by Don Zelma
Chapter Forty-three
Dan got out of his car and waited out on the footpath, the rain raging on the roof of the manse. He opened his front gate, walked into the yard, feeling his suit growing heavy with rain. The noise of the downpour on the tin roof got louder, sounding like a waterfall as he neared. He slowed near the paling gate, looked up and saw the light was on in the kitchen window.
‘I cannot bear to see her,’ he thought.
Water from the down pipe was gushing over his shoes and rain was falling quickly through the streetlamp’s dim light. He stepped slowly in under the house and it went quiet like walking into a cave. He felt his way between the posts in the dark, water squelching in his shoes. His desk could be seen ahead in the dark and he stepped in and sat slowly in the chair. The walk had tired him and he breathed long and regular breaths.
Something rapped the louver glass and he looked up. He remained still, listening to the rain, then saw a dark shape move in the window. He stood, reached out and opened the glass louvers.
‘Hi, mate,’ said a voice.
Dan could just see him in the downpour. The man pulled back the hood of an oilskin jacket.
‘I saw you standing on your lawn in the rain,’ he said.
‘Joe?’
‘Hey, Daniel.’ He reached up and adjusted the peak of his baseball cap.
‘What... What are you doing here?’
He glanced back at the yard. ‘Ah… I was just wandering about,’ he said. He removed his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. It was a serious squall. ‘I was walking past your house,’ he said, ‘and saw you through the rain.’ He wiped the water from his face. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Yes,’ Dan said. ‘One year and four months.’
Joe reached down and picked at the wet window ledge. ‘What were you doing wandering around on your lawn?’ he asked.
Although he hadn’t told Ruth, after the private matters they had shared, it seemed natural he share a little. ‘I’ve been seeing a doctor for several weeks,’ he said. He paused, listening to the rain. ‘They’ve now told me I’m very sick.’
Joe looked down, backlit by the streetlight. Rain was splattering in his hair. ‘Can they fix it?’ he said.
He slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. My lungs are shot.’
A gust hit the house and the windows gently rattled.
‘I’m sorry,’ Joe said. His voice was barely audible. ‘Maybe Providence wasn’t thrilled about you hanging around me and Ned?’ he said. It was meant to make him smile and almost worked.
‘Perhaps,’ he said.
Joe looked back at the rain. ‘Yeah, well, don’t fret too much,’ he said. ‘Doctors don’t know everything.’
Dan thought about it. ‘That’s right,’ he said, a little encouraged. ‘They don’t.’
Joe started playing with his cap, water trickling down his temples.
‘Come out of the rain, Joe,’ Dan said. He gestured at the office.
‘Na, not this time, mate,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come out?’
Dan wasn’t sure what he meant. A swell hit the roof and the rain got louder.
Joe removed a large bottle from his jacket and waved it at him. ‘I got some Scotch with me.’
It was a strange suggestion but, considering the circumstances, it might just take his mind off things.
‘Your son liked it,’ he said. ‘You got some glasses in there?’
Dan glanced at his tea set beside the kettle. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘Coffee cups.’
‘Bring ’em out,’ Joe said.
Dan hesitated, looking at Joe. His face was the sad distant face of his son’s. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Of course, I’ll come out.’ He picked up the cups and walked out of the office. He stepped out into the rain and walked cautiously up the side, squinting in the downpour. Joe’s large silhouette was clear, standing beside the hibiscus. Dan pulled up beside the laundry window.
‘Hold out the cups,’ Joe said. He uncapped the bottle and began to pour, adding just a nip to each cup. Dan could tell, specifically by the tone of his voice, something was weighing on him. He capped the bottle and slowly placed it down on the grass. He stepped to where water was overflowing from the guttering and passed the cups underneath, mixing the scotch with water.
‘Here ya go, Danny.’
Dan took the cup and looked into it in the dim light. He put it to his lips and carefully sipped. It tasted like petrol and he leant forward and spat it out. Joe quietly chuckled. He took another sip and forced it down. A comfortable silence followed for a moment and Dan realised how much his missed him.
‘Joe,’ he said quietly. ‘My illness is very bad. I know what the doctor has said is true. I can feel it coming.’
Joe took a good mouthful of scotch and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He glanced up at the rain, letting it strike his face.
‘My job as a counsellor was my life,’ Dan said, watching him, ‘but I’ve got to give it away.’
Joe waited then looked down. ‘Look at us,’ he said. He turned and glanced at the yard. ‘We’re like a couple of drowned rats.’ He reached up, ran his fingers through his hair and slowly put on his cap.
The rain was easing off and Dan raised his cup and sipped. Joe, too, took a nip and swallowed.
‘How did Ruth react?’ Joe asked.
Dan glanced up at the house. ‘I haven’t told her yet,’ he said. ‘I only just found out.’ He looked down into his cup and swirled the scotch around. ‘It’ll destroy her,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll give it until tomorrow.’ He sipped and was feeling better.
‘What did you say about your job?’
Dan shrugged. ‘I’ll have to resign,’ he said. ‘Soon, I will be too sick to work.’
‘Well,’ Joe said. ‘If you’re resigning as pastor then this little drink isn’t breaking any rules, is it?’ he said.
‘I guess not,’ Dan said. He started nodding and smiled warmly. ‘I guess not.’ He reached up and wiped the back of his neck. ‘So, where are you walking to tonight, Joe?’
There was a little pause. Joe reached up and rubbed his nose.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, looking around. ‘I had some things on my mind and had some time to kill.’ He put a hand into his jacket. ‘Hey, perhaps your missus will be more flexible now and let you spend time with us?’
Dan looked up at the rain and listened to it quietly hitting the tin roof. ‘We’ll see,’ he said.
Joe glanced at his watch. ‘Well… I guess I’ll be off.’ He raised his cup and swallowed his remaining drink.
Dan took the cup and put it on the laundry window sill and Joe lifted his hood over his head. He reached out and presented his large hand and Dan shook it then grasped it with both hands. He started to grow emotional.
‘It’s good to see you, Joe,’ he said.
‘Yeah, you too,’ Joe said. He coughed and cleared his throat. ‘Hey, it’s raining like hell,’ he said. He picked up the bottle from the grass and slipped it into his pocket. ‘Well, we’ll meet again soon if you like?’
Dan nodded. ‘I would like that,’ he said.
‘Take it easy,’ he said.
Joe slowly turned and began walking away. He passed into the shadow of the hibiscus and Dan heard the front gate squeak. He stepped forward, peered through the leaves of the hibiscus and watched Joe’s oil-skin jacket melt into the rain and the dark.