Chapter Twenty-nine
Dan knelt and lit his kerosene heater. Outside, it had begun to rain and the wind was whistling in through the louvers. Drops began hitting the glass in the lamplight and Mini scampered into her basket. She glanced at Dan, as if asking if he might want to join her in the safety of her corner.
Mini looked at the window and growled at something and Dan followed her glare towards the glass. He squinted and focused beyond the panes into the front yard, and thought he could see a man standing in the downpour. He reached out, gently opened the louvers and the office went loud with rain. Cold water pecked his face and he saw the man, wearing an oilskin jacket with a hood over his head.
‘Your light was on,’ the man said over the noise. He talked casually like an invited guest.
‘Joe?’ Dan said. It had been a few weeks and he had thought he had lost him.
‘Sorry,’ Joe said, looking at his watch. ‘I know it’s almost midnight.’
‘Not at all,’ Dan said, pointing back at his door. ‘Come in around the back.’ He turned, opened the door, and stepped out into the cold. He arrived at the paling gate under the porch light. The storm was shaking the hibiscus and he heard heavy feet sloshing down the side of the house. Joe pulled up just outside the reach of the light and Dan saw his piteous eyes peering out from under his hood. He thought of Jay and his heart began to yearn. He walked out into the rain and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Joe walked in under the house. His wet, oilskin drovers coat slapped around his knees and his leather boots were black with rain. Mini watched from the office, standing in the lamplight, then turned and scurried into her basket. The men stepped into the office and Joe pulled his hood back. He was wearing a baseball cap underneath and his face was very pale.
Dan slid the door closed and the room went quiet. ‘Hey, are you OK?’ he asked.
‘Hey, Danny,’ Joe said.
‘What are you doing here?’
Joe shrugged. ‘Not much… How’s it going?’ he asked casually.
Dan hesitated. ‘I’m OK.’
Joe glanced around the room. ‘I won’t be staying long,’ he said.
‘Sure... sure,’ Dan said. ‘Whatever you want.’ He gestured at the heater. ‘Warm yourself in front of the flame.’
Joe knelt, rubbing his hands together and seemed OK. He removed his baseball cap and, in the red light of the heater, started bending the peak. It was clear he was pretty uncomfortable.
‘How about a coffee?’ Dan said.
Joe stood. ‘Sure.’
Dan switched on the kettle beside the typewriter. ‘Give me your jacket.’
Joe handed it to him, heavy as a soaked blanket, and Dan hung it on the hook. Joe stuck his thumbs into the pockets of his work trousers, waited a second, then pulled them out. He rested his hands on the back of the typewriter chair and water started trickling down his arms.
‘Are you sure you’re OK, Joe?’ Dan asked, walking back to the desk.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit weird being here.’
Dan nodded. ‘I understand.’ He waited then gestured at the chair. ‘Take a seat.’
Joe slowly sat and put his cap on his lap. He looked around and up at the photographs on the wall. Dan looked back for his own chair and sat down. Joe said nothing for almost a minute and Dan took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his reading glasses.
‘So,’ Dan said, ‘How’s work?’
Joe shrugged. ‘Great,’ he said.
‘Your car working OK?’
Joe leaned back and smiled slightly. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘It’s OK.’ Joe looked to his side and warily surveyed the room like a child in a dentist surgery. The kettle whistled and Dan stood and made coffee and reached out with the mug and Joe eagerly took it. Dan sat and picked up his glasses. He was very happy Joe had appeared.
‘I’ve been walking around for hours,’ Joe said. He looked down at the floor. ‘I cut through town till I hit the cane then headed south through the suburbs and stopped at the river. I saw your house on the hill through the leaves.’ He stopped as if concerned he was relinquishing too much too early. ‘It’s hard to admit it, but I really have nowhere else to go.’ He raised his mug and sipped. His giant hands were white and seemed to be trembling ever so slightly.
‘I understand,’ Dan said. He put his glasses down on his desk. ‘My son was like that – walking around a lot, I mean.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said. He looked into the cup. ‘I wouldn’t be here unless… things were getting strange – a bit stupid, really.’
Dan slipped a hand into his cardigan and there was a long pause. The grandfather clock knocked steadily beside them and Joe put his mug on the typewriter table.
‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ he said. He rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at his hands. ‘How some things can get under your skin.’
‘I guess,’ Dan said.
‘You know she came from bl—dy nowhere... and to be frank I just got no idea what to do.’
Dan quietly exhaled through his nostrils.
Joe picked up his mug and slurped his coffee. He swallowed and cleared his throat. ‘I guess you know my car breaking down out front was bullsh—t?’
Dan shrugged.
‘And things have got worse since then.’
Dan looked to his side and picked up his glasses from the desk. Joe was talking, but still seemed to be censoring himself.
‘Who is she, Joe?’ he asked.
Joe reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. He whispered, as if to himself, ‘Chr—t, this is a little embarrassing.’ He took a big breath and spoke looking at the window. ‘It hurts when I’m not with her,’ he said. ‘I mean – right in my stomach. When I leave work, seriously – I start feeling sick. I haven’t been eating.’ He appeared exhausted. Dan watched him look up – right up – at the ceiling, like a runner crossing the finishing line. ‘I was once a player,’ he said. ‘And I liked it that way. But now I’ve found a person and she’s just levelled me.’ He looked down and began picking at a callus on his palm. ‘She’s so lovely, Mr. Amos. But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a clue I exist – not like that.’ He looked down and gently kicked his boots together. He picked up his hat and started bending the peak. ‘And here I am,’ he said, ‘with no choice but to talk to some stranger about it.’
‘It’s OK,’ Dan said. ‘I am very glad you came.’
Joe slowly shook his head. ‘So what do you think, Mr. Amos? I’m f—king barking, right? Sorry about the swearing.’
‘No, it’s fine. And, no – you’re not crazy.’
Dan picked up his glasses and chuckled quietly to himself. ‘All I can say is,’ he said, ‘during my years of talking secretly I have discovered something in people – you hide things behind your smiles and your jokes and there’s an ever-present fight in you.’
Joe remained quiet.
‘Why do you feel there’s a problem?’ he said. ‘What are you afraid of?’
Joe glanced up. Perhaps he thought it a stupid question. ‘If she were to know the true extent of my need, and if I was to present myself openly without the tact, without making myself inaccessible, she would run a 1000 miles before I could say Jack Robinson. Make no mistake, no matter what romance novels might say, the advice of trusted female friends is that any premature move is fatal. One phone call too many, once unnecessary suggestion to meet.’ He reached down and scratched his knee. ‘I guess, I don’t wanna give to get humiliated,’ he murmured.
‘To give too much?’ Dan said. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. ‘You need to give and expect nothing in return, Joe,’ he said. ‘Don’t you understand? Accept this and let go.’
Joe winced, like he hadn’t heard correctly. It didn’t make sense. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.
‘Give in,’ Dan said. ‘Just tell her everything.’
Joe guffawed. He leaned back and blinked. He hadn’t expected that.
Dan watche
d a liveliness appear in his eyes. ‘I wish your fighting would end,’ Dan said. ‘That’s my advice – stop your ridiculous fighting.’
Joe waited a little longer. He looked down and picked at his cap.
‘Remember, Joe, real love is unconditional. It doesn’t matter how she responds. Just express yourself graciously and walk away. Then, you will be at peace with yourself and be able to sleep. I promise you.’
Joe shook his head. He glanced up, stared at Dan and almost smiled. He looked down and stared at his boots.
‘You’re a fascinating man, Mr. Amos,’ he said. He glanced at his watch. ‘Like I told you – I can’t really stay for long.’
‘That’s OK,’ Dan said.
‘I guess I better get going.’
‘Of course,’ Dan said. ‘Whenever my light is on,’ he said. ‘I am here.’
Joe slowly nodded. ‘I know,’ he said.
It was a quick exit, but Dan understood that sometimes that’s all people wanted – to just talk. Joe stood and reached out and shook his hand then took his jacket from the hook. He seemed distracted; as if the gears in his head were turning. Dan felt satisfied as he walked away. He loved his life as a counsellor.
Outside, the rain had reduced to a drizzle and he heard Joe’s footsteps moving up the side of the house. There was silence then he heard a sudden splash of Joe’s feet and guessed he had jumped the rusty gate.