Chapter 32
the thirty second chapter
AMOS
A handwritten sign is taped to the pump.
Diesel only in Windorah.
“Good thing you blokes have a ute if you're headed that way,” warns a grey haired flannel-clad man nearby. “You got far to go?”
Marco is staring at the tree on the corner, oblivious to the question.
“We're heading north,” I reply. “And then home to Brisbane.”
“Bloody oath, that's a fair hike,” he laughs.
“Certainly is.”
Which is why we’ve stopped to refuel.
“Bit out in the woop woops, aren't ya?”
Woop woops, indeed, I smile. For my woop woops man.
“Visiting family,” I explain.
“Got the feeling you weren't from around here.”
The number on the fuel pump screen ticks beyond one hundred and continues to climb.
Marco is still staring at the tree.
Flannel Man studies my face.
“Yeah, come to think of it, you look like Donna's boy.”
I know he’s just being friendly, but it’s starting to feel awkward now.
The hose guzzles, then clicks to a halt.
Tank full.
I take my darling by the hand to guide him back toward the truck.
A gentle shoulder squeeze.
A tender kiss on the cheek, holding the door open for him as he climbs inside.
“We'd better get going,” I say, waving farewell to the nosey local.
But the wave is not returned.
My fuel pump friend has a sour expression on his face.
Must have noticed the hand holding and the cheek peck.
His nose is scrunched in disapproval.
“Fucking pansies,” he mutters under his breath.
And not in a gardening sense.
The thud of my door brings a comforting sense of retreat.
Crisp air from the vents is a welcome sensation.
Especially after spending hours in Louise’s garden.
“Need a coffee before we go, bub?”
He shakes his head half heartedly.
His mind is still elsewhere.
I kiss Marco gently on the mouth, flipping a middle finger at the man outside.
◆◆◆
Pulling out onto the road, I indicate out of habit.
Indicating to no one.
The road is empty as always.
And that's when it clicks.
The tree on the corner.
The fuel stop.
A passenger door opening before he leaves her behind.
Marco is reliving it.
His head turns the other way as we pass the pub on our right.
Not out of fear this time, but reclamation.
The tree line ends.
Red dirt greets us on either side.
And then, the cattle grid beneath our tires.
A green welcome sign faces the other way.
I increase my speed to one hundred.
The narrow open road is one straight, eternal line.
It stretches as far as the eye can see.
Longreach 215km, says the GPS.
Marco slips the phone from his pocket, holding it at an angle.
He’s filming the power lines.
Once again, they lead him out of here.
But this time, with his head held high.
This time, he isn’t running.
Because he’s no longer a captive.
◆◆◆
The sun is setting now.
A goodbye of sorts.
“Look at our grubby nails,” he smiles. “Gardening gives us bloke hands.”
“Nothing a bit of soap can’t fix,” I laugh. “That sexy stubble can stay though.”
He swings the visor down to take a peek in the mirror.
“You like Hairy Marco?”
“I love.”
◆◆◆
By the time we curve the bend into Longreach, dusk beckons the sun into hiding.
Our screens buzz simultaneously, reconnecting with the network.
A flood of messages from the outside world ping all at once.
He skims his emails.
“Astra Luna is still functioning without me. Why do I have mixed feelings about that?”
“You trained them well, bub. It’s okay to step back.”
“I guess,” he shrugs. “Oh, Beth sent us her address. Quail Street. Near Falcon and Lark."
I pause next to the curb, updating our coordinates.
Scrolling my phone, I see three messages from Vonnie.
A face palm emoji in response to my eggplant text, followed by two that say:
Still alive?
And then…
If I don't hear from you by Friday I'm sending a search party.
I flick her a reply.
Have survived hairy spiders, snakes, a possum and an angry drunk. Tent may need a hose down ;)
“Happy birthday, punk.” Marco reads. “Porter reckons I need a walking frame and glasses now that I'm only a few years away from thirty. Cheeky bugger.”
I raise a brow.
“Porter and I are both a year older than you. Park your walking frame next to ours.”
He laughs, typing his reply out loud.
“Just been… to visit Ma in Jundah. Now we’re… gonna go… see Beth. Send.”
I open a message from my mum.
How was the camping trip?
When can we video chat the birthday boy?
“What time is Beth expecting us?” I ask.
“Any time after six.”
Forty five minutes to spare.
“Keen for a quick video chat? The fam wants to wish you a happy birthday.”
He seems surprised by this.
“Yeah, go on then."
His smile is soft.
The dial tone purrs.
And suddenly there they are, six of my favourite faces.
◆◆◆
“There he is!” beams Mum. “Happy birthday, Marco! Hugs from us!”
“Thanks, Ava,” he waves. “Amos spoiled me with pancakes this morning.”
“Pancakes in the outback? Bet that was yummy.”
“Delicious. And a pretty sunrise under the tree, too.”
He runs a naughty hand along my thigh, out of view of the camera.
I return the favour.
“You boys surviving the wild?” asks my dad.
“Yep. Been teaching your son how to be a country lad,” Marco winks.
“Good luck with that,” laughs Talia in the background.
“Hey, excuse me, I swung an axe this afternoon. And spent the night in a tent.”
“I wanna see Uncle Amos's tent.”
A little nose fills the screen, followed by a blur of curls.
“I see tent tooooo,” Benson pleads.
“We've packed up the tent, mate. But I'll send your Mummy a photo later.”
Ollie gives an impatient sigh.
“When is Uncle Marco coming back to Gran and Poppa's house?”
My eyes dart to the left.
Uncle Marco, I mouth silently.
I hope they’re not being too intense for him.
To my relief, he seems honoured by the title.
“When Uncle Amos and I finish hunting for dragon eggs, okay?”
“You found a dragon egg?!”
“Almost,” he shrugs. “We'll keep looking while we're on our adventure.”
We hear a cheer as two pairs of little feet run around the room in excitement.
Ava and Keith reappear.
“So everything went alright?” she asks. “With...?”
He told them the basics last time we were over there for lunch.
“With my mum? Yeah. We had a long overdue hug.”
I give him a light kiss on the hand.
“That's wonderful. Not easy to knock on that door, I’m sure.”
He turns to look at me.
“Had a good man by my side. Made things a lot easier.”
I cover the screen with my sleeve, then steal a kiss for real.
A knee weakening kiss.
One that lasts longer than a few seconds.
“Oh… you've disappeared, love,” Mum says. “Are you there?”
We hear a faint rustle on the microphone.
Our kiss intensifies.
“Keith, I think I must have hit the button by accident. The video's cut out.”
We savour one more smooch before I pull my sleeve away from the phone.
“We're here.”
“There they are. Keith, what did you press?”
“We'd better get going,” I grin. “Someone's expecting us for dinner.”
“When do you get back?”
“Maybe tomorrow night if we drive non stop. Are you lot home on Sunday arvo?”
“Yes, come over any time. You prefer chocolate cake or banana, Marco?”
“Mum does a mean banana cake…” I whisper.
“Banana with chocolate frosting?” he requests.
She gives a thumbs up.
“Righto, love. Give us a bell when you're on your way. And drive safe, won't ya?”
◆◆◆
When the call ends, we cuddle for a moment.
“I'm not used to that,” Marco admits quietly.
“Used to what?”
“Family gatherings. Family video chats. Feels nice.”
He tucks his fingers inside my sleeve.
I pause to let this sink in.
“You're so loved, you know that?”
He nods gently.
“I mean it, bub. My family adores you. So do Beth and Porter. So does your mum, despite her struggles.” My voice fades to a hush. “And I fall deeper in love with you every damn day.”
This time, the kiss is slow and all consuming.
For the next half an hour, we almost forget that we have somewhere else to be.
“One quick question though?” I ask as we straighten our clothes.
“Mm-hmm?”
“Where are we gonna find a dragon egg by Sunday?”
“I have connections,” Marco smiles knowingly. “Let me pull a few strings.”
◆◆◆
A row of homes glow in the night as we slow to a crawl along Quail Street.
“It's this one, I think. She said we can park on the grass.”
The engine ticks as it cools.
I secretly imagined that Beth’s home would give the vibe of someone who made their own soup from scratch.
And it does.
A cosy cottage beneath a eucalyptus tree.
Weathered and rustic, with plenty of soul.
Porch light on.
Stained glass window in the front.
My mum would love those mosaic planter pots.
Beth stands in the doorway, waving to welcome us.
Thick silver curls down to her waist.
A burgundy kaftan.
Beaded bracelets on each wrist.
Marco makes a bee line up the wooden stairs, wrapping her in his arms.
“Missed you so much,” he says.
“I've missed you too, kiddo.” She holds him tight. “Found the place okay?”
I stand awkwardly behind them, placing our overnight bag at his feet.
But she pulls me in to join their huddle.
“So good to meet you, Amos. This lad talks about you non-stop.”
“Same here. Feels like I already know you.”
Marco's ears tinge pink.
He looks so happy, and it fills my heart.
“Come inside, let's get you settled. The guest room has clean sheets and towels.”
She leads us through a door on the left.
“Nice big bed. And you've got this bathroom all to yourselves.”
Such a beautifully renovated home.
I think we should move in.
“I imagine after camping in the wild, you'll feel like a hot shower?” she says.
She’s right.
We probably smell like a farm.
Easing the curtains shut, she leaves us to it.
“Dinner should be ready in about forty or so. I'll holler when it's done.”
“Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing, thank you,” I smile.
“Chicken pie and roast potatoes, hun,” she calls from down the hallway.
Marco closes the door behind us.
◆◆◆
“Can we stay here forever?” I ask. “She's lovely.”
“She is,” he agrees. “She makes anywhere feel like home.”