by Don Zelma
Chapter Forty-five
Dan arrived on Joe Judd’s porch, a little short of breath, and peered in through the fly screen. The oxygen tubes were rubbing behind his ears, beginning to hurt, but at the moment he didn’t give a damn. He felt Joe’s approaching footsteps through the floor and saw his lumbering gait appear in the lounge. His legs buckled beneath him and he slowly sat down onto the porch. Joe flung open the screen and gripped under his arms.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he said. He was in a panic.
Dan reached out for the wall. ‘Wha’do ya think?’ he said, wheezing. ‘I’ve come to visit ya.’ An oxygen tube had slipped out from behind his ear and he struggled to put it back.
‘Let’s you get inside,’ Joe said. He lifted and Dan stood shakily. Joe reached out for the oxygen bottle, opened the door, carried Dan in through the lounge room, and eventually out into the kitchen. ‘Here,’ he said, easing him down onto a chair. The seat creaked under his weight and he rested his head down onto the table. He stared at the marble veneer, his head rocking up and down to his panting. Joe guided the oxygen tube back over his ear and Dan started sobbing with pain. There was almost no recovery now.
A minute passed and Dan looked up. He squeezed his eyes and saw Joe standing in the kitchen, a little dumbstruck.
Something smelt dead, and he looked around the room. He saw unwashed pots in the sink.
‘Lad,’ he said. ‘This place is a bit of a mess.’
Joe was silent.
Dan waved his hand at the backdoor. ‘Let’s sit out back,’ he said. ‘It’s winter and the air is nice to breath.’
‘Sure… Sure,’ Joe said. ‘But you probably shouldn’t be here, Danny. You’re sick and Ruth’s gonna kill us.’
He took a few long breaths. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said, ‘Get me a cold drink, will ya?’
Joe hesitated then turned and reached for the refrigerator. He removed two beers and the bottles tinkled like wind chimes in the silence. ‘Ned and I wanted to see ya,’ he said. He kneed the refrigerator closed, a bottle in each hand.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Dan said. ‘But, Ruth’s not keen on it.’ He waited, breathing. ‘Come on… Let’s go out back.’
He felt a little better. He reached for his oxygen bottle and slowly stood. It took thirty seconds to cross the floor and step out onto the porch.
Joe went down two steps, holding the beers, and sat slowly. He looked up, a little worried. Dan put a hand on his shoulder and his other hand on the house and sat gently down beside him. The walk from the kitchen had exhausted him and he closed his eyes. A washing machine was running under the house and he waited, listening to it. He could feel Joe staring.
‘How do you feel?’ Joe asked.
He opened his eyes, looked at Joe then slowly at the yard. ‘Oh, it comes and goes,’ he said. ‘Sometimes, I think I’m in trouble then other times like I just might rally. I don’t know what’s going to happen and it’s messing with my head.’
Joe looked down and began fidgeting with his bottle. He gripped the neck and removed the twist-top cap. The bottle hissed and he handed it to Dan. He liked the feel of the cold glass and raised the neck and sniffed, remembering his first beer fishing with Ned. His hand began shaking but he managed a nip and it was wonderful. For a moment he felt very, very good – like he could live forever.
He closed his eyes and slowly leaned against the siding. ‘Ah,’ he said. He licked his lips. ‘That’s nice.’
There was a long pause. ‘You were worrying the hell out of me for a second,’ Joe said.
‘Sorry,’ Dan said.
A minute passed and he felt his breathing normalise. It was good not being distracted by his lungs. He reached back for the valve of the bottle and slowed the flow of oxygen. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked at the yard. ‘Joe, I’ve got something to tell you.’
Joe looked down and quietly knocked his boots together. ‘Sure, what is it?’ he asked, anxiously.
Dan looked down into the neck of his bottle. ‘I’m going into a hospice.’
Joe looked away towards the lawn. He waited and spoke quietly. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yeah,’ Dan said. His shaking finger wiped condensation away from the cold glass. ‘Ruth can’t look after me anymore and I don’t want her to see me go like this.’
Joe slowly nodded.
‘The doctor’s giving me too many pills. I gotta take a steroid to help me breath. The clinic treatment puts a metallic taste in my mouth and I’m on fluid tablets, calcium tablets – you name it. The whole thing’s giving me cataracts.’
Joe glanced at him; he didn’t know what to say.
‘As chaplain I’ve seen many bad cases in hospital,’ he said. ‘Things can get pretty rotten.’ He took another sip, slowly swallowed then glanced up at the sky. ‘For a while I thought I was getting better, you know,’ he said, ‘because the symptoms come and go.’ Then he slowly shook his head. ‘But here I am – shot. Completely shot.’ He gently peeled the label from his glass and let it dangle wet and saggy between his fingers. ‘This illness reminds me of the tide,’ he said. He flicked the label to the step and gently put the bottle down. ‘I saw it when I fished with Ned. The tide comes in slowly and surely, and there’s no stopping it.’
He reached up and slowly removed the cannula. He turned off the flow metre and his world went quiet and he could hear the birds in the trees. The air was warm and moist and he could speak clearly.
‘Listen, Joe,’ he said. ‘What’s going on with Ned? I went to his house but couldn’t find him. I haven’t seen him since the fire and I’m very worried.’
Joe shrugged. ‘Did you know Edith left him?’
‘Yes, I did.’
Joe leaned back and put his elbows on the step behind him. ‘Not long after that he met a divorcee in town, got sweet on her and she’s now moved in. But he fights with her a lot – so nothing’s changed. He says she doesn’t understand him. He sees his boy once a week.’ Joe raised his bottle and quietly sipped. ‘Sometimes, I wake up and find him asleep in my spare room. I think he’s a little confused. He’s cut up about many things.’
Dan looked down and slowly nodded, staring at his shoes.
‘Recently,’ Joe said, ‘he told me he had a plan to get out – he said he was close to finishing. He said everything was going to be OK.’
Dan glanced at him. ‘That’s good news,’ he said. But it wasn’t, really.
Joe reached down and picked at his boot. He slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know what he’s talking about,’ he said quietly. ‘But you know Ned – he’s always been a bit of a dreamer.’
Dan’s finger started drawing random shapes on the condensation of his bottle. ‘And Edith?’ he asked.
Joe shrugged. ‘She started studying. Ned said she’s smart and will do well.’
There was a long pause. Dan watched a lizard slip in through the undergrowth and slowly go in under the house.
‘Don’t worry, Danny,’ Joe said, looking up at the yard. ‘He’ll be fine. He always is.’
Dan took a gentle nip of beer, then his thoughts turned to Joe. ‘Seeing anyone?’ he asked.
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Just the same old thing. I’m having fun being unattached – it’s a great way to be.’
Dan pondered the strange tone in his voice. Quite clearly, Joe was a terrible liar.
‘Did I tell you,’ Joe said, ‘that two months after I broke up with Lola, she left Browning? She went north to a small mining town.’ He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He smiled, but despondently. ‘Lola taught me a lot about relationships,’ he said. ‘So I think I’m ready now. Really. I’m waiting for another gut feeling like that. It’ll pop up again, soon.’
‘Sure, it will.’
Joe looked around the yard; he didn’t really believe what he had just said. ‘You know what?’ he said. ‘That feeling I had with Lola – I’ve learnt you can’t just make it happen whenever you want. You don’t have that sor
t of control.’ He coughed and quietly cleared his throat. ‘I always thought it’d be there when I was ready, you know? But, I was wrong. Love chooses who and when. It’s as rare as an eclipse, as random as a lottery win.’ He reached down and picked at his trousers, leaving a long pause before speaking. ‘Dan… I gotta tell ya… I still think about her all the time. I’m not delighted with what I did, but couldn’t help it.’ He stretched his legs out down the steps. ‘You know what I heard? I heard that six months after she left Browning she met a guy and they got engaged. And this week, I heard she was having a baby. But it’s only been eighteen months and probably only a rumour. It can’t be true, can it?’
Dan leaned sideways and gently rested his head against the weatherboard. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. He saw Joe staring at the yard – the possibility it might be true had silenced him.
‘I have to admit,’ Joe said quietly, ‘I knew Lola might see another man while I sorted myself out, but I always thought we would be together in the end – our feelings were so powerful; it just seemed inevitable.’ There was a long silence. Joe looked up and scratched his chin. ‘Yes, I screwed up. I’m ready to admit it, but I guess just because I now realise that, doesn’t mean I get awarded a happy ending.’
Joe was right about that.
Dan glanced at him – he was staring at the yard with a blank face. ‘I’m sleeping well, you know,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m desperately seeking a kind heart that will understand me. But I did a lot of stupid things.’
Dan rested his head back on the siding. ‘Sometimes, I fret I’m gonna be alone and the thought keeps me up nights. What do you think? Pretty freaky, eh?’
Dan stared at the siding. ‘Sounds pretty weird,’ he said. ‘But it’ll pass.’
There was a short pause. ‘Yeah, that’s what I think,’ Joe said.
Dan started feeling a growing heaviness inside him. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said.
Joe reached up, took a long drink and almost finished the bottle.
Dan knew he was exhausted and despite his need to find out more, he knew he would need to go home. He pictured being taken to the hospice the following morning. He reckoned there were few things worse and, if he had something to say, now was the time to capitulate and shed his reticence.
‘Joe,’ he said, ‘can I confide something in you?’
Joe blinked, a little surprised. ‘Um, sure.’
He stared at the neighbour’s fence. ‘Sometimes, I see a lot of Jay in you. Your expressions and mannerisms make me feel closer to him. I see in you and Ned an answer to what may have happened. I always did.’ A flock of crows passed above a distant tree line and started banking towards them. ‘After the accident,’ he said, ‘the police escorted me to the morgue and I saw his body on the table. He looked OK, but they said he was very smashed up inside.’
Joe was silent. Dan closed his eyes and listened. One day soon this breathing would stop and he now thought about that moment – and what would happen then. He heard the crows slowly pass overhead, their many wings quietly beating the air.
‘Jay was a good man,’ Joe said quietly.
Dan slowly opened his eyes.
‘We caught him looking at our bikes at a gas station one morning. He was young and innocent but envied our lives. Later, he met us secretly and started to drink. It took years for him to loosen up but he was OK in the end. He hated being different.’ Joe flicked his hand at the house. ‘He used to come to my place a lot. Sometimes, he’d bring a girl and we’d do coke. Sometimes, I would wake up and see him in my spare room – smashed and naked with the girl. He seemed in such a hurry, you know, to catch up.’ He reached down and scratched his ankle. ‘I watched as he shed his principals bit by bit, until the old Jay almost disappeared. But, you know what? Right to the end I regularly saw him do very generous things. The good side never completely left him.’ Joe paused. ‘He rarely spoke of you… but I could tell something was going on there and weighing him down. But I guess it doesn’t matter.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘The older you get the more baggage you acquire. It doesn’t matter what path you take.’ Joe reached down and picked up his near-empty bottle.
The day had turned twilight and Joe sipped his bottle and emptied it. The streetlights flickered on and projected the neighbour’s fence onto the drive. Dan leaned to his side, resting his head on the siding.
‘Did you drive here, Danny?’ Joe asked.
Dan remembered, and nodded.
‘I thought they took your licence away on account of your eyes?’
Dan guffawed. ‘They did,’ he said. ‘But what are they going to do – arrest me?’ He slowly closed his eyes and took a few long breaths. The pain was returning to his chest.
‘You OK?’ Joe asked.
Dan waited then shook his head, no.
‘Do you need to go home?’
Dan pondered. He was beat. He nodded, yes.
‘OK, mate,’ Joe said. He reached out and gently took his bottle. He stood, walked up the stairs and Dan heard the mouse-like squeak of the screen door. The kitchen light came on, casting a shadow onto the lawn and Joe’s large figure move across the grass. Dan slowly glanced over his shoulder and looked at the kitchen. Joe put the empty bottles on the window sill, moved a few plates around, but never really cleaned anything up. The house was a mess – a hell of a mess.
Dan turned, looked at the lawn and gazed at his shadow sitting on the step. He slowly placed the cannula into his nose, reached back and opened the flow metre. The little ball rose to the highest level on the scale and he accepted now it was at its maximum rate. Joe’s footsteps approached and the screen door opened.
Dan felt him grip under his arms and lift. He pushed down and straightened his legs, but Joe was holding tight and wouldn’t let go.
‘Things get more shambolic the older you get,’ Joe whispered. ‘Jay was right – We’re a mess, Danny – all of us. We’re old and beat up and can’t get a damn thing right.’
Dan dropped his chin to his chest and listened.
‘And you left your manse to find this out,’ he said. ‘You’re in it now, Danny – in over your head.’
He slowly looked back, locked eyes with Joe, and stared.
Dan pulled up in front of his garage door and saw the light was on in the bedroom. He lifted the gas bottle from the seat, dragged it out of the car and walked slowly down the side of the house. He passed along the hibiscus, listening to the crickets of the yard. Tomorrow, the ambulance would come. He would miss the old house.
He paused at the paling gate, and rested before the walk upstairs. He listened to the air hissing through his tubes. Suddenly, he heard a noise from under the house and held his breath. He shuffled inside the gate, waited, then reached down and turned off the oxygen. It was dark between the posts then, in a far corner, he saw a dim flashing light. This was wrong. He shuffled inside then waited. He walked further, looked around a post and saw the television from the office sitting on a removalist’s box.
‘Hello?’ Dan said. He could barely see. He stepped forwards and saw Ned sitting on the sofa, lit by the dim light of the screen. Here was Ned, having not visited for so long, still searching for a ‘home’. Dan’s heart sank; he yearned for his friend. He saw his stomach hanging out of his shirt and his long black beard. An empty bottle of rum glistened on the floor and cola cans were scattered about. Dan saw his chest rising and falling.
Suddenly, Ned twitched, then formed a fist turning his knuckles white. He was dreaming. It was a nightmare and Dan had had them – the one when you’re stuck in a small room, lashing out at the walls, trying to get out.
Dan stepped up to the couch and slowly sat beside him. He saw Ned’s tight grubby fist and slowly reached out and held it. His fingers felt for the remote, switched off the television and the room went dark. And he stared out at his house and into the unknown.