Central to Nowhere

by D. J. Blackmore

  Adam chewed the flesh and sawed himself another chunk. He cut through the chips like a sawmill. Ivy didn’t seem hungry at all. Adam wasn’t sure if he was, either, but it was steak, and he always felt good eating steak, no matter what. Ivy ought to try it.

  ‘Only good girls get dessert.’

  ‘Guess I’m outa luck, then,’ she weakly said.

  Why couldn’t she just tell him what was wrong? Was she disappointed that his cooking was as mediocre as the decor, or was she still snorting furious about what had been troubling her before?

  She looked up at the knock on the door. Adam got up to answer it.

  ‘Jack, what are you doing here? Since when do you knock?’

  ‘RJ said it was best if I did.’ Jack walked in grinning and glanced across at Ivy. He took in her pretty red sundress and the hint of colour on her lips. Adam waited to find out what the kid had come for. It looked like he’d forgotten.

  ‘Like your dress, Ivy.’

  She smiled at him and did that thing where she flicked her hair off her shoulders and Jack near melted where he stood. Adam only then remembered he’d said nothing about how good she looked tonight. Maybe that wasn’t helping.

  ‘So, is this a social visit, or did you come to check out Mona Lisa’s smile?’

  Jack tripped over his words. ‘Oh sorry, I forgot. Our … um … toaster’s gone bung.’

  ‘I’ll get you the one from the kitchen.’ Ivy was pushing out her chair. She gave a smile to Jack. The one Adam had waited for all afternoon.

  Adam realised he was clenching his jaw.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Adam said. ‘I’ve finished my tea anyway.’ He’d all but eaten the pattern off his plate, trying to digest the turmoil inside him along with the steak. Now here was Jack staring at Ivy like he’d never seen a beautiful woman before. Adam guessed he hadn’t, not one as pretty as Ivy, that was for sure.

  Adam grabbed the toaster from the kitchen and walked to the front door. He gave Jack a meaningful glance, wanting to propel the kid towards it. But Jack was slow to catch on, and stood there looking stupid.

  ‘Are you going to the dirt bike meeting?’ Jack looked at Ivy hopefully.

  ‘What, are you asking her on a date?’ Adam folded his arms.

  ‘Oh, well, no I just, I just wondered …’

  ‘What meeting is that?’ Ivy paused, mid-fork.

  ‘The Twilight Meeting is on tomorrow. Should be a cracker.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll go. How about you, Adam?’

  ‘Absolutely, heck we may as well pile straw in the back of the Bedford and clamber on the tray and ride into town together. That would be cosy, wouldn’t it?’

  Jack didn’t catch Adam’s sarcasm. ‘Nah, ’cos I’m riding too, and my bike will have to go on the back tray.’ Jack threw back his shoulders, grinned like the kid he was. That was until he saw the hard stare levelled his way. Jack blinked once or twice, then backed out the door. Not before he put his head around the door to say to Ivy, ‘Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Good night, Jack.’ Adam closed the screen door, and after a moment’s thought, locked the door as well. If anyone else came knocking, they weren’t at home.

  ‘Sounds like fun,’ Ivy said, suddenly all animated when he went back into the dining room. Adam wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank the young ringer, or kick him in the pants. It was probably the latter.

  ‘Were you going to go?’ She sounded vaguely accusing.

  ‘I wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if you’d want to go.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t ask me.’

  How did she manage to make that sound like an insult? Adam was silent for a moment. Looked down at his empty plate. All he was left with was the bone.

  ‘I would have asked you. I just hadn’t got around to it, that’s all.’

  What he did know was that he wouldn’t have asked Jack to go along. It had taken Jack to pique Ivy’s interest in some motorbike show and Adam was jealous.

  ‘Let me help you with these.’ Ivy stood and stacked their plates before he could think to do it, and had headed to the kitchen sink.

  Adam sat, chin resting on his hands.

  His attempt at romance hadn’t been remarkable at all. It hadn’t been vaguely intimate and he wished he knew what to do to make it right. Short of asking her what was wrong, there was no way of getting to the bottom of it. But Adam knew why he didn’t want to broach the topic. Why it was so hard to do. He was afraid that Ivy had changed her mind about him, and about Michael too. Maybe Ivy was ready to go back to the bright lights, just like Rachael had yearned to do. Summer was nearly at its end.

  He knew that their understanding had come with few words. He had wanted to give her time to let her feelings for him grow. He had flagged her down in the airport like a man consumed, and she had come back at his begging. But he wondered now if she had done it merely out of the goodness of her heart, to continue to help him on at the station because of his broken leg, until the season ended. Had she totally misunderstood what he was asking? After all, she had a life back in Sydney. A life he barely knew anything about. But besides a few wasted years as a teenager, he just knew that Ivy had a clean slate.

  After all, he hadn’t shared what he felt about her. He hadn’t given her any words of how he felt. Heck, he hadn’t even told her how she had stunned him with her beauty in the pretty summer dress. It had taken Jack to do that. And here he was sitting on his backside like a useless article, when Ivy was out there preparing to do the dishes.

  Adam eased himself from the chair.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ivy shaded her eyes from the sun, still fierce, as it slowly sank towards the horizon. The place was lined with plastic bunting that rustled on barbed wire fences. Beneath bright tents riders pulled on back braces like armour. Flags fluttered beneath sky and dust. Ear jewellery glinted bright as wicked eyes. Some racers had wild hair that hung like fox tails beneath their helmets.

  Cranky engines revved and fuel fumes filled the warm air. The smell of gas was syrupy. Other smells of toffee apple and cherry bomb, powered by adrenaline and grunt, met her nose. They were like sideshow entertainers, pulling on gloves for glory. Knights on a track with enough torque to make it first to the chequered flag, or skill enough to give it everything in trying. Least, that was what RJ said.

  ‘Death before dishonour,’ she turned to hear someone say. Seriously? She guessed it was a joke, yet these guys appeared to be readying for battle.

  Ivy turned to RJ. ‘Did you come here to watch Seth win?’

  He couldn’t hear her above the noise of engines, so she yelled out again.

  ‘He’ll have his work cut out, him and Jack. I’m here as mechanic for the old fella. He’s a legend. Been around the tracks before most of these young blokes were born, and he’s still giving them something to chase.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Watch him. Part of the reason why so many people are here.’

  ‘Is Seth going to be in this race too?’

  RJ shrugged.

  A gray-haired man pulled his helmet down, straddled the seat and leaned way over the front of the bike. Throttles were revved to the limit, plumes rose from exhausts like smoke from guns. A gate was dropped and the bikes leaped out from the grid and onto the track. Horses more dangerous than any Ivy would like to ride.

  RJ cheered as loud as anybody when the black-and-white flag came up. The old stager took the chequered flag, did a victory lap, pulling a wheel stand the length of the track.

  ‘Jumped the gate! Bloke’s a show pony,’ Ivy heard someone scoff.

  ‘Reflexes,’ RJ argued but he was grinning, as though it was a compliment he took for himself. ‘In any case, they’re self-penalising,’ he told her. Ivy had no idea what he meant.

  Ivy went and found the amenities block. And there, leaning against th
e back wall of the toilets, was Rachael, her voice rising as she talked to Seth. Ivy stopped short, blinking surprise. They just stared at her as though they’d never seen her before. Looked right through her. Ivy walked into the cubicle and closed the door, wondering why Rachael was in town, if she hadn’t come to pick up Michael or even call.

  But when she emerged to wash her hands, Rachael was waiting for her. It seemed she did remember Ivy after all.

  ‘How are you, Ivy?’ They were on friendly terms now? Ivy hadn’t been sure if Adam’s ex-wife even knew her name. ‘How’s Michael?’

  ‘He’s doing really well.’ Concern for Adam and his little boy filled Ivy.

  ‘That’s good, I guess it’s fair that Adam sees him for a while.’ She shrugged, and Ivy didn’t dare ask how much more time together father and son were going to get.

  ‘How has he been?’

  ‘Missing his mum, I would imagine.’

  Something like dismay crossed Rachael’s face. She bit her lip. Scratched herself. She spun away, put a hand to her mouth. Fighting emotion that Ivy guessed revolved around Michael. Ivy didn’t smell alcohol on her, but Rachael was acting kind of tipsy. Ivy covered the issue of Michael with another topic.

  ‘You like the racing?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s quite exciting.’ Ivy was surprised to realise that this was the truth.

  ‘Listen I’d rather you didn’t mention to Adam that you saw me. I’m just here for now, you know?’

  Ivy nodded, ‘Absolutely.’ But Ivy wasn’t sure what to think. Was Rachael going to get her son eventually or not?

  And once more Rachael smiled. The points of her teeth peeked to touch her bottom lip, like some lovely vampire that had forsaken blood for way too long. A mosquito buzzed around Ivy’s neck.

  She swatted it as Rachael left the toilet block. Ivy heard her talking in the shadows before following Seth. He turned to hiss angrily, grabbing her arm. Rachael zig-zagged her way to follow him, disappearing into the night. There seemed to be defeat in the stoop of her shoulders. Something like sadness that bowed her head.

  Rachael was doing as she was told. She was torn, and she was fighting demons that Ivy could only guess at. What’s more, Rachael loved her son. She hadn’t been able to hide her pain—although she had tried—in the stark light of the toilet block.

  The races were over. The rusty red Bedford was waiting and it was a welcoming sight.

  ‘Jump up, Ivy.’ RJ grinned. There was grease on his hands and his face. ‘I’d give you a hand up like they do the ladies in the Westerns, but I’d make you filthy.’

  But it was Adam who got behind the wheel of RJ’s vehicle, because RJ was staying behind to help the old fella pack up after his win. Jack had already strapped his bike on the back and slid in on the bench seat beside her. She thought she saw Adam frown. She looked for Rachael amongst the dispersing crowd, but through the dust and headlights, there were no faces she knew.

  They drove through the evening in silence, until all the streetlights were left behind. When they finally pulled up at the station, Ivy hardly noticed Jack’s disappointed goodnight. He’d missed a place on the podium, but he had ridden on high hopes when they’d gone into town that night.

  ‘Going to grab your bike, mate?’ Adam called out.

  Jack dragged his feet, calling over his shoulder, ‘No one will take it out here in the middle of the scrub.’

  Ivy was still thinking about the encounter with Rachael, about her promise to keep quiet.

  Her thoughts about Adam’s future were more confusing than they had been before. What would Grace say if she knew that Rachael was in town, that she seemed to have no care for Michael, that she was holding back from seeing her son? Ivy was torn between what she knew was right and keeping her word.

  ‘Ivy, I don’t know what the problem is between us. It’s like you’ve already left me to go back home. I smile at you but you just look right through me.’

  Adam’s words shocked her back to where she was. She realised they’d been sitting together silently in the car for some moments before he’d spoken. She struggled to gather her thoughts.

  ‘I’m only here for the summer, that’s all.’ She was flippant. Her tone made a liar of her feelings, her words twisting baling twine tight around her heart.

  ‘You’re putting me through the wringer, Ivy. I don’t know what to think or know what to say to you.’

  ‘Think of your son, because when I’m gone, you’ll still have him. And Rachael, if you wanted to try again. Michael needs you both. Together.’ There, she said it. Ivy had released that bitter thought and, for better or worse, could see her own six-year-old self in Michael’s position.

  ‘Rachael? Are you serious? What’s she got to do with anything? Rachael means nothing to me. She’s the mother of my son and always will be, but we ended whatever we had.’

  They got out of the car and headed toward the house. Ivy opened her mouth to speak—and tell him Rachael was back—but she was crippled by the heartbreak of Adam’s entreaty. She knew only too well what she was giving up. Her heart was wrung but her tongue stayed still. She was afraid of being hurt again. Trust wasn’t for the faint-hearted.

  ‘Ivy?’

  ‘I’ve been hurt before, Adam, too much to bear. I don’t want to go there again.’

  He looked at her, and nodded, waiting for her to go on.

  ‘Sure, I wanted to be a jillaroo, but more than that, I wanted to be needed for something. Needed by someone. At first when I came here I just wanted to spend time with horses again, like I did when I was little. Before my dad left me. But then you …’ Ivy choked and swallowed down the tears that started. She took a deep breath. ‘You seemed to want me around for me. I felt like you needed me. I wanted to prove that I could do something good enough for you to want me to stay.’

  ‘You do me good every time you offer up a smile,’ Adam whispered. She saw the corners of his mouth turn up, but he sounded broken. Perhaps he couldn’t decide between them. Perhaps Grace was right: she was only getting in the way.

  Ivy took in the sadness of the beautiful night. It was more poignant for Ivy than Adam knew. Yes, she would do what Grace had said she should do. But if she was doing what was right, then why did it feel all wrong?

  ‘Ivy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want to give you something.’

  Ivy looked at him, glanced down, and saw there was nothing in his hands. She met his gaze, waiting for him to go on.

  ‘I want to give you something. Something you can remember, long after you’ve gone.’ And he grabbed her in his arms then, filling every empty space of her heart. His lips were on her lips, and his arms were tight. They wound ropes around her waist, pulled her snug, and held her tight. And she was returning the gift of his kiss with all that she had. It was an ending that should have been a beginning. It was truth in the face of duty; acceptance that the moment was all that they had. It was hot white light in the surrounding dark. It was so utterly lovely, this beginning—this end—the realisation of a lightning strike that came without warning and blazed a bright flame.

  It was the phone that broke the stillness and Adam’s arms hesitated, then dropped to his side. He stood there, motionless, as though he didn’t want to answer the call. He sighed at the interruption, unlocked the deadbolt and picked up the receiver.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  Ivy could hear a woman’s voice on the other end of the phone, then Adam’s alarmed response. ‘You can’t just take him back. Why? Because he’s happy here with me, that’s why. Why do you have to go and do this to me? Have you asked Michael what he’d like to do?’ He crumpled onto the lounge, one hand holding up his head. ‘You can’t just take him, Rachael. I’m his father.’

  He turned to Ivy, desperate. Like he was asking for help.

  What could she do?

  �
��Well, can I at least talk to him? Can I just talk to him please?’

  His voice broke. He pleaded. He was being made to give up his child for the second time. But his voice was raw as he begged the woman he had once pledged his life to.

  He demanded, ‘What, are you going to ask me for money every month just so I can keep my son? You took a thousand dollars from the drawer already. You think our son is a bargaining tool? What do you want the money for? Rachael, what on earth has got into you? I want to know what’s going on.’

  And long after Rachael had hung up, Adam sat in the dark, phone in his hand, until Ivy took it and rested it once more in the cradle.

  Adam slumped, broken. Ivy sat down at his side. She remembered the woman at the Twilight Meeting torn by emotions she didn’t share with Ivy regarding Michael, and Ivy was frayed by the secret of these two people in a tug-of-war for their son. When Adam rested his head against her shoulder, it was Ivy who broke and cried. The loss of a child was a dreadful tragedy, however it came about.

  ‘I never knew that in having a son, it would give me so much pain. I only ever wanted him with me, on any terms.’

  Ivy had no words to give. They sat in a huddle in the dark. Adam was wooden, wordless, staring out at a future without Michael, once again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  They sat until it grew light and morning spilled over the distant horizon and shone in through the windows. Ivy opened her eyes just a crack. Her lids scratched like egg shells. She rubbed away sleep and realised that she was still curled up against Adam. Ivy’s body protested as she uncurled her legs, fluffing up her hair a little as she sat up. Adam blinked, owlish in the early light. She smiled and he returned one of his own, but it was feeble at best.

  The events of the night unravelled like a slide show of emotion over Adam’s features and he put his hands over his face. She took his hand and brought it down from his eyes, so she could see him. He pulled on her grasp lightly, then with strength so she folded into his arms.