Two Man Station

by Lisa Henry

  He showered and brushed his teeth.

  He changed into basketball shorts and a baggy shirt.

  He picked up his keys again and locked the house behind him.

  Jason was waiting.

  Sandra gave Jason an odd look when he arrived at work at two the next day, still wearing a faint smile that was a hangover from the night before. I know you don’t like Gio much, he imagined telling her, but the things he can do with his tongue!

  “Where’s Gio?” he asked. “Did he catch up with Harvey Ferguson?”

  “No.” Sandra readjusted her glasses. “He’s out at a trespassing complaint. He went around to all of the usual haunts this morning, but Harvey’s apparently laying low.”

  “He’ll turn up.”

  “That’s the problem,” Sandra agreed. “He always does.”

  Jason nodded.

  “Your mail’s on your desk,” Sandra said. “And Len and I are going to dinner tonight at the RSL. It’s his birthday.”

  Jason froze.

  “I told you about this last week,” Sandra reminded him. She pursed her lips. “I love Taylor, Jason, but I’d prefer to go for a nice meal with my husband on our own.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Jason headed for his office. “I’ll sort something out for Taylor.”

  He winced as she muttered under her breath about not just sorting it out for tonight, in a voice that he knew she’d intended him to hear. He escaped into his office and closed the door behind him.

  Yeah. He needed to sort something out. For tonight, and . . . and for the future. Sandra was obviously at the end of her rope, and Jason couldn’t really blame her.

  He sat at his desk and composed a text to Kane’s mother asking if Taylor could stay at their place tonight. He’d asked a couple of times in the past, but he didn’t want to push it because Taylor wasn’t a kid who had a big group of friends. He seemed to be wired to only have one friend at a time. It had been Kane for about two years now, and Jason didn’t want to complicate that. He didn’t want Taylor to lose a friend because the friend’s parents felt they were getting taken advantage of.

  Sometimes Jason felt as unqualified to successfully parent as he had on the day Taylor was born. He still remembered when Taylor was a few months old and he and Alana had taken him to his first playgroup. Jason had walked into violent disturbances with armed antagonists and felt less intimidated. All those parents.

  “What are we supposed to do?” He’d fiddled with the straps on Taylor’s pram just to look busy.

  “We smile and nod, Jason. We smile and nod.”

  Jason exhaled heavily as he sent the text to Kane’s mum. It was a lot to ask. Hey, can my kid stay with yours after school? And can you feed him and put him to sleep somewhere comfortable until I come and get him at ten? Possibly later, if anything goes to shit.

  He worded it slightly better than that. He hoped.

  God. Sandra was right.

  He’d swing by Saint Patrick’s tomorrow maybe, and ask the ladies there if they could recommend anyone who was looking to pick up some extra cash, and who didn’t mind if Taylor sometimes had to stay overnight. It would hopefully be a step in the right direction. Right up until he had to break it to Taylor, probably. He wasn’t going to be happy at all about staying with someone he didn’t know.

  Jason sighed and began to go through the stack of mail on his desk.

  Most of it was unimportant. A Certificate of Thanks from the school for Gio’s presence at the fete. An invitation to the next council meeting. An angry letter from Mrs. McKinney about her neighbour. Mrs. McKinney had been writing letters of complaint about her neighbour for over thirty years. Jason supposed he was glad she put pen to paper, and didn’t call. He’d go and visit her later just to smooth down her feathers.

  He inspected his next envelope. OIC, Richmond Police Station, Richmond, QLD, 4822.

  Jason opened it, and a sealed packet fell onto his desk.

  Ratsak.

  And scrawled across the packet in black marker: for your rat problem.

  Jason stared at it for a moment, the blood roaring in his skull. Then he rose from his desk. “Sandra? Sandra!”

  She opened his door. “What?”

  “Get me the station camera and an evidence bag.”

  Sandra’s eyes widened as her gaze fell on the Ratsak. “What the hell is that?”

  “Fuck them,” Jason said, rage coiling in his gut. “We don’t take their shit up here. They want to bring me into this? They’re fucking welcome.”

  Nobody—nobody fucked with Gio.

  Not when Jason had promised he had his back.

  Sandra hurried away, and Jason picked up his phone and dialled. Gordy, the DDO in Townsville, picked up after only a few rings and listened quietly while Jason told him about the rat poison.

  “Well, there’s no way to prove it was them,” he said.

  “It’s postmarked Southport.”

  “That’s not proof.”

  Jason’s anger rose. “Gordy, what—”

  “Jesus Christ. Don’t tell me I have to explain evidentiary standards and the burden of proof to a bloody sergeant of police?” Gordy gave Jason a moment to seethe. “Of course it’s them. You know it and I know it. You just can’t prove it’s them. That’s how intimidation tactics work.”

  “So what? I’m supposed to take this?”

  “You’re very angry,” Gordy said. “This isn’t the first thing, is it?”

  “It’s the first thing directed at me,” Jason said, thinking of the dog treats Gio had received, and whatever had been in the envelope he hadn’t let Jason see.

  “Then put in your report,” Gordy said. “And I’ll back you in taking it as far as it goes. So long as you know, it’s not going to go far.”

  “Are you fucking serious, Gordy?”

  “Perfectly,” Gordy said. “Jason, there are two outcomes here. Maybe an investigation gets them to back off, or maybe it doesn’t. But I’ll tell you right now that there is no way an investigation will identify the culprits. They wouldn’t have sent it if it could be traced.”

  “So I’m supposed to just cop it?” Jason asked, rubbing a hand over his forehead to try to stave off the headache he was sure was coming. “Gio’s supposed to just cop it?”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, Sergeant,” Gordy said, his tone hardening. “I already told you to put in a report, and I already told you I will back you as far as it goes. And when the investigation inevitably fails, then my advice would be for Senior Constable Valeri to get himself a psychologist and a solicitor, and sue the Service for failing to provide a safe working environment.”

  “Fuck me, Gordy!” Jason shook his head. “Seriously? He doesn’t want a fucking payout. He wants to do his job!”

  “They push him far enough, and he’ll change his tune,” Gordy said. “The bullies want him gone because they think he’s a dog, and the bosses want him gone because they think he’s a troublemaker. Pretty soon a payout will start to look like a good option.”

  “Not to Gio,” Jason said. “Not while I’ve got his back.”

  Gordy was silent for a long moment, and Jason wondered if those words had conveyed more than he’d intended. Then Gordy hummed. “Your attitude’s changed since last time we talked.”

  “Last time we talked you told me there are more than two sides to every story. I finally heard his.”

  “Okay,” Gordy said. “Then send me your report.”

  It was a laid-back shift. Jason refused to use the q-word to describe it, even in his head, because that was a sure way to turn everything to shit in a heartbeat, but it was definitely the opposite of busy. He stopped in to see Janey, and found her sober and surprisingly cooperative. She said she didn’t know where Harvey was staying—not that Jason believed that for a second—and promised she’d call if he turned up. They talked more about her plans to move to Gympie to live with her mum, and Jason pushed a little harder, certain that he could get funding off some departmen
t or another to help with moving costs. By the end of the visit, Janey looked almost convinced.

  “You could do that?” she asked, her hope clearly warring with her suspicion. “You could get bus tickets for me and all the kids?”

  “Yes, Janey, I can do that.”

  Janey chewed her lower lip.

  “Give me your mum’s number,” Jason said. “Let me call her tomorrow and talk to her about it, okay?”

  Janey seemed to waver.

  “Come on,” Jason said. “It’d be good for the kids, Janey. Don’t you want them to be better off?”

  It was a blatant fucking guilt trip, but Jason didn’t care as long as it worked. And the kids would be better off with their parents at opposite ends of the state. Living with their grandmother would be more stable than this.

  Janey got her phone and read the number out to him.

  Jason was feeling like he’d actually accomplished something by the time his shift ended. With Patricia Howe thinking of moving to Rockhampton to live with her daughter, and Janey Ferguson almost convinced to go to Gympie to live with her mother, that would be at least two victims of domestic violence removed from the immediate reach of their abusers. Not a perfect solution, but Jason could only work with what he was given.

  And speaking of not-perfect solutions . . . Jason had stopped by Saint Patrick’s and spoken to several of the ladies there, and they’d suggested a few people who might be willing and able to watch Taylor from time to time. Jason planned to follow their suggestions up when he got the chance. Hopefully by the time he’d found someone, and vetted them, he would have figured out some way to tell Taylor what was going on. He knew exactly how Taylor was going to react as well. This was probably going to cost Jason as much in iTunes gift cards as it would in babysitting fees.

  He picked Taylor up from Kane’s house at just past ten, thanked Kane’s parents, and headed home. Taylor climbed straight into bed—Jason wasn’t sure he’d entirely woken up on the drive—and crashed out again.

  Jason sent a text to Gio and got to work on Taylor’s school lunch. He was scraping Vegemite over the SAOs when he heard Gio climbing the back steps. The screen door squeaked open.

  “Hey,” he said as Gio appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  Gio scratched his stomach, his T-shirt riding up. He gave a sleepy smile. “Hey.”

  “Were you asleep?” Jason grabbed the bread to make Taylor’s sandwich for big lunch. “Sorry.”

  “’S’okay.” Gio stepped into the kitchen, and leaned against the bench. “This is better than sleep.”

  “Watching me make sandwiches? Yeah, it’s pretty hot.”

  Gio’s smile grew, and colour rose in his cheeks. “It is, actually, in a weird way.”

  Jason set the butter knife aside and reached out for Gio. He caught his fingers in the elastic of Gio’s track pants, and pulled him close. “Yeah?” He kissed him. “Is this doing it for you?”

  He registered the movement over Gio’s shoulder a fraction of a second too late.

  “Dad?” Taylor asked, wide-eyed. “Dad, what are you doing?”

  Shit.

  Gio stepped away from him, keeping his back to Taylor. He shot Jason a frantic look.

  Shit shit shit.

  “Hey, mate,” Jason said, his heart thumping wildly. “I thought you were in bed.”

  Taylor looked from Jason to Gio and then back again. He gripped the doorjamb with his skinny fingers. His forehead was creased. “Dad?”

  “Just a second, Taylor.” Jason wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t. “Gio, I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yeah.” Gio backed away, keeping his gaze averted. “See you then, boss.”

  Even Taylor scrunched up his nose at that.

  Gio escaped out the back door.

  Jason stared at his son. Ten years old and the most terrifying thing Jason had ever faced. Because he couldn’t lose Taylor. Not over this.

  Taylor stared back, his eyes big. Then he unpeeled his fingers from the doorjamb and stepped inside the kitchen. “Dad,” he said tentatively. “Dad, I know what gay is.”

  Jason glimpsed the faint scar on his chin.

  “You are ten. You don’t have any facial hair.”

  Taylor took another step towards him. “I know that it’s okay to be gay.”

  You are ten. How are you so bloody smart?

  “I’m not gay, Taylor,” Jason said, keeping his voice steady. “I’m bi. That means—”

  “That means you can love Mum and Gio,” Taylor said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

  “Gio’s my friend,” Jason said, a burst of fear fluttering in his gut. Love. Alana. Those things were worlds bigger than his sexuality. Those were things that deserved their own discussion, and not one that was tangled up in what had happened with Gio. He didn’t know how to tackle this. “I don’t— I’m not replacing your mum, Taylor.”

  Taylor flinched so suddenly that Jason panicked for a moment that he couldn’t have said anything worse. Maybe Taylor hadn’t even worried about that until Jason had put the thought in his head. Jesus. What the bloody hell was he doing?

  “Mate, I feel like I need to have two really big, really different talks to you about this.” Jason put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “And one of those talks is about being bi, and what you think about that, and the other talk is about Gio, and what you saw happening tonight.”

  Taylor chewed his bottom lip, his storm-cloud eyes narrowing with worry. “And it’s a school night too, Dad!”

  “Yeah,” Jason said, swallowing down tears of relief. Because his kid, Jesus. If Taylor figured being up late was the biggest crisis of the night, then maybe everything wasn’t as fucked up as Jason feared it was. “It’s a school night too.”

  Taylor wrinkled his nose, and Jason pulled him into a grateful hug.

  They stayed up and talked for way longer than was advisable on a school night. They sat on the couch, with a movie playing on the TV so that Taylor had something to watch if he didn’t want to look at Jason while they talked. Taylor didn’t seem bothered though. He asked about boys and girls, and if Jason liked boys one time and girls another time.

  “It’s like you and ice cream, Taylor. Even if I’m eating chocolate ice cream, I can still like strawberry at the same time.”

  They had ice cream.

  “You can like other things apart from ice cream too,” Taylor said, licking his spoon.

  “You can like whatever you want to like,” Jason agreed.

  Taylor pondered that for a moment. “I don’t like rice pudding.”

  “How did this turn into a discussion about desserts?” Jason asked, elbowing Taylor in the ribs. He almost regretted not following the dessert conversation when Taylor turned the subject back around.

  “Is Gio your boyfriend?” he asked.

  “That’s not something we’ve talked about yet,” Jason said.

  “Why not?” Taylor wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his pyjama top. Then he looked outraged. “Dad! You have to ask someone if they want to be your girlfriend or your boyfriend before you kiss them!”

  “Oh, that’s how it works.” Jason couldn’t help his smile. He slung an arm around Taylor, and almost wore the plate of ice cream for his trouble. “Listen, mate, about Gio . . . it’s really important that you don’t tell anyone about us, okay?”

  Taylor narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  Because I don’t know how he feels. Because there is so much else going on with him. Because this is a small town. Because if you come out in a town like this, you need to know someone else has got your back. Someone apart from your ten-year-old son.

  “Because it’s complicated, mate, and I wish I could give you a better answer than that, but it’s just complicated. With work, and with the people in town.”

  With you.

  Did Gio even want someone like Jason? Jason was a hard sell. Not just because of his job—at least Gio would have no trouble understanding the pressures that cam
e from that—but because of his son. His first priority would always be his son. And that was a hell of an ask for any potential new partner.

  “I like Gio,” Taylor said at last, shovelling another mouthful of half-melted ice cream into his mouth. “He’s cool.”

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “He’s pretty cool.”

  It was past midnight when Taylor went back to bed. Later, after finally finishing packing Taylor’s lunch for tomorrow, Jason passed his room and found him hiding under the covers with a torch on.

  “Taylor,” he said. “It’s so late. Come on.”

  Taylor threw the covers back, pointing the torch towards him. The beam arced across the ceiling before it hit Jason in the face. “I was reading.”

  “Bedtime,” Jason said, shielding his eyes.

  Taylor muttered under his breath and flicked his torch off. “You used to be cool, Dad!”

  “I was never cool, mate.”

  Taylor’s snort of laughter followed him down the hallway.

  Jason brushed his teeth and went to bed. He sent a text to Gio: Sorry about tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  He looked at Alana’s smiling face in her photograph and, like always, felt the ache of no longer having her in his life. Of no longer having her by his side, when he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing or how the hell to brazen it out.

  “Smile and nod, Jason,” he heard her say. “Smile and nod.”

  Gio started work at eight and spent the first half an hour washing the cars. Rust-coloured mud covered the concrete by the time he’d hosed out under the wheel arches, and Gio’s shirt was wet with water and sweat. He had a spare inside. Or, if not, at home. At about eight thirty he saw Taylor leaving for school. He looked like some sort of water bird with his long skinny legs and his bulky backpack. He made his way slowly across the grass-stubbled yard, dragging a stick through the dirt for the benefit of the cat that watched him avidly, following him at a safe distance.

  Gio waited until Taylor had made it to the road and headed towards the school, and then he turned the water off, coiled the hose up, and walked across to Jason’s house. He climbed the steps and made it onto the front veranda just as Jason opened the door.