The Unspoken

by Don Zelma

Chapter Twenty-two

  The following evening Dan Amos was in his office but did not turn on the light. He was now feeling the full weight that these were his last days as a counsellor. The air was hot and heavy. He reached out for the electric fan and the blades began to move. His fingers slowly took his resignation letter from the pigeon-hole and knew soon he would have to sign it and make his departure official.

  Suddenly, the phone rang and it was loud in the silence. He felt the handset vibrating under his hand and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Hello? Reverend Amos?’ said a voice.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name’s Reverend Van Sants.’

  ‘Oh, hello…’ Dan said. He couldn’t hear the voice over the noise and reached out to turn off the fan.

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear about your plans to leave,’ Van Sants said. ‘I’ve been contacted by your board and will be making a visit next month. Naturally, I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘I can’t seem to locate my diary,’ Dan said, patting his desk in the dark. ‘When are you coming?’ he asked. The reverend told him. Dan pulled the pad into the streetlight and began writing.

  ‘What’s the weather like up there?’ said Van Sants. ‘I adore the tropics.’

  ‘Then, you’ll like it very much,’ Dan said. ‘Sometimes, it gets awfully humid and I am sweating very much.’

  ‘I see,’ said Van Sants. ‘I’m sure it will be fine.’

  Dan paused. ‘You sound young, Reverend.’

  ‘Oh…’ Van Sants chuckled. ‘I’ve just graduated from theological college.’

  Dan hesitated – the man lacked experience. ‘Well, you couldn’t wish for a better start.’

  ‘Oh, I’m very pleased,’ he said. ‘It will be the perfect posting.’ Van Sants continued talking but Dan began to drift away. Did this graduate know Dan was once like him, with the fire in his belly and full of hope for the future? Had Van Sants ever lost a son?

  ‘Reverend?’ Van Sants said. ‘Reverend? Will that be OK?’

  Dan cleared his throat. ‘Yes…’ he said, ‘of course.’

  ‘Then, it’s settled,’ he said. ‘I look forward to meeting you.’

  ‘And me, you,’ Dan said.

  ‘I will call again as the time approaches.’

  ‘That will be fine, Reverend,’ Dan said. ‘Good night.’

  ‘Good night,’ said Van Sants and he rang off.

  Outside the office a streetlamp blinked, produced a sudden flash then went out. The room went pitch black. Above, the usual sound of Ruth’s heals were heard knocking along the hallway towards the bedroom. Dan glanced at the fluorescent hands of his wristwatch – soon it would be midnight.

  Mini’s paws tapped quietly towards him and he reached down and found her head.

  ‘It’s OK, sweetheart,’ he whispered. ‘Everything will be alright.’

  Dan slowly stood, opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the concrete. He began feeling his way between the posts and the sound of Mini’s paws started pattering on ahead of him. He walked through the strips of light cast by the slats, heading towards the paling gate. Just then, he heard something outside, beyond the hibiscus. It was a gentle noise, like the light clanking of metal on metal. He pulled up and heard a clear, single chime of a dropped spanner out on the road. He stepped up to the tub window and peered up past the custard apple tree. Through the foliage he could see a vehicle, its bonnet raised and a man over the engine. A weak, battery-powered lamp swayed beside the man’s head. Dan pouted and slowly walked out from under the house. He stood in the yard and Mini trotted passed him and began heading up the steps, bounding up the external staircase like a little white rabbit in the dark. Dan heard another tool chime.

  ‘Hang on, Mini,’ he said. Mini stopped at the top of the stairs and Dan looked up the side of the house. He put his hands in his pockets and sauntered across the lawn. Behind him, Mini scampered down the stairs, overtook him and ran past into the dark towards the front fence. Dan reached the gate, seeking the car through the hibiscus, and lifted the latch. He stepped out onto the footpath, but Mini did not follow and he looked back. ‘Come on,’ he said. But she never ventured outside and consequently stayed rock solid. Dan slowly stepped onto the road. He approached the car, leaning left and right to get a better look at the driver. The figure’s head was over the engine with his black face looking down. Dan cleared his throat and the silhouette looked up.

  ‘Hello,’ Dan said.

  The silhouette moved its head, trying to see beyond the lamp light. ‘G’day,’ he said, void of animation. He held still.

  ‘Do you need a hand?’

  The figure glanced down at the engine. ‘Ah, no thanks, mate,’ he said. His large, almost over-sized hand, reached out into the pool of light. What an extraordinary coincidence, Dan thought.

  ‘Joe?’ he said.

  ‘What?’ the figure said.

  ‘Joe Judd?’

  ‘Yeah. Who the hell is that?’

  ‘Dan Amos.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Jay’s father.’

  ‘Oh, sh—t,’ he said. ‘Hey...’

  Dan paused, waiting for Joe to explain his business but, after a brief pause, it was clear it wasn’t coming. ‘A big problem?’ Dan asked.

  Joe turned towards the engine. ‘Na, not really.’ He seemed pretty intent on his problem. He straightened and walked to the driver’s window, reached in and Dan heard his keys jingling. The starter motor kicked over and the large engine rocked violently in the bay but did not start and Joe’s silhouette moved back towards the bonnet.

  ‘You sure I can’t help?’ Dan said. He stepped closer and stopped beside the mudguard. He could see Joe’s face better now.

  ‘Na,’ Joe said, ‘I’ll get it going.’

  Mini barked from the gate and Dan looked back. He waited, wondering what she was afraid of and looked at Joe. It went quiet and remained so for about thirty seconds. Eventually, Joe glanced up and the two locked eyes. He pointed down and said quietly, ‘Hand me that spanner, will ya, Mr. Amos?’

  Dan saw a tool tray on a mat on the mudguard. A large ring spanner lay on the lid. ‘This one?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, that’s him.’

  He handed it across and the big hand took it. Joe leaned into the engine bay and began tightening something and Dan put his hands in his pockets.

  ‘So, how are ya going, Mr. Amos?’ Joe asked, tinkering. ‘You OK?’

  Dan hesitated – something sure wasn’t right. ‘Sure… Joe, thanks,’ he said. ‘What are you doing around here?’

  ‘Oh, I pass by sometimes. I got friends in the neighbourhood.’

  ‘Really?’

  Joe reached down and started playing with something in the bay. Twenty seconds passed. ‘Pretty warm night, isn’t it?’ he said.

  Dan took a hand from his pocket and scratched his neck. ‘Yeah, sure is.’

  There was a pause and he studied Joe’s face as he worked. ‘How old are you, Joe?’ he asked.

  ‘Me? I just turned thirty-five.’ He reached down in front of the engine. ‘Couldn’t point the light this way, could ya, Mr. Amos?’

  Dan reached up for the tube light and directed the beam towards Joe’s hands. After a moment, Dan realised he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  ‘Not married?’

  ‘No. God, no,’ he said, reaching out for a spanner.

  Dan watched his movements carefully, holding the light. There was a story behind all of this but he couldn’t, for the life of him, work it out. ‘You kids are different from when we were young,’ he said. ‘I was married at twenty-two.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Joe said. His head went down and he tightened a bolt. ‘Well, you know, it’s easier these days. We have more options. We don’t have to worry about the heavy stuff.’

  ‘I see,’ Dan said. Joe’s arm dug deep into the engine and Dan moved the light so he could see.

  ‘I guess, you and I are pretty different ah, Mr. Amos?’ Joe said, work
ing intently on the engine.

  ‘I guess,’ Dan said. He hesitated. ‘My boy was very different to me too… in the end.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Joe scratched his forearm and reached further into the engine. The street was quiet. ‘People are funny, aren’t they?’ he said, placing the spanner on top of the engine. ‘Sometimes they just can’t get their heads right, you know. Lot of things don’t make sense.’

  Dan pondered, and thought he got what he meant.

  ‘People are complicated,’ he said.

  Dan’s arm was getting tired holding the light. He swapped hands and put his free hand in his pocket.

  Joe squeezed a radiator hose. ‘Ah, you know…’ he said, resting his hands on the mudguard. ‘Sometimes, it’s just hard to make sense of stuff, you know.’

  Dan slowly moved the beam towards Joe’s face. He saw his forehead was sweating and he stared at him a long time. ‘When I drive past here,’ Joe said, gesturing at the house, ‘I sometimes see you through the shrubs, behind your desk in your office. What do you do there?’

  ‘Downstairs?’ Dan said, straightening. ‘Oh… a lot of things.’

  Joe knelt down in front of the car, glanced under the fender and Dan lost sight of him. He could hear his spanner on the engine block. ‘I plan meetings… I talk to people...’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Joe said, with a muffled voice. There was a long pause.

  ‘This looks like a significant problem,’ Dan said.

  Joe spoke positively. ‘Yeah, but I know my way around engines,’ he said. There was more silence. ‘Being a counsellor,’ he said under the car, ‘and having all those conversations, you must be like a shrink or something, right?’

  Dan waited. ‘Not exactly… Well, sometimes, I guess.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ Joe said. He stood up into the light and reached over the engine. Dan saw sweat coursing down his arm onto his hand, making the spanner in his palm very shiny. ‘Have you ever heard of a person not being able to sleep? You know – having things on their mind?’

  ‘Bingo!’ Dan thought. ‘There it was.’

  He waited, replaying the sentence. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘This happens more than you think.’ He was relived he had finally coughed it up. ‘Is it a woman?’

  Joe shrugged. ‘Could be, I guess.’

  Dan quietly chuckled and Joe looked down, a little embarrassed. ‘Maybe I just got a strong imagination or something,’ he said. ‘I visualise what could be, not really what things are.’

  ‘I see,’ Dan said. ‘But it sounds like a pretty natural reaction to me.’

  Joe wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Really?’

  Dan shrugged. ‘Sure.’

  Joe stood up and pointed. ‘Turn the light towards the tools, will ya, Mr. Amos?’

  Dan did so and Joe went black. He started tapping his fingers on the engine and Dan grew even more curious. Joe walked to the driver’s window and reached in and the engine backfired then ran lumpy but true. ‘Hey, got it,’ he said. He approached the engine and reached out for the tools. ‘Hey, thanks for that, Mr. Amos,’ he said. He disconnected the lamp from the battery and the street went black. He carefully dropped the bonnet and it smothered the sound of the engine. ‘That should so it,’ he said and started for the driver’s door carrying his equipment. But the sudden departure didn’t make sense.

  ‘Hey, Joe,’ Dan said. ‘You can use my tub to wash up, if you like. Jay used it all the time after working on his motorcycle.’

  Joe opened the back passenger door and placed the tools on the seat. ‘Na, thanks, Mr. Amos,’ he said. He stepped to the driver door and slumped in behind the wheel.

  The passenger window was open and Dan stepped up. ‘Hey, Joe,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help.’

  ‘Help with what?’

  Dan smiled and stepped reluctantly back onto the curb. He looked at Joe dimly lit by the dash light, wiping his hands on a rag. He glanced at Dan then his headlights came on. ‘If you see my lamp on from the road,’ Dan said, ‘just walk up to the office and tap on the glass.’

  Dan waved and slowly opened the gate. Behind him, he heard the oily suppressed clunk of Joe’s gearbox and the front tyres crunching the loose gravel on the tarmac. The utility pulled away and Dan watched it head towards the intersection. The headlights swept across the nature strip and the car slowly accelerated away, filling the street with a prolonged heavy growl. Seconds later, the street fell quiet.

  But Dan was excited. He walked down the side of the house and in through the paling gate. He reached out into the dark, feeling his way through the posts, and flicked on the office wall switch. Mini, sensing a new powerful energy, began racing around his feet.

  ‘Honey! Honey!’ Dan called, hoping his voice would penetrate the boards. He reached for the pigeon-hole, took his letter of resignation and crushed it in his hands. He felt alive again, as if given a renewed purpose, realising a miraculous opportunity had appeared to once again find out more about his son.