Texas

by Sarah Hay

  Her head was against his chest and she felt him breathe.

  ‘All right,’ she said, realising that if she was to be with him, there was nowhere else to go.

  II

  Days were punctuated by the appearance of beer and liquor in brown bottles with yellow or red and white labels. Thick wet air wrapped around them. She stopped resisting and it seeped into her being. Sometimes there was a fight or someone said something in anger and it broke through the cloud, for a moment. Texas leaning in to kiss her mouth, holding her there without touching the rest of her body. Empty cans and bottles falling, breaking, broken and crushed beside them. People, their relations, borrowed money from Texas and because she’d been wearing the same clothes for days, she borrowed a dress from Jill, who had a baby daughter. When Jill didn’t come back to the camp one night, Laura tried to comfort the child but she couldn’t and so she gave her to Betty. Sometimes she washed at the block but other times she forgot. One of her flip-flops broke and they took the station wagon into town to buy more and everyone came with them, including the old woman with whom she’d sat under a tree and shared a flagon; the woman whose family was shot, brothers and sisters and cousins and aunties and uncles, when they walked through the bush at holiday time, that caused a big mob of cattle to rush, cattle from a long way, heading for the meatworks. All of them people dead and she a little girl, hiding behind that ant bed. Texas bought ten pairs of thongs and they all climbed back in the car and drove out to where water gushed from a concrete wall and ran over rocks and the banks smelt of dead fish. Barramundi fishing place. A friend called Harry told her about the man who fell in and when they found him months later he was wrapped in fishing line and brightly coloured lures. They swam in flat dark water beside a road called the crossing and she was told there might be crocodiles and, learning to understand what was meant, she knew it wasn’t safe. She and Texas floated together. Sometimes the glaze slipped from his eyes but it was less and less often. They camped in the car by the river, only the two of them, and she drew the shape of his body with her hands, wanting it to be true, but knowing in a small, sad corner of her mind that it was ending, that she was loving him from a distance. In the middle of the night Texas woke up. He heard noises. Might be ghosts, or the old people, he said. They drove out of there in the dark and the feeling of fear was more real than anything else.

  One morning she returned from using the bathroom in the pub to where he was sitting under a tree in the middle of town.

  Texas They’d been drinking solidly for five days. His shirt was unbuttoned and dirty and he was unshaven.

  ‘Where you been? You go with some other fella?’ His eyes were unrecognisable.

  ‘I went to the toilet,’ she said.

  His expression changed and he seemed confused, as though he didn’t know who she was, and then he turned towards a group of people walking in their direction.

  ‘That fella owe me a carton,’ he said and he tried to stand up.

  She looked down at her hands and the dirt under her nails. ‘I want to stop this,’ she muttered.

  She didn’t know whether he heard but he stayed where he was.

  ‘Let’s go somewhere else. We could go to Billie’s and get our things and go to another town. Get out of here, get out of this place. Just you and me together.’

  Where there wouldn’t be so many relations. People to drink with. That was what she meant. She was tired of sharing him with all these people. He reached for her hands and pulled them roughly towards him and she longed for the time when, lying together, he would gently stroke her skin.

  ‘Ow, you bit me,’ she said, touching her lip, looking at her fingers for evidence of blood.

  She knew he didn’t mean to do it. She stared at him, wanting to cry, but it was as though everything on the inside had been dried up by the grog. His hand trembled when he touched her face. Tracing the outline of her chin with his finger. She noticed over his shoulder that the group was getting closer. He stood up, and was walking unsteadily towards the people, his friends and relations who had settled in the grass a short distance away, perhaps expecting that she would follow. When she walked in the other direction, she realised she wasn’t even sure any more that he would miss her.

  III

  Wind blew dustily and gusted in stark, white light that leached colour from the dirt, the grass and the trees. Buildings and roads shimmered. She took small steps, her clothes seeming tighter as though her body was swollen. She was so far from home. Women and men stood side by side at the counter of the service station, the heat taking away the energy to communicate. Finding some change in her pocket, she bought an orange juice and a sandwich, unable to remember the last time she ate. She loitered in the aisle of the store, the airconditioning bringing some relief, hoping it would help to clear her mind.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  It was the woman from behind the counter. Laura couldn’t think for a moment. She didn’t know what to say, pushing her hair away from her face, looking down at her feet.

  ‘Who are you?’ the woman demanded. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’m from England,’ Laura mumbled. ‘I’ve lost . . .’

  ‘You need to go to the police station.’

  Texas The woman’s face was disapproving, disgusted even. Laura wanted to tell her that she was no different from her, it was just that she’d lost everything, but the words wouldn’t come out and she was ashamed. She sat at an outdoor table in the shade. Eyes aching with tiredness. If only she could remember where Billie and Wal lived, how many streets they’d walked. Her body yielded to the temperature. As long as she didn’t move, the dense beat of her heart was steady. But she had to move, she couldn’t sit there all day. The youth hostel: they would know her there perhaps. But then how would she pay for anything? She needed her passport to take to the bank. People walked in and out of the doors. She could see the outline of the woman through the glass. She had to move on. She didn’t want to go to the police. It wasn’t as if anything had been stolen. She kept to the shaded side of the street, thinking only about the things that belonged to her, turning left into the main street. There was a four-by-four angle-parked in front of the co-op. It looked like the station vehicle but there were vehicles like that everywhere. If it was John, she didn’t want to be seen. She waited under a gum tree. Leaf shadows moved over her arms as a dry wind flicked them about. Clouds were building up again and rolling towards the sun.

  ‘Susannah.’

  The manager’s wife looked up as she carried a box of groceries towards the car. A woman with another box was following.

  ‘Laura, is that you? What are you doing here?’

  ‘The jillaroo?’ asked the other woman as she placed the box in the back of the vehicle.

  Susannah threw the woman a look of dislike and it sent her back into the co-op.

  ‘Give us a hand with these boxes. Won’t take a minute. The boys are just in there.’ Susannah gestured with her head towards the shop but her eyes were on Laura. ‘Tell me what’s been happening. I thought you might have gone by now.’

  Laura picked up the last box from beside the door as Susannah put the children in the car. She looked across at Laura.

  ‘Do you want to get in?’

  Laura nodded. She climbed in the front seat and noticed her shorts. They were filthy. She had washed them at the camp, she just couldn’t remember when. She looked out the side window along the street to the park where he might be.

  Susannah was in the driver’s seat. The boys were excited to see her, repeating her name over and over, until their mother told them to be quiet.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Laura glanced quickly at her and then away, the sadness expanding like something solid, and it made it difficult to breathe, to find her voice.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I left all my things at a friend’s place. I can’t find where it is.’

  ‘Sure. Do you want me to drive around and
we can look for the house?’

  ‘That’d be great,’ she said, facing the passenger window, not wanting Susannah to see her desperation, realising how lucky she was to be rescued.

  Texas They drove from one end of the street to the other. And then into another street and all the gravel roads looked the same. Susannah wasn’t saying anything and Laura thought she might be irritated.

  ‘This street, maybe,’ said Laura, scanning quickly, seeing a large palm. ‘There I think.’ She recognised the house and her voice was stronger. ‘Yes, that’s it.’

  She managed a small, grateful smile and climbed out of the car.

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ said Susannah.

  ‘Thanks.’

  She tapped on the front door, waiting, pushing away the thought that there might not be anyone home. Billie opened the door, and looked at her and then across at Susannah in the vehicle.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Billie, it’s Laura. I’ve just come to get my things.’

  Billie stood in the doorway for a moment. Unsmiling. ‘Where’s Texas?’

  ‘He’s in town with Maisie.’

  Billie turned, speaking over her shoulder. ‘Come in and close the door, keep out the heat.’

  Laura followed her through the kitchen, glancing guiltily around the room, relieved that no one else was there. Her pack lay on its side where she had left it, beside Texas’s swag, and when she saw his things, his hat, she ached for him. She picked up the pack and slung it over her shoulder. She swallowed noisily. Billie looked at her.

  ‘You going home now?’

  Laura nodded, her eyes watering, walking quickly towards the door.

  ‘Thanks,’ she managed to get out, before she couldn’t talk any more.

  IV

  Susannah saw the door open and Laura appeared carrying a backpack. The door closed behind her and she seemed to walk a little unsteadily towards the vehicle. When she reached the window Susannah could see that her face was wet.

  ‘Just put it in the back there,’ she called out to her.

  She reached over towards the glove box, placing the travel pack of tissues on the dashboard. Laura opened the door. When she’d settled into her seat Susannah pointed them out.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Mummy, why’s Laura crying? Has she done a bad thing?’

  ‘Shush. Laura’s sad, you need to be quiet. You all right?’ asked Susannah as she started the car.

  Laura nodded almost indiscernibly.

  ‘Do you want to go and get something to eat? Get a drink?’

  Laura sighed. ‘I need to go to the bank.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ve got some money. We’ll sort it out later.’

  Susannah drove slowly down the street, glancing occasionally at the girl in the passenger seat. Her hair was unkempt and

  Texas her shoulder marked by dirt. She smelt of stale grog. Susannah couldn’t help but feel responsible for her. She couldn’t make up her mind whether Laura was brave or foolish. Perhaps she was neither. Susannah switched off the ignition. Laura blew her nose and looked up through the windscreen at the flat-roofed building with a brown timber fence attached to one side. The pods from a golden rain tree clattered in the breeze.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘The tavern. I thought I might get the kids something to eat where there’s airconditioning.’

  They pushed open the double doors. Susannah walked ahead, buoyed by the blast of cold air. The contrast between the temperature inside and out was extraordinary and she wondered how she’d managed to cope with the heat. She wanted to ask Laura where she’d been this past week and what had happened. She hoped it was nothing terrible, although she couldn’t be sure from the way Laura looked. She didn’t know where Texas lived when he wasn’t working. She didn’t know anything about him, other than what Irish had told her.

  ‘Do you want any food?’ she asked Laura.

  Laura shook her head. Susannah ordered chips for the children and drinks for them all and returned to the table with Laura sitting at one end and the boys clambering over each other, reaching for the sugar sachets.

  ‘They’ll know all about it when they find the pepper,’ said Susannah.

  Their eyes met and Laura smiled weakly.

  ‘You probably think I’m an idiot,’ she said after a while.

  ‘No, that’s not what I think at all,’ said Susannah, although it was probably closer to the truth than anything else, and then she asked, ‘So it’s all over?’

  Laura nodded. ‘I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t. I just walked away.’

  ‘It’s probably for the best.’ Susannah realised she sounded like her mother. ‘I mean, what else could you do? You were going to have to leave sometime. I guess it would’ve been harder if you’d talked about it.’

  ‘We were always drunk. There was nothing else to do.’

  Susannah tried to look nonchalant but she felt a slight stab of disapproval. Really, what was Laura thinking?

  ‘And then he changed. It was so different in town,’ Laura added.

  The woman brought their order to the table and took away the mess the boys had made. Susannah couldn’t think of anything to say. She helped the children open the tomato sauce sachets.

  ‘This place looks more like a pub in England,’ said Laura.

  ‘With the dark wood and the carpet.’

  ‘Does it?’ said Susannah absently, watching the children, resigned to the moment approaching when things spiralled out of control.

  ‘I feel like I’m in a parallel world. I can’t get used to it. The pub, where I was, it’s only a street away.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Susannah. ‘Stop that. There’ll be no chips if you don’t sit properly.’ She looked across at Laura. ‘They’ve got a dress code here.’ She reached for the food and glanced back. ‘So are you going to stay in town? What are you going to do?’

  Texas ‘Oh, no, I can’t stay here. I think there’s a bus that comes in the evening. I’ve got to go to the bank.’ Laura hesitated and looked towards the doors. ‘I don’t want to see him. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t want him to be hurt.’

  ‘Well of course he’s going to be hurt. But you know there’s always next season. He’ll get over it.’

  When she saw the expression on Laura’s face, she said quickly, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that you weren’t . . . um . . . important to him.’

  ‘I hope he’s all right.’

  ‘He’s probably thinking the same thing about you,’ said Susannah, although she did wonder what he felt about it all. The ending was predictable but not because of Texas. Susannah had always thought their relationship was like one of those holiday romances she’d heard about from her friends. But Susannah was surprised Laura had stayed as long as she had.

  ‘I need to get organised,’ said Laura.

  ‘Perhaps you should have a wash first.’ She meant it kindly but Laura blushed and then her expression hardened.

  ‘Look, I better get going.’ She rose out of her seat.

  ‘Laura, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just thought there’re rooms out the back here and they might let you use the shower . . . well, you don’t want to bump into him. I’ve done everything I need to in town . . . I can wait until the bus comes . . . If you want.’

  Susannah wasn’t sure why she cared so much. Perhaps she wanted to see what it was like to leave.

  Laura was still for a moment. Then she sat down and, without looking at Susannah, she said in a small, tight voice, ‘I would like that. Thank you.’

  The tavern manager had wanted some money for the use of the shower and Susannah paid it while Laura went to the car to get her things. Then they were driving around town again and Susannah noticed the way Laura looked in the other direction when they passed groups of Aboriginal people in the street or in the park near the trees. Susannah hadn’t thought about it before but she wondered where they lived and why they were there, sitting in gro
ups or standing around in the heat. Had Laura been there? She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like. They went to the bank and then to the post office to find out about the bus. Laura climbed back in the vehicle.

  ‘It leaves at five out the front of the pub.’

  Susannah glanced at her watch. It was only one o’clock.

  ‘We could go out to the dam. They reckon everyone should see that before they go.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Laura but without much enthusiasm.

  ‘It’ll kill some time anyway,’ added Susannah, and she put the vehicle into reverse.

  They drove out of town as if they were driving back to the station. Susannah had passed the sign that marked the turnoff many times before. But even though she knew this section of the road well and the shape of the hills had become familiar, it always felt as though she was entering another country.

  ‘I feel so guilty,’ said Laura.

  Texas Susannah glanced at her after they turned off onto the narrow gravel road.

  ‘You don’t need to feel guilty. You’re from England. You’re just passing through.’

  ‘I don’t know whether to be insulted or reassured.’ Laura pressed her lips together.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be insulting,’ said Susannah, trying to find a kinder tone. She stared into the country, feeling Laura’s eyes on her as she steered the vehicle along the skinny strip of dirt that wound around the side of a hill. Its edges were sharp and rocky and large boulders seemed mounted at impossible angles.

  ‘The thing is, I’ve always thought of myself as a country girl but I’m not sure what that means any more.’ What was she trying to tell Laura? Was there any point in explaining herself when Laura would be gone very soon? She could tell her that to know a place was to learn how the past might’ve shaped the present. Then perhaps you could avoid being trapped by other people’s thoughts and ideas. But it was also impossible to know a place. It was like trying to know everything about a person. She didn’t doubt that Laura loved Texas. She had nothing to tell Laura. She was still trying to work it out for herself.

  They drove on, down gullies and up again. More hills appeared, irregular in shape, and vegetation grew thinly and patchily like an adolescent growing his first beard. The vehicle climbed a long hill and followed a curve in the road and then they came out onto the lookout, and water, metal grey and flat like a mirror, lay across the earth as far as the eye could see, interrupted by hills and rocky outcrops transformed into islands, pale vertical lines at their base, marking the variation in water level.