Chapter 11 #2
“Love, I saw those injuries with my own eyes.
And the burns you showed me on your back.
You said the nurse in Jundah had seen them too.
That's all they need to know. You were well within your legal rights to leave.
There's no doubt in my mind that you're better off staying away from that piece of....” she catches herself. “From that house. From him.”
I inhale slowly.
I’m torn between my dream of the city and my safe haven with Beth.
“And if I did a TAFE course, could we still...? Would you visit me?”
I don’t mean to sound needy.
It’s just… the thought of never seeing her again makes me so sad.
“Of course, hun,” she said. “Good luck keeping me away. I'll be there anytime you need me. We can chat on the phone whenever you like.”
It feels so good to hear her say it.
“I'm no stranger to Brisbane. I visit the coast as often as I can.”
Brisbane.
Those golden sandy shores.
Perhaps my dream is still within reach.
I’ve almost saved enough of my weekly allowance to afford the bus ticket.
But something causes me to hesitate.
A Beth-shaped something.
The fear of having nobody once again.
Hopefully the bus driver won’t recognise me, now that I’ve cleaned myself up.
“Plenty of time to think about it,” she says. “There's no rush.”
I spend the rest of my shift smiling from ear to ear, clearing dirty plates and glasses as though I’ve just won the lottery.
She’s not bailing on me.
She's promised we’ll stay in touch.
She’ll still be my Beth.
◆◆◆
November is here already.
Almost three months since I arrived.
We’re standing at the bus stop on a golden afternoon.
This time I’m a passenger, not a stowaway.
One large suitcase and one overstuffed duffel bag.
I’m holding a book that I actually own.
I get to keep this one forever.
A wizard boy who escaped his scary family and travelled to a magical school.
Beth is my Molly Weasley.
TAFE is my Hogwarts.
Harry was given a magic ticket to a new life.
So was Charlie Bucket.
And now I’m holding one too.
I’ve been using it as a bookmark.
But the words keep blurring on the page.
My eyes won’t stop doing that thing they do.
Getting all watery whenever I think about being so far away from Beth.
My carry-on luggage is loaded with chilled containers of food.
She’s given me a handful of cash in a thick brown envelope.
“Don't spend it too fast,” she growls.
“Keep it hidden. And call me as soon as you get there.”
She’s also given me her old phone.
It has a camera and everything.
“Promise,” I smile. “I'll probably call you so often, you'll need to block my number.”
“Never gonna happen,” she laughs. “I'll miss your cheeky face.”
“I’ll miss you more.”
Somehow we’ve become family in just a matter of months.
Some people simply feel like home.
“You've got the address I gave you? And the map?”
“Got it,” I confirm, patting my pocket. “Franko knows what time my bus is due?”
“He does. And if he's still at the market, someone else will be there to meet you.”
Franko is a mate of hers in Brisbane.
A Longreach lad, once upon a time.
When they were younger, he wanted to be more than mates.
Had a crush on her back then, she said.
Maybe he still does.
Beth wasn’t keen on him in that way.
Despite that, she’d remained good friends with his sister over the years.
And now she’s asking for a favour.
Which is why I’m leaving much earlier than I planned to.
My hospitality course doesn’t start until March.
But Franko needs someone now.
He’s offering accommodation and meals.
I’ll help in the kitchen, just like I do here.
Said he wanted to hire someone before the summer.
That’s when the restaurant hits peak season.
As much as I hate leaving before Christmas, it’s a rare opportunity.
Would be much harder to find a city job on my own.
“He's a hard worker,” Beth had said.
I’d overheard their video chat a few weeks ago.
“Best kitchen hand I've ever had. Strong, fit lad with a heart of gold.”
“Righto. And he’s punctual?”
“Very. Super organised. Tidy and efficient. Won't give you any trouble.”
She’d given me a look as she said that last bit.
Raising an eyebrow, as if to make sure I’d hold up my end of the deal.
I know how lucky I am.
I won’t mess this up.
So here we stand, eight minutes before departure.
We’re pretending that neither of us are on the verge of tears.
One last hug, and then I’m off.
I climb the stairs of that bus, just as I wanted to do the first time I saw it.
When we finally pull away from the curb, I press my forehead against the window.
Smaller, smaller, smaller.
I watch Beth shrink to the size of a jelly bean.
◆◆◆
Would it be lame to call her before I’ve even reached the first town?
I make myself wait.
Made it to Charleville, I text just before midnight.
My phone buzzes within minutes.
Sleep well, love, she replies. I've booked a flight for Christmas next month.
Reading those words is so comforting.
Unfortunately, dozing off is close to impossible.
Not just my fear, but the bus itself.
Stiff seat, cold window, people on every side.
The guy in front of me has leaned so far back that I can see his dandruff.
I try to read my book but it makes me dizzy.
So I count road signs.
Endless miles of nothing.
At least I’m facing the right direction, finally bound for the coast.
I keep my eyes glued to the window, even though it’s pitch black outside.
Every time I see a unique name on a town sign, I write it in my notebook.
Mungallala.
Muckadilla.
Wallumbilla.
Dulacca.
We stop briefly in a town called Miles.
Miles, just like the name of the street I grew up on.
Miles, like the distance between me and Beth.
There isn’t a lot to see or do at four thirty in the morning.
But I’ve been on my butt for hours.
I need to stretch my legs.
I only venture as far as the corner, worried that the driver might leave without me.
Next time I step off this bus, I’ll be a city boy.
Surrounded by buildings that reach higher than the clouds.
I’ve dreamed of this since I was tiny, and now it’s happening for real.
I must have drifted off sometime after Chinchilla.
When I wake, the sun is shining in my eyes.
Our driver is announcing the final stop.
“Folks, we'll be arriving in Brisbane shortly. Please ensure you take all your belongings with you including any wrappers or drink bottles. Estimated time of arrival is ten fifty three this morning.”
Ten fifty three.
I check the clock on my phone.
It’s ten thirty eight.
Not long to go.
Almost there, I text Beth. I'm so nervous. But in a good way.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for her response.
It pings just as the bus pulls into the depot.
You've got this, kiddo, she says. Call me tonight. Everything's gonna be fine.
“Everything's gonna be fine,” I whisper.
◆◆◆
There’s a lot of honking on this street.
Perhaps drivers are saying hello to each other?
I yank my suitcase from the luggage compartment below.
The space where I once hid.
“Everything's gonna be fine. Everything's gonna be fine.”
Wheeling the case behind me, I whisper it over and over.
Beth has printed a tiny map with directions.
I follow them as best as I can.
It’s like a puzzle.
A game with clues.
Roma Street Train Station, reads the sign above me.
Fortitude Valley, points another.
Maybe that valley will be a good place for stargazing.
No beach signs yet, but I’ll find it.
Real traffic lights, just like in the photos.
Real foot paths too.
I can’t stop looking up.
A jungle of concrete towers claw their hands across the sky above me.
Shuffling my way through the crowd, I’ve never seen so many faces at once.
Someone grabs my sleeve when I step off the curb.
Bugger.
Forgot to wait for that little green man on the signal.
Don’t wanna get squished by a moped.
Shoulder to shoulder with countless strangers, I move with the tide.
A river made of people.
The rush of city traffic hums alongside us, a river made of wheels.
That rumbling sound is a bit of an adjustment.
Not as loud as a tractor or a chainsaw.
Just a constant groan of engines that never stops.
Signs and billboards clutter every corner and every building.
Words, words, words everywhere.
Still can’t find the sign I’m looking for.
Crumpled paper map in one hand, everything I own in the other.
I pause for a moment, letting the people flow around me.
Remember to breathe.
Remember to breathe.
Then I follow the path that Beth has marked in blue.