The Unspoken

by Don Zelma

Chapter Thirty-nine

  Dan stepped under the dim light of the front door and entered the dark room. He had felt anxious ever since Joe had mentioned Ofelia and now he was in her bar. The room was empty and almost immediately he noticed a woman, seated in a far corner, smoking a cigarette and staring at him. She was about fifty with curly black hair and a slim attractive face. He wandered coyly across the room, glanced at her and stopped at the bar. There was no one serving. Three men, seated at a nearby table, looked up. He glanced back at the corner and the woman was gone. Footsteps approached, her figure appeared from a dark part of the room and stepped in behind the bar. She put an empty glass into a tray, glanced at him and continued working. Finally, she leaned forward on her elbows and stared menacingly.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘And what do you want?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  She pointed a lazy finger at his collared shirt. ‘Maybe you’re looking for that restaurant around the corner?’

  ‘No,’ he said, glancing back at the room. ‘I think this is the place.’

  The group at the table regarded him again. ‘My son use to come here.’

  The woman pushed off her elbows and straightened. ‘Your son?’ she said, void of animation. She pulled at a towel dangling from her back jean pocket and began wiping the bar.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘His name was Jay Amos.’

  ‘Jay?’ she said. She pouted and slowly shook her head. ‘The name doesn’t ring a bell.’

  ‘He was friends with Ned and Joe.’

  She glanced up at him, still wiping. ‘I see…’ she said. She waited before responding. ‘I remember, now,’ she said, nodding. ‘That was some time ago.’ She smiled momentarily, thinking back. ‘Jay – the boys used to call him The Apprentice. Good-looking kid: a bit wet behind the ears.’ She changed hands and kept wiping. ‘Had a strict upbringing.’ He listened to the soft sound of the towel on the smooth lacquered worktop. ‘It was a tragedy what happened,’ she said and stopped wiping. ‘Death takes the good and bad alike. There ain’t no system to it.’ She put the towel back into her pocket. ‘So, you’ve come for a little chat, have ya?’

  He grimaced slightly. ‘You think I’ve come to talk?’

  She guffawed.

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘Lucky guess,’ she muttered, resting her hands on the counter. ‘We’ve never met, but I think I already know you.’ She nodded at the far table where she had been. ‘Go over and take a seat,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring you over a drink.’

  He turned and slowly started walking. As with the visits to Ned’s and Joe’s, he now experienced a strong surge of doubt. He crossed the wooden floor, entered the dark and glanced back at the bar. When he sat at the table the fabric in the seat seemed damp, probably from split drinks and the room stank of cigarettes. There was a small Catholic Mary on the window sill beside him.

  The woman approached carrying two glasses of beer and placed them abruptly on the table. ‘This is my little corner,’ she said. She pulled the towel from her pocket and placed it over the back of her chair. ‘So you’re his father?’ she said. She put her hands on her hips. ‘Huh, how about that? You look different to how I imagined. Can’t say I ever thought you’d turn up here.’

  ‘Joe told me about you.’

  ‘Joe?’ she said. ‘I see.’ She dried her hand on her jean thigh and reached out. ‘The name’s Ofelia.’

  He rose briefly from his chair. ‘Daniel,’ he said.

  She slid along the bench seat towards the wall and he could barely see her face in the dark.

  ‘I like this seat,’ she said, glancing at the room. ‘I can see everyone that comes and goes.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said.

  ‘Do you know where you are?’

  He glanced at the bar. ‘Sure. It’s the Ottoman club.’

  She picked up her drink. ‘You know there’s nothing to be found here, Daniel, don’t you?’ she said, ‘whatever it is you’re searching for.’

  ‘You’re assuming a lot,’

  Ofelia chuckled and looked down at her drink. ‘I’ve seen all types come in here, Daniel,’ she said. She pushed his glass towards him and gestured at it, but he wasn’t ready to drink. ‘So, what do you need to know?’ she said, sipping her drink.

  ‘Well, I guess I’m trying to understand a few things…’ He reached up and scratched his neck. ‘Like, you know, what you think was happening in my son’s head before the accident.’

  ‘Happening to him?’ She winced and put her drink down. ‘Nothing. He was fine.’ She leaned back in her seat. ‘That’s an odd question.’

  Dan looked down and prodded his glass with his finger. ‘I suspect his passing may have been by his own hand.’

  Ofelia went quiet and he saw her wince. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, leaning forward on her elbows. ‘What? Do you think he rode into that tree on purpose?’

  He was silent and eventually she giggled.

  ‘You’re a weird one, alright.’

  ‘I’m a counsellor and have seen many troubled people. I know what they can do.’

  She leaned back. ‘There’s a million reasons why a person might do something like that, Daniel. But, that wasn’t your boy.’

  ‘You think I’ve misunderstood him?’

  ‘I think you’ve misunderstood everything; you’ve invented something in your head.’ She reached out for her drink. ‘He was a smart kid.’ She raised her glass and spoke across the rim. ‘It’s true he was a little confused, but he was OK. He came here a lot and I knew him pretty well.’ She sipped then glanced down at his glass, irritated he wasn’t drinking. ‘You gonna drink that?’

  Dan slowly took hold of his beer. He raised it then smelt the usual hop scent that he normally associated with Ned, drunks and trouble. He took a nip and felt Ofelia staring at him.

  ‘Got a wife?’

  He put the drink down. ‘Sure.’

  ‘She know you’re here?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Kids?’

  She took a sip.

  ‘Jay was my only child,’ he said.

  She rested her glass on the table. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said quietly. Ofelia pulled a packet of cigarettes from her jean pocket. She had a trim figure and her slim lean hands rested on the table. Her fingers removed a fat, irregular-shaped cigarette from the box. ‘To be a little more accurate,’ she said, ‘before the accident perhaps he wasn’t in the best way, but I’m not sure.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘That lad carried around a lot of weight on him – a bit like the heap I see on you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘That’s religion for you,’ she said. ‘Jay wasn’t stupid; he was smart and very aware.’

  ‘Yes, he lived consciously.’

  ‘The way I see it, being born into religion is a solitary life. You analyse everything you do, deeming it right or wrong, and never just trundle along.’ She reached up for a lighter next to the Virgin Mary. ‘Well, if ya interested in walking in his shoes,’ she said, ‘you better have some of this. He smoked sometimes.’ She nipped the cigarette between her narrow lips.

  ‘That doesn’t look like a normal cigarette,’ he said. ‘What are you smoking?’

  She chuckled and mumbled, ‘Does it matter?’

  She was right – it didn’t. If his son had been there, part of him was tempted to go there too.

  ‘It’s grass, darling,’ she said. ‘And don’t get coy; you pious folk are the most curious of all.’ Her hands rose with the lighter and a soft glow appeared between her fingers.

  Dan didn’t know what to think. It was her bar so he just had to accept it. He was not, however, surprised Jay had experimented with drugs.

  He heard voices behind him and looked back over his shoulder. The front door swung open and three of the cruellest-looking men he had even seen walked in. At least one of them was heavily built and they all seemed angry, scanning the room as if wanting trouble. They approached t
he bar.

  ‘Charlie!’ Ofelia shouted out. It hurt Dan’s ears. Chair legs barked in a back room and a short man in an apron appeared in the dim bar light.

  Dan looked at Ofelia and saw the cigarette in her mouth. She seemed very comfortable and he knew from experience it meant this was her safe place – smoking in her bar, sitting in her favourite corner. Her eyes narrowed as she inhaled and she waited before exhaling then slowly opened her eyes. She looked at him with a soft milky glare.

  ‘Here,’ she said, reaching out with the cigarette. Her life was so different to his.

  ‘Not a chance,’ he said. Then, without thinking, his hand suddenly took it, as if with a mind of its own. He was stunned how quickly part of him had turned. His renegade hand carried it to his lips – it was a very, very odd feeling. He inhaled and breathed the putrid smoke into his cheeks. It tasted like bushfire smoke – if you have ever got a lung-full of that – and just felt wrong to breathe in.

  ‘You’re not drawing back,’ she said.

  He exhaled and coughed. ‘Of course, not,’ he said, coughing. ‘That’s hideous.’

  ‘It’s no good just mulling it around in your mouth.’

  He licked his lips to get rid of the taste and Ofelia chuckled. He didn’t feel any effect and handed the cigarette back to her.

  He glanced at the bar. ‘Weird place,’ he said.

  She smiled and laid the cigarette down on the ash tray. ‘So what else do you need to know, Daniel?’ she asked.

  He hesitated and placed his elbows up on the table. ‘You said my son talked about me?’

  She inhaled noisily through her nostrils. ‘A few times... ’she said. ‘I know you didn’t agree on anything.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was that bad.’

  She shrugged. Dan could tell she was being loyal to Jay and would do much to protect him. He reached down and started playing with his glass of beer, turning it slowly around on the table. He considered his next question. He was very conscious of what he was doing here but felt he was now relaxing and that the beer and cigarette wasn’t such a bad thing. Ofelia was a nice person and he felt he could begin talking freely.

  ‘You knew him well?’

  She tabbed the cigarette on the ashtray. ‘Well enough. He came to me for lady advice and we talked about things he couldn’t tell the men. He often sat right here, where you are now.’

  Dan looked down and started turning his glass again, watching it slip easily on its smooth wet base.

  ‘He became a player, though – with the ladies, I mean. But I thought he was pretty sweet about it. He was just a guy wanting to catch up. He had found the right people for it; I guess that’s why he adopted them.’ She turned and looked at the bar. ‘It was clear to me he was making up for lost time, doing things he had seen others do. Every few weeks he had a new girl. Broke a few hearts.’

  Dan wiped a little condensation away from the glass with his finger. He glanced at Ofelia’s eyes and remembered the very different vision she had had of Jay. His son once had a whole side to him he had not guessed. ‘I had great plans for him,’ he said, ‘to become a moral man, maybe a leader. To walk the difficult road.’

  She exhibited a disbelieving smile. ‘That’s a lot of pressure for a kid,’ she said. ‘And as for the difficult road – I think he was already walking it, but not in the way you expected.’

  The front door opened and he heard more patrons enter in behind him. He looked around and briefly studied them. It was fair to say Jay had probably dressed and behaved just like these men and he started developing a different, perhaps more accurate, picture in his head. One or two men glance back and scrutinise him. He looked at Ofelia and gestured at the room.

  ‘I just don’t understand how a life like this would attract anyone.’

  ‘You’re looking down in this place?’ she said.

  He answered immediately. ‘Of course not. ’ That was a lie and they both knew it.

  She inhaled on her cigarette. ‘There’s no judgement here, Daniel; you should remember that. In my bar you can be who you want. Messed up, screwed up, twisted – it doesn’t matter.’ She slowly exhaled then nodded at his glass. ‘Drink up,’ she said.

  He reached down and slowly took a mouthful of beer. The man called Charlie arrived at their table with two more glasses. Dan glanced at the patrons and saw that they now filled the room. He had never been in a bar like this. It was noisy and a little frightening and he was glad he was with her.

  She picked up the cigarette and handed it to him. ‘Inhale it into your lungs this time,’ she said.

  He felt the cigarette’s light cone shape between his fingers and pondered putting it down. But what would be gained by strict rules that, it seems, had prevented him learning? He put the butt between his lips, inhaled and tried to breathe a portion into his lungs. His body reacted instantly and he coughed.

  Ofelia chuckled and reached out for the cigarette. ‘Very good, Daniel,’ she said. ‘You’re funny.’

  He sensed himself growing weaker and, in a wonderful way, losing control. He felt alright, but it occurred to him he might be approaching a dangerous point in the evening. But... not just yet. He needed to think about truly carrying out his plans to glean everything he could. To go forward he needed to trust her with his insecurities like his son had. He felt he was capable of remaining himself and yet was conscious of Ruth’s disapproval if she were to find out. But, in Ofelia, he had someone to talk to about Jay and now realised he had really needed this for so, so long. He would take the chance.

  He flicked his chin at the room. ‘So who are all these people, then?’

  ‘Loggers, truckers… bikers,’ she said. ‘Working class folk.’ She raised the cigarette, inhaled and he watched her eyes narrow. She slowly exhaled and the smoke mulled around the table. ‘We get married people in here all the time looking for something, so don’t worry.’

  She was baiting him.

  ‘I’m not worried,’ he said. ‘I’ve nothing to hide.’ He glanced at the burning cone of marijuana in her hand.

  ‘Well, just a little bit.’ Ofelia spluttered and he giggled. He tried to stop but then began to laugh and his face fell to the table. He hadn’t laughed as outwardly for a long time.

  Ofelia pulled out a standard cigarette from her box. ‘Right, your turn,’ she said. ‘How’s Ned and Joe? I haven’t heard from them in years.’

  Dan shrugged. ‘They’re well,’ he said. ‘Last time I spoke to Joe he was very happy.’

  She peered at him with one eye narrower than the other. ‘With a woman?’ she asked.

  Dan, wanting to retain his confidence, simply shrugged.

  Her eyes widened then she laughed up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t believe it. Things have changed.’

  ‘And Ned,’ Dan said, ‘well… as you know he’s a tough case.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ she said, nodding. ‘He’s a very angry man.’ She raised the lighter and lit up. ‘He was always the one with the big plan,’ she mumbled. ‘Visions of grandeur, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dan said.

  ‘You know,’ she said, waving her hand around, ‘he had a great influence on your boy.’ She put the lighter down on the table.

  ‘Ned?’ He reached out and started turning his glass.

  ‘He was the first to reach out to Jay and he really appreciated it.’

  ‘Jay admired Ned?’

  He began thinking about the times he had spent with Ned – sitting under the house and pumping yabbies on the flats.

  It triggered something and Dan just started talking, a little aimlessly. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘… it sounds strange… but, I sometimes find myself mumbling. I express to Jay how frustrated I am with him. All I get from him is a shrug of the shoulders.’ He stopped and paused. ‘Look, to be honest with you, I wanted to – no, I had to – protect him from the awful things out there. Just shield him.’

  Ofelia looked down at her drink. ‘I guess I understand,’ she said. ‘If yo
u love something enough you’ll do anything to protect it.’ She sucked on her cigarette and slowly exhaled. ‘But there’s one lesson I have learnt, Daniel,’ she said, ‘You can’t make a person do anything they don’t want to do. They’re not children. Ultimately, they’ll just do it anyway.’

  He nodded; he knew from counselling that this was very true.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, staring at his drink. ‘I wish I could have handled things differently. There must have been an easier way, although I still don’t know what that way should have been.’ He stopped speaking and stared at the glass for a long time. He felt himself growing emotional – it had been building up for a long time. ‘I’ll do anything,’ he said, ‘just to have him back. To let him live life the way he wanted, and just be my son. I want another chance not to judge him. I can’t tell Ruth this stuff. I need to be a man about it but, in truth, she’s a stronger person than I.’

  Ofelia raised her glass and sipped her drink. She swallowed and put the glass down. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘We all make mistakes. Sometimes we learn our lessons early, but most of us don’t learn quickly enough. We try to get things right but most times we blow it – and this is our existence.’ She paused. ‘It’s sad to see you like this, but you know what, Daniel? We all have our stories. I can’t remember ever being without one.’

  Dan didn’t know what she meant. ‘I see,’ he said. He fell silent. ‘And what is this story that you talk about?’

  She tabbed her cigarette. ‘For example, I can’t ever remember being a kid,’ she said. ‘Not like you probably did. Things happened. You know I was selling dope before I was eleven?’

  ‘What about your family?’ he said. ‘Did they know?’

  She looked down and seemed to grow defensive and even mildly angry. ‘My uncle was doing things he shouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but there you go.’

  The room was silent. Dan knew what she meant – he had heard this inference so many times and he was now frankly getting sick of it. It happens more than you think and he had even counselled men that had admitted to it, some barely apologetic. If you think humankind isn’t trash – think about that. It is the great unspoken. He had, on more than one occasion, visualised squeezing their necks.

  ‘Your parents knew?’

  ‘No. My father would have killed him. But then he, my father, lost his farm and ended his own life when I was sixteen. I’m not angry at him; it just sad he’s no longer here to protect me. I’ve always felt a little lonely and it weighs on me a bit. That’s my weight; it’s there all the time.’ She shrugged and sipped her drink. ‘When I turned eighteen I studied business then bought this bar. It was a dump but it was mine and I renovated it by hand. I own it and no one has anything over me. When things go bad I have this place to protect me.’ She inhaled on the cigarette. ‘Life’s not fun, Daniel, if you start off like that. And once it’s done you can’t go back.’ She exhaled smoke. ‘Some people say we should be thankful for what we have, appreciate life, but it’s not always like that. Things happen and you’re stuck with it.’ She shrugged and placed the cigarette down on the ashtray.

  Ofelia’s story, to him, seemed heavier than the others. Perhaps, because she had once been intimate with his son. He felt a need to pick up from where his son had left off, to be close to her, to tell her it was OK.

  ‘It’s times like this I don’t like the world I live in.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ she said. ‘What can I say? You got to.’

  He glanced behind him. ‘Hey, a draft hits me every time someone opens that door,’ he said. ‘Can we move?’

  She stubbed out the cigarette and shouted out at the crowd. ‘Spot!’ she said over the noise. She waved at a man wearing a biker’s leather jacket. ‘Come here.’ The man broke from his group, stepping towards the table. ‘Give me your jacket?’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘This is my friend Daniel,’ she said. ‘He’s cold. Give him your jacket.’ The man pouted then took off his jacket. He placed in over Dan’s shoulders, patted his back and slowly walked away.

  ‘Thank you,’ Dan said quietly to her. He glanced at it and thought it looked pretty odd on his Baptist preacher shoulders. ‘It feels a bit strange.’

  ‘The jacket?’ she said. ‘Well, your son wore one.’

  He looked down and picked at the zipper.

  Before he became fully aware, he saw it was two in the morning. The crowd had starting to thin but he knew he didn’t want to leave – he wanted to keep talking. More time passed and, before he knew it, Charlie was waving goodbye. He walked into the night and Dan felt the cold air on his face before the door closed. He glanced at the bar and saw it was empty, then looked at Ofelia. It was strange but, because of her relationship with Jay, he now felt like he knew her. It wasn’t fair what had happened to her and every other evil thing that had happened to others. He felt the urge to reach out and touch her, as if doing so would somehow relieve her ache. She saw his eyes then suddenly stood. Her unexpected move made him realise they had arrived at – and were about to cross – a certain line.

  She walked towards the bar, changed the music and came back with more drinks. She sat down and he smiled at her.

  ‘You know,’ he said, feeling a little lofty from the marijuana. ‘I’ve always had a sense of direction in my life. There’s always been a template – a set of rules.’ He looked at the bar and gestured at it. ‘But your experience with this bar and its people interests me. You have lived a life of no boundaries.’

  ‘Ha, that’s funny,’ she said, ‘because – you know what? – your life seems attractive to me. I could have done with some black and white rules. Thou shall not steal,’ she said. ‘Thou shall not screw up a child for the rest of her lives.’ She glanced down, picked up her cigarette and inhaled bravely. ‘I started this life alone – that’s how it feels,’ she said, ‘and I’ll end it alone. And that’s totally fine with me.’

  Her safest place was to be alone. He sensed a surge coming and then suddenly, and very surprisingly, glanced away from Ofelia.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He looked at her blank face and felt his throat tightening. He reached out, hesitated, then started to stroke her hair. He knew he was attracted to her in some weird way and felt, with a sense of unexpected liberation, he was ready to jettison all he had with Ruth just for one night of holding her – nothing but to hold her. He pondered this then remembered his rare, irreplaceable peace at home.

  Wake up, man!

  He had developed feelings for her – whether imaginary or real – and it was trouble. Now was the time to get out. The harmony in his life wasn’t something he had earned; he had simply stumbled upon it. He slowly let go of her hair and looked down at the table.

  ‘I’m standing right on the precipice,’ he thought. ‘Think before your next step. There is nothing more terrifying than a life without peace. And you’re on the cusp of losing it.’

  ‘I will most likely not see you for a long time after tonight,’ he said. ‘It just isn’t wise.’

  He glanced up at her. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I knew you were going to say that.’

  He waited. ‘The things that have happened to you,’ he said. ‘Did you share some of them with my son?’

  She slowly nodded. ‘I guess,’ she said. ‘We told each other everything.’

  He placed his palms on the table and slowly stood. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’m really, really sorry but I’ve got to go.’ He removed the jacket and placed it over the chair. He was going back to his old life. ‘Good bye, Ofelia,’ he said.

  She looked up. She was strong, unlike him, and would be OK. For her he would become just one more strange story to tell. ‘Good bye, Daniel,’ she said.

  He slowly turned and walked towards the door. He glanced back for one final look and saw her smoking, staring at him, then he walked out into the night.

  A single streetlight dimly lit the car park and, as he past into the sh
adows, he suddenly stumbled and fell to the ground. He was on all fours in beside his car, the gravel biting into his palms. A deep pain was piercing his heart. It was a dark feeling – jet black and his heart could not bear it.

  The world is a sad lonely place, he thought, and I’m pretty sure I want nothing more to do with it.