The Unspoken

by Don Zelma

Chapter Thirty-one

  Dan cut his engine and could hear the sound of the highway through the trees. He opened the car door, stood and felt the cold air on his face.

  ‘Joe!’ he called. ‘Where are you?’ He sunk his hands into his pockets and heard the quiet pulsing of the crickets in the forest.

  ‘Over here,’ Joe said. Dan heard the loud snap of a burning log then saw a flickering orange light between the leaves. A silhouette of a man, seated on a log, seemed to look at him. Dan felt the undergrowth snap under his feet and gradually emerged from the dark, into the orange light.

  Joe calmly reached out with a stick and began prodding the coals. ‘Hey,’ he said quietly.

  Dan felt the warmth of the flames. He slowly reached down, brushed off the log beside Joe and sat. ‘Why did you come all the way up here?’ he asked.

  Joe grimaced. ‘Ah, it’s too god-damn noisy down there,’ he said, waving his hand at the valley.

  Dan looked down and saw an old wooden stadium three hundred metres away in the dark.

  ‘You can still see the track from here,’ Joe said.

  Dan could see a string of twinkling lights moving slowly towards the car park. A distant loudspeaker echoed amongst the hills and he could make out the words pretty clearly.

  ‘Here,’ Joe said. He produced a can of cola and two plastic cups. He unscrewed a small bottle of Bundaberg Rum, began pouring then mixed in the cola. Dan smelt its sweet scent in the air. He stretched his legs out and his trousers pulled up showing his socks. He felt the heat of the fire on his exposed shanks.

  Down on the track a water truck lumbered out of the gate onto the dirt track and began spraying the clay, moistening it for the races.

  Dan glanced at Joe, who had been very quiet. ‘You alright?’ he asked. What had happened between him and Lola was killing him.

  ‘Yeah,’ Joe said positively.

  ‘How are things?’ It was pathetic fishing, but necessary.

  ‘Good.’

  A minute later, bright colours flashed between gaps in the stadium and egg-shaped vehicles with wind foils started driving out onto the track. Dan looked at Joe and watched him as he calmly sipped his drink. He felt, for a moment, a strong bond between them like that of father and son. ‘So, are you going to keep me waiting?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Joe asked. He picked up another stick and started prodding the fire.

  ‘Oh, come on, lad.’

  Joe shrugged and then his face slowly exhibited a beautiful glowing smile. ‘I told her,’ he said. He started nodding, looking at the flames. ‘I mean… it’ll go nowhere, but it doesn’t matter – I told her.’

  Dan sensed his deep, deep satisfaction of having conquered his immense challenge and started to smile himself. ‘So, it seems to me a heavy weight has been lifted from you?’

  Joe smiled. ‘Yeah… I guess,’ he said. He began nodding again. ‘I feel pretty good.’

  Dan looked up at the trees, lightly painted by the campfire. ‘Now, you know what?’ he said. ‘I think you will be able to sleep.’ He looked down at his legs stretched out towards the fire. ‘I’m sure you surprised her. It came from your soul and I am very proud of you. I’m certain no one has ever presented their affections like that.’ He glanced at him. ‘You never know, Joe,’ he said. ‘It may have got her thinking.’

  Joe put his stick down. ‘Who knows?’ he said. ‘But that’s not the point.’

  Dan looked back at the flames. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘That part doesn’t matter.’

  Down on the track the cars were suddenly very loud and driving at highway speed. They started darting and weaving across the clay, fighting for the lead. Dan reached out behind him and felt for the ground. He gently slipped off the log and laid down on his back, feeling the dried twigs snap under his back. He stared at the Milky Way – he could see it very clearly.

  ‘May I ask you,’ he said, ‘how she reacted?’

  The fire softly crackled. ‘She acted all surprised,’ Joe said. ‘But I think she knew something was coming. But I don’t imagine she realises my weird behaviour was due to her.’

  Dan’s eyes started seeking out the Southern Cross. ‘Joe,’ he said, glancing at him. ‘Was my son ever in love?’

  There was a long stretch of silence and Dan looked back at the night sky. He felt bad that he had perhaps betrayed the moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked that.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Joe said quietly. He reached out with his foot and gently kicked a rock in front of the fire. ‘The truth is – I don’t know.’ He threw his stick into the flames and watched it start to burn. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘But we never told each other things like that. Like me – no one will ever know what I said to Lola. The only person that would know about Jay’s stuff would be Ofelia.’

  ‘Ofelia?’

  He didn’t seem to hear. ‘Most of the time Jay was too busy looking for other things.’

  Dan hesitated. ‘Like what?’ he asked.

  ‘You know… when it came to the ladies he wasn’t looking for anything serious. He wanted to be like us and we weren’t the romantic types.’

  ‘I understand,’ Dan said. He waited. ‘And who was Ofelia?’

  Joe leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘A woman who knew him well. She owned a bar outside of town – she’s still there, I think. She was like a mother to him. We used to hang out there and she knew everyone Jay mixed with.’

  ‘I see.’

  Joe reached down and his fingers sought through the undergrowth. He found a stick and reached out with it towards the coals. ‘But that was a long time ago,’ he said. ‘I’m glad that time has passed,’ he said pensively. ‘Now that I’m older, when I look back I realise that stage was kind of a lonely place.’

  Dan slowly sat up and felt the warmth of the fire on his face. ‘So, what now?’ he said. ‘With Lola, I mean?’

  Joe shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’ll just keep going to work and try to be a gentleman about it and I guess it’ll just remain our secret.’

  Dan looked at the flames and started nodding. ‘That’s a good idea,’ he said. ‘But just be ready, Joe.’ he said. ‘You never know… things may move quickly now.’

  Joe looked at him but didn’t really believe him. ‘I’m ready for anything,’ he said, ‘or for nothing. I love my life and everything will be OK.’

  Dan held still, staring at his friend. Joe waited a moment, then looked at the flames and slowly smiled. He recognised, from his experience, Joe had reached a level of maturity achieved only by very few. Dan had grabbed a snapshot of his content expression and now consciously inventoried it. It was true – Joe did love his life, and his peaceful staring at the fire would forever remain an image of solitude in Dan’s mind.