Dear Banjo

by Sasha Wasley

  That day, things were a little quieter. Willow finished work at dusk and resolved not to go near her computer again. She needed some downtime. She ate with Free and Barry in the station kitchen, after which Free disappeared to paint and her father went to bed. Willow wandered into the lounge room and dropped onto the couch to stare at a documentary on birdlife in Africa.

  Maybe she should visit Tom? But it was already eight. She watched another twenty minutes of the documentary and came to a decision. She would put all her work on hold in the morning and go and see him then. Aside from the fact that she missed him desperately, she had to tell him she wanted to try a real relationship with him so he could decide if he still wanted that. She would sit him down and have a grown up discussion with him about the possibility of trying a new way of being together. He might tell her he was with Phoebe now. Willow squeezed her hands into fists, considering that possibility. Maybe it would be better to wait and find out if there was anything between him and the pretty girl in town. A text message buzzed through on her phone, making her jump. As though he’d heard her thinking about him, it was Tom.

  Can you believe it? The Matrix Reloaded is on TV tonight! No pizza or soy-based cheese, but given I’m stuck on the couch, it might finally be time to watch it.

  She re-read his words, thinking about that cardboard soy cheese she used to eat and Tom’s pizza prank all those years ago. God, why did she always take everything so seriously when she was younger? She always had to be in control. If there was one thing the past few weeks had taught her, it was that true control wasn’t possible.

  Willow collected a box of water crackers and some cheese from the kitchen and as an afterthought picked up a bottle of red wine. She left Free a note in case she got worried, and snatched up her keys. Then she jumped in a car and drove the few minutes to Quintilla, willing herself to be brave.

  Cathy answered the door to her knock, dressed in a bathrobe. ‘Hello, love. Is everything all right?’

  ‘Hi, Cathy. Sorry to come over so late. Tom said he was watching the Sunday-night movie and I thought I’d keep him company.’

  ‘Oh! All right.’ Cathy let her in. ‘Bob and I were thinking of turning in for the night. I was going to get Tom settled in bed before we went.’

  ‘What does that involve?’

  ‘He’s reasonably independent. He’s got his crutches. He just needs a bit of help getting to his feet from the couch because of the leg brace, and then he can do the rest himself.’

  ‘How about I see him off to bed before I leave?’ Willow offered. ‘Then you can go now, and he can stay up and watch the movie.’

  Cathy hesitated and for a nervous moment Willow thought the woman might refuse. But she nodded. ‘Yes, that’d be good.’

  She said goodnight to Cathy and found Tom in front of the television, neoprenebraced leg up on the coffee table, crutches resting beside him on the couch.

  ‘Was that the door I heard, Mum?’ he asked without turning around. ‘One of the staff?’

  ‘No, just me,’ Willow said, and he whipped his head around so fast she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d done himself another injury. ‘But the good news is, the cheese is real this time.’ She showed him.

  It took him a moment to respond, he was so surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I thought your message was an invitation.’ She put down the food and wine. ‘Don’t get up,’ she joked weakly, ‘I know where the wineglasses are.’

  She went and collected two wineglasses from the spare room, and a knife and plate for the cheese, and came back to join him on the couch. It was a big couch but she sat close to him just like they always had as kids. He was still watching her with startled eyes.

  She hesitated before pouring him a glass. ‘Are you allowed to drink alcohol?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m off the hard drugs now.’ He sounded dazed.

  She poured the drinks, acutely aware of his gaze on her. Willow nodded at the television. ‘Look, it’s starting. You going to take it off mute?’

  Tom fumbled with the remote control. Willow handed him a glass and cut a few slices of cheese, arranging them with crackers on a plate balanced on their legs, side-by-side. Then she settled back beside him and they watched the movie in silence. Tom didn’t seem particularly engrossed, however, and she had trouble concentrating. They ate some of the crackers, more to avoid speaking than anything else. Finally, she moved the plate back to the coffee table and sat back, letting her hand fall alongside his on the couch so the backs of their hands were touching. He tensed up beside her but Willow left her hand there. She stared at the TV, not taking in a word Keanu Reeves said. Finally, after a few minutes of this torture, she took a deep breath and moved so her hand slipped into his. And just like that, they were holding hands.

  He gripped hers firmly but still they sat in silence. Another tense minute and he finally spoke.

  ‘Banjo,’ he said in a ragged whisper, ‘what are you doing?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed, tears welling.

  He squeezed her hand until she turned to face him. All his loyal, honest, beautiful love was in his eyes. Her tears spilled and he hastily released his hand from hers to wipe her cheeks.

  ‘What’s going on?’ He sounded almost breathless.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I can’t lose you.’

  The expression on his face when she said this was such pure, astonished joy that she couldn’t regret anything. She could see he wanted to kiss her and braced herself nervously, but instead of moving in closer he touched her face again, brushing his fingers tenderly across her cheek. Then he shifted his arm to put it around her, pulling her close so she was resting against his strong body. She grew warm, her body tingling under his touch, and shyly stretched her own arm across his stomach, gripping his waist. They were cuddling. Sitting on a couch, watching a movie together, cuddling. He felt so warm and strong beside her. He smelled so good.

  It was scary but simultaneously it felt right.

  When the movie ended, she was no less tingly or warm – in fact, her body was having its own localised heat-storms. It shocked her how quickly she’d gone from awkward apprehension to physical longing. She wouldn’t have objected if Tom had tried something more than just holding her close. It might even have been welcome. Willow couldn’t summon the courage to try anything herself, however, and his broken leg was probably a lucky thing because they couldn’t really get physical – a reprieve as well as a frustration.

  A little reluctantly, she extricated herself from the embrace and stood up. ‘I promised your mum I’d help you to bed.’

  ‘Oh, okay. I can probably manage by myself. I’m getting used to heaving myself up and down.’ He smiled at her. ‘But then, you did promise Mum.’

  She laughed. ‘I did.’

  She moved the coffee table back and got his crutches ready before helping him to his feet. Then she got him set up on the crutches and followed as he limped through the house.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked when he headed for the wing she knew as the rumpus room. They’d played many a game of ping-pong there in years gone by.

  ‘To my room.’

  ‘Did you shift rooms?’

  He glanced back. ‘Yeah, like, almost a decade ago. If I’m going to live in the same house as my parents, I need a bigger space than my childhood bedroom, and preferably not right next door to theirs.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she said as he opened the door. ‘Wish I had that option.’

  It was a generous room with a double bed, lit by a bedside lamp. There were a couple of block-mounted photos on the walls that looked like aerial shots of Quintilla. He had a laptop on a desk, and shelves full of books, old CDs and other bits and pieces, including boab pods and two or three large seashells.

  ‘Not much like your old room,’ she commented, drawing the curtains for him. ‘No dirt-bike posters or Xbox games.’

  ‘Oh, the
old Xbox is still hiding around here somewhere,’ he said.

  ‘Hah. But none of the kid stuff I remember being in your old room.’

  ‘I’ve still got some kid stuff.’

  She looked at him quizzically and he nodded towards the shelves. She went over for a closer look and realised the boab pods had carvings on them.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she said slowly, examining one. It featured a deformed-looking pony and was signed with a wobbly W. ‘You kept them?’

  ‘Every single one. Even your cubist emu.’

  ‘Hoarder.’

  He laughed, discarding the crutches and sinking onto the bed, but then the laughter disappeared. ‘It was the only thing I had left of you.’

  ‘I don’t know how I could have done that to you,’ she said in a low voice.

  He reached out a hand and she crossed the room to where he was sitting. ‘You know, you don’t have to be sorry you didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about you. That’s just life.’ He watched her, his eyes cautious. ‘And you shouldn’t feel sorry for me or try to change the way you feel to make it fit what I want.’

  ‘That’s not it.’ She sat beside him, searching for the right place to start explaining. ‘Mum’s illness was so fast. One day she was fine and then three months later she was gone. You were the next closest person to me and I s’pose I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be taken away from me as well.’

  ‘I saw how much pain you were in, but I didn’t know what was going on inside your head. The way you talked about our future – I fooled myself into thinking you wanted me, too.’

  ‘Maybe I did. I’m not even sure any more.’

  He took her hand. ‘I didn’t hate you for not loving me back. Not ever. When you left, I was just angry you refused to patch things up. I thought I wasn’t worth enough for you to bother. It took me a long time to accept that.’ He gave a slight laugh. ‘I’m not sure I ever really did accept it.’

  ‘Good, because you were wrong. You were worth a lot to me, so much that when I thought our friendship was under threat, I completely freaked out. Hence not reading your letters.’

  He shook his head. ‘You know, when you told me you never read them it was like – instant healing. Everything suddenly made sense. I realised why I’d been so angry, why I kept fighting the idea that you’d turned into this cold, heartless person who deliberately left me waiting at the eastern gate. Because you didn’t do that. You didn’t know. There was this big, jagged hole in my heart for ten years and when you told me about not reading those letters it healed over, just like that, without even leaving any scars. Thank God you came back and told me the truth.’

  She was overcome with gratitude for his forgiveness, and the tears spilled again. She buried her face in his shoulder and he held her close.

  ‘Hey, Banjo,’ he whispered, stroking her hair. ‘It’s okay.’

  But after a couple of minutes it was time to pull herself together. She shook her hair back, wiped her eyes and jumped up.

  ‘Right, what else do you need? A glass of water? Help to get into your pyjamas?’ She flushed as she realised what she’d just said and Tom fought a smile.

  ‘I can manage the mechanics of getting myself to bed,’ he said. ‘Just come here and lie down with me for a few minutes before you go.’

  She helped arrange his heavy leg brace and he got settled. Then she crawled onto the bed next to him, snuggling into his arms.

  ‘So,’ Tom said, ‘what are we doing now? What is this – between us?’

  ‘Um . . . ’ The room seemed so still and quiet suddenly. She forced herself to form the words. ‘I’m letting things change. If you still want that.’

  There was a silence so long she wondered for a second if she was too late. Phoebe, her heart whispered fearfully. Then he shifted slightly and she looked up to see a huge grin on his face. Her feelings for him bubbled up from deep inside her at the sight of it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I have to do this.’ He fist-pumped. ‘Yessss!’

  Willow broke into helpless giggles. ‘I do not deserve you, Tom Forrest.’

  ‘I know. But keep working at it. I’m patient – dear holy hell, am I patient.’

  ‘I thought I might have missed my chance,’ she said. ‘I heard you were dating a girl in town. Phoebe, from the bank.’

  He snorted. ‘Briggsy tried to set me up with her but I was a blind-date failure. She’s a nice girl, don’t get me wrong, but there was no chemistry. Zilch. I couldn’t even be myself with her because I felt like I was being unfaithful to you. She tried to give me a hug goodbye after a night out at the pub and I didn’t exactly reciprocate. She said, Oh, you’re one of those physically unaffectionate farm blokes. I could hardly tell her I would be physically affectionate if she was the right girl, but she wasn’t, because the right girl was about 120 kilometres away at that very moment, probably staring at a spreadsheet or reading about bovine intestinal parasites.’

  ‘You have strange taste.’

  Tom brushed loose hair back from her cheek. ‘Not strange. Singular. Hey!’ His face brightened and he attempted to struggle upright. ‘Let’s go outside and look at the stars! We can take my junior astronomer telescope.’

  ‘No! We just got you into bed. Wait until you’re better. Then we’ll do lots of nights under the stars together. I promise.’

  ‘I sleep under the stars with you every night, Banjo.’

  It was a puzzling statement but he had settled back and pulled her close again so she let it slide.

  ‘Tom, I should warn you, I’m pretty emotionally stunted. I’m going to try – really try hard – to get this right, but I might mess up sometimes. It’s scary for me.’

  He squeezed her. ‘We’ve got all the time in the world. If you don’t want to, you know, take things any further at this stage, that’s cool.’

  ‘Jeez, I’m emotionally stunted, not physically stunted. I’m not sure I want to wait very long before we take things further.’

  Did I really just say that? She was proud of herself.

  ‘Holy shit,’ he groaned. ‘Why do I have to have a broken leg now?’

  She laughed and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her heart raced with nervous fear but she wanted his kiss, too. Digging deep for some courage, Willow brought her lips to his. It was Tom, her Tom, she was kissing, but it could not have been more different from the time when she was eighteen. This time there was no unpleasant shock, no terror or betrayal – no sense of anything being ruined. If anything, it felt like something was being created, rising up like a green shoot pushes up from under dried, cracked earth after the first rain.

  Then her thoughts dissipated as she got lost in the kiss – his warm lips, the lightly scratching stubble, his tongue gently tasting her mouth, the way he slipped a warm hand under her hair, onto the back of her neck to pull her closer.

  Finally, she lay her head down on his shoulder again. He turned to press his lips to her forehead.

  ‘Stay tonight,’ he said, his voice full of emotion.

  ‘I can’t. Your parents. My dad.’

  He sighed. ‘Yeah, all right, we’ll break them in gently. But stay a bit longer?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what I meant when I said I sleep under the stars with Banjo every night?’

  She frowned. ‘I thought you were just being sentimental.’

  Tom was amused. ‘You really are a tough nut to crack. I can see I’m going to have to control any sentimental urges. But actually I was being literal.’ He reached over to his side table and switched off the lamp. ‘Look up.’

  After a few moments she saw what he was showing her. Hundreds of little points of greenish-yellow light, like she’d always imagined a glow-worm cave might look. Star stickers. He’d used those glow-in-the-dark star stickers from the junior astronomer’s kit she’d given him.

  ‘You’ve done real constellations,’ she gasped, recognising Orion’s belt.

  ‘Yeah, and o
ne special one in the middle.’

  She had to search for it but finally she spotted it. It was quite small, so you’d only notice it if you were looking for it. A letter B, formed in stars. And then, just to its right, an A. She located the N, J and O, laughing softly.

  Willow decided she could get used to Tom’s sentimental urges.

  After a wonderful long night, Willow went home at two a.m. full of warm excitement. All those letters – those attempts to express her feelings and those plans to have a mature discussion with Tom – and all she’d needed to do was let her hand touch his. She slept in long past her usual five a.m., scrambling awake to get some work done at six and only stopping to breathe around nine, when everyone disappeared for morning smoko. She checked her phone.

  I’ve got an idea, Tom had sent. It involves you, me, a swag, the eastern gate and the stars. You in?

  Only one swag? she replied, grinning.

  Cosier.

  We won’t fit.

  Is that a challenge?

  No, it’s a hazard control, you lunatic.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were scared, Banjo.

  Scared of being crushed to death in a swag? Maybe a little.

  I miss you. Come around ASAP, he wrote.

  She couldn’t resist, and abandoned the cattle count in favour of a short visit to Quintilla. When she turned into the driveway, Samantha Burrows was driving a station ute towards the main road. The woman waved and slowed down so Willow braked, opened her car window and called a greeting.

  ‘You’re here again!’ Samantha said.

  ‘Yeah. Just thought I’d swing by and see how Tom’s holding up.’

  ‘He holds up just fine,’ Samantha said with a smirk.

  For a moment Willow filled up with outrage and had to bite back the words she wanted say, but then the anger ebbed. Of course Samantha was after Tom. Who wouldn’t be? But the fact was, as of last night, he was with her. She couldn’t help a smile.

  ‘You take it easy on the ride into town,’ she called. ‘Catch you later, Sam!’

  She didn’t miss the curious look Samantha shot her as she moved the car on towards the house. Tom answered her knock much faster than she thought possible, given the crutches, and as soon as the door was shut, snatched her in to hold her tight. His kiss was almost astonishingly good – like that first drink of cool water after a hot dusty day on muster.