saw some of the books at your place,’ I said to him.

‘Mostly trashy romance stuff though.’

‘I don’t mind trashy romance stuff . . . but usually of the gay variety,’ I replied.

‘So, you would have heard of Tony Scott then?’

‘Who hasn’t?’ I answered, before reaching up and pulling a copy of Shifting Sands from the top shelf and showing it to him. ‘Does he still live around here?’

Being the closeted guy I’ve always been, I always had that one sitting backwards on the shelf, with the spine hidden, so nobody would read the title.

‘Yeah, I think so. I’ve seen him with his partner, or husband, or whoever it is around town a few times. The partner has a lawn mowing business.’

‘That kind of rings a bell.’

After I placed the novel back in its right spot, only this time with the spine showing, seeing as I didn’t need to hide anything anymore, I turned to the suitcase once more and flicked open the lid. Next, I reached down under my bed and pulled out the carryall I had travelled home with.

There were some items in there that I needed to show Charlie, but perhaps that could wait until we were back at his house.

‘So, what do you need to bring with you?’ Charlie asked me, as I opened the door of my wardrobe. Almost immediately we were hit by the musty smell of clothes that had been stored in the vicinity of moth balls, or some weird smelling pest deterrent, although it wasn’t very strong. One wash and they would be fine, I thought.

‘I’ll just grab a suitcase full to keep me going,’ I replied.

‘We can make room for whatever you need. The house could probably do with a decent clean out anyway.’

‘Only when you’re ready, and only what you think needs to go, mate. I don’t think I need much space. And it’s your house after all.’

‘Hmmm . . .’ was his rather noncommittal reply.

A few minutes later I had filled the suitcase with enough clothes to last a week, zipped it up and then picked it up off the bed, while Charlie picked up my carryall. I was looking forward to seeing what his reaction might be to what was inside.

‘You ready then?’ I asked him. ‘Let’s go say goodbye to the folks, then take this stuff out to the car.’

‘Okay.’

Toby was in his room, crouched over the model ship on his desk, carefully painting the many individual pieces, before he would eventually glue them together once they had dried.

‘Hey, Tobes. We’re going now. But we’ll be back tonight,’ I said to him, as we stopped at his door.

He looked up at me and frowned slightly. ‘You promise?’

‘Of course, mate. I want to see the Bismarck when it’s finished!’

‘How did you know it’s the Bismarck?’ he asked.

Smiling at him, I picked up the lid of the box that it had come in.

‘It says so here,’ I replied, as I held it up for him, then placed it back down on his desk and ruffled his hair. ‘And besides that, wasn’t it me who gave it to you?’

He just grinned at me in response.

‘Bye, Tobes,’ Charlie added, then after giving a little wave my brother turned his attention back to the job at hand, while we headed for the living room, where we found my parents hadn’t even moved.

‘Wakey, wakey!’ I said to them, as we stopped at the door, probably still basking in their Christmas dinner food coma.

Mum sat up and looked our way.

‘Are you heading off?’ she asked.

‘Yes. But we’ll see you later on, for dinner.’

‘Okay then. Have a nice afternoon.’

‘Thank you.’

Leaving them there we walked out through the front door and closed it behind us, then headed for the car, before tossing my bags onto the back seat. Just before climbing into the car, however, I was struck by a thought.

‘Hey, is there a vase at the cemetery?’ I asked Charlie.

‘Yes. I took one from home up there, seeing as I’ve been taking flowers there every time I visit.’

‘Okay, start the car while I raid mum’s garden. I’m sure that she won’t miss a few.’

Charlie just smiled, then climbed in behind the wheel, before starting the car.

My mother was one of those gardeners who threw herself into it when it suited her. As a result she had a number of garden beds that were often overgrown. Her favourites were dahlias and roses, both of which required a good deal of effort to maintain. Right now though, they were looking a little wild, but there were flowers everywhere.

Going over to the nearest bed of dahlias I picked a handful of bright blooms with long stems, in red and yellow and white, then headed back to the car and climbed in beside Charlie.

‘Take a look in the glovebox,’ he said. ‘There’s probably some tape or something in there you can use to hold them all together.’

Doing as he suggested I soon found a roll of PVC tape and quickly wrapped some around the stems, to hold the bunch of flowers together.

‘Okay, let’s roll,’ I said to Charlie, then he pulled out onto the road. ‘How about we go there first, then we can head home afterwards and have the rest of the afternoon to ourselves?’

‘Fine by me,’ he replied.

Thompsonville has two cemeteries. The oldest, which is known as the Pioneer Cemetery and is no longer used, is located on the southern side of the point upon which stands the current hospital. Originally the hospital was the homestead for the founding family but was eventually bequeathed to the township and subsequently turned into the hospital.

The second cemetery, which was established shortly before the second world war, is located a little way out of town, just past the town boundary along Three Bridges Road. Here, on a low hill that overlooks a bend in a tree-lined creek, and behind a plain wire fence, is the final resting place for the remainder of our township’s citizens.

To be honest, I couldn’t ever recall having even visited the place, so I was feeling somewhat curious, and perhaps a little nervous, as we nosed into the gravel parking area along the road. We were parked just outside the wrought iron gates, which were mounted to brick pillars on either side.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been here,’ I said to Charlie as we sat there looking through the fence at a row of mostly white, wooden crosses, with a few concrete headstones, or angelic figures interspersed amongst them.

Outside the car the hot summer sun was beating down on gravel paths, while tall, dry summer grasses seemed to be growing from every crack, taking up every spare space available. The whole cemetery looked rather unkept, yet it still had a certain country charm about it, I thought, which was almost immediately echoed by the plaintive cry of a crow, from a gum tree somewhere close by.

There were a few other cars parked along the road, but there was no sign of anyone nearby.

‘It’s a fairly quiet place,’ Charlie replied, as our hands met between the front seats. ‘I try to come out every week for a little bit and I just sit and think about stuff. Besides being still close to mum, it’s nice and quiet and good for that.’

‘Where is . . .’ I started to say, as I gently squeezed his hand.

‘Down the back,’ he replied. ‘Come on, how about we go for a walk?’

After getting out of the car and joining hands once more, we walked through the open gateway and down a gravel road that ran through the middle of the graveyard. Paths led off to the left and right, between rows of crosses and monuments. It was peaceful down here, but it wasn’t long before we spotted a few other people visiting their loved ones, receiving a few nods and smiles as we went. Nobody seemed to be worried by the fact that we were two guys holding hands, and that certainly helped to put my mind at rest.

At the end of the road we were following, I could see there were several small buildings, with one being a small, white, timber chapel, with a steep roof and a steel cross mounted to the peak at the front of the building. There was also a covered entrance at the front of the chapel, which mirrored the style of the roof. Off to one side there was another building which, once we got closer, I could see was actually two buildings; being a toilet block and a workman’s shed. Then behind all that, in a semicircle, there were tall trees which I knew edged the creek that ran behind the graveyard.

Before we reached the buildings, however, Charlie dragged me down one of the gravel paths, where I figured his mother’s resting place would be found.

After passing about a dozen graves in this row, we stopped at the third last grave, which was about halfway along the unfilled row. Looking at the simple wooden cross, painted white, I could see the name Claire Holley, painted in neat black letters, along with her birth date and the date upon which she had passed away.

There was a simple wooden border outlining the grave, also painted white, while within that border were white gravel stones, through which some straggly weeds with small yellow flowers were struggling to grow and survive.

Charlie reached out and took the flowers from me, then knelt down beside the grave and pulled some withered stems from the tarnished brass vase that was sitting at the base of the wooden cross. Tossing them aside he then inserted the fresh flowers into the vase. Their stems seemed to be a little too long, however, so he broke off about ten centimetres from each stem, then reinserted the bunch. This time they looked better, somehow like a much fuller bunch and less likely to topple over.

As he was doing this, I knelt beside him and started pulling some of the weeds from the white gravel stones, with Charlie also helping once he had finished sorting the flowers. We worked in silence for a few minutes, until the grave had been cleared of weeds and other debris, such as leaves that had blown over it, then we both sat back on our haunches.

‘Hey, mum,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘Merry Christmas. I’m so sorry you’re not here to see it.’

Now it was my turn to reach for his hand. He glanced up at me and smiled.

‘You remember Kieran, don’t you?’ he continued. ‘He’s come home . . . and he’s staying with me. He’s looking after me, but I think you might already know that.

‘I spent Christmas with Kieran’s family, and it’s been a strange day . . . but a really good one. They know about us now. I thought there might be trouble, but they were all so cool about us. I hope that you would have been cool about us too . . . I’ve always wanted to tell you how I felt about him . . . but I could never bring myself to do it. His mum said you might have already known though. Did you? Maybe you can figure out a way to tell me if you did, or not . . .’

It was just at that moment when I heard the flutter of wings pass over us and I looked up to see a kookaburra pass by, before landing on a branch in a nearby tree and looking down at us.

Nudging Charlie with my elbow, I nodded towards the bird when he glanced my way.

For a few moments we studied each other, but then the bird cocked its head back and started a low, rolling "oo-oo-oo" sound, which soon escalated to a more rapid "oo-oo-oo-oo-oo", before finally reaching a crescendo with their familiar, "ka-ka-ka-ka-ka" laugh, which seemed to echo around us long after the bird had finished.

Charlie and I were both stunned as we looked up at the bird, but then, in an instant it was gone.

‘Do you think you just got your answer?’ I said to Charlie, breaking the silence that had quickly descended.

He simply laughed, then leaned his shoulder against mine.

‘I guess we’ll never know . . . but it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied, before placing an arm around his shoulders.

We spent about half an hour more at the cemetery, just sitting and talking and taking in the quiet. I could see why he said he sometimes came here and just sat and visited his mum and enjoyed the peace and quiet.

Eventually it was time to move though, so we got to our feet and started back towards the front gate and the car. Charlie picked up the old stems that he had pulled from the vase and brought them with us, dropping them in a garbage bin as we went.

There were still a few hours of daylight left when we reached Charlie’s place, but I don’t think either of us were feeling like doing much. I grabbed the bags from the back seat, with Charlie soon taking the carryall from me, then we headed inside.

‘Do you want a drink or anything?’ he asked, once he had dropped my carryall on his bed. I placed the suitcase down beside it.

‘Yeah, that might be a good idea,’ I replied.

‘And after that?’

‘I’m not sure about you, but I wouldn’t mind a good old-fashioned nanna nap. It’s been quite a full-on kind of day.’

‘You’re telling me!’ he said with a laugh. ‘Let’s grab something from the fridge and then crash for a while. We’ll need to find room for your stuff as well . . . but that, and anything else we want to do, can all wait for later.’

‘Anything else?’ I enquired, while cocking an eyebrow slightly.

‘I think you know what I mean’ he replied, before opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a bottle of Cola, while I grabbed two glasses from the cupboard.

A few minutes later, after finishing off our drinks, we were heading for Charlie’s bedroom, where Charlie pulled the blinds closed then stripped down to his underwear.

I couldn’t help but smile at him as I did the same.

‘Don’t go getting any ideas,’ he said firmly. ‘Like I said, that’ll be for later.’

‘It’ll be worth waiting for,’ I promised him, as I lay down behind him and snuggled in close, draping an arm over him and holding him tight, our bodies seemingly melding into one, from head to toe.

‘I know,’ Charlie said quietly.

Feeling his body rising and falling in my arms, as he breathed in and out, had a soothing effect and that feeling of almost being on the verge of nodding off was soon starting to settle over us. It felt as if all was finally coming good with the world and that we had come to that place where we had always been destined to be.

We both knew that there would still be challenges ahead of us, and that life wasn’t ever going to be as easy as it might be in our dreams, but we were heading in the right direction. And we were together.

After a little while I heard Charlie whisper, ‘Thank you for today. You’ll never know how much every part of today meant to me.’

‘You’re more than welcome, babe,’ I replied. ‘It also meant just as much to me.’

To be continued . . .