Heart of Gold

by Fiona Palmer

  Dave clapped his large hand on her shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.’

  When they ate their smoko Lindsay wasn’t as cheerful as when he’d started. They all sat on old wooden chairs or milk crates or on the ground, around a picnic table covered with food.

  CJ grabbed a handful of slices and biscuits and sat next to Lindsay, stretching her legs out in front of her. ‘How’s it going?’ She was almost too afraid to ask him.

  ‘Fine,’ he said gruffly.

  Three minutes later she caught him rubbing his arm and wrist. Her stomach felt like it housed a whole nest of fire ants. How much more of this could he take? Would he seriously try to finish the day, no matter how painful it was? It sure wasn’t her place to tell him what to do.

  Lindsay gave her a wink as he got up. ‘See ya in there.’

  ‘This isn’t going to be good. I feel for the bugger,’ Jules whispered, absentmindedly rubbing the scar on his hand.

  ‘You’re right, Jules,’ she said. ‘But this is the only way he’s going to know for sure.’

  Lindsay put up a long fight. He was shearing slower than a novice now and she was sure she could hear him groaning in pain with each blow – or was it her imagination?

  Clunk. She heard the handpiece hit the ground as he turned off his machine and pushed his ewe down the chute. Instead of walking into the pen, he jumped down from the raised floor and left the shed. Jules, Dave and Irene all looked at her with wide eyes, heavy with sorrow and concern. She hurriedly finished her sheep and went to find him. Her chest was heavy and tight.

  She didn’t have to search far – she heard the thonk and bang of an empty drench container he’d just kicked into the metal fence.

  He saw her coming and quickly turned his back so he could wipe his face.

  She came up behind him and put her arms around his waist. ‘It’s just me, babe. You don’t have to hide. I’m here.’ She felt the rise and fall of his chest under her hands. He took deep breaths to steady himself before turning around in her arms. The tears were still on his lower lids, threatening to fall.

  ‘Oh, Linds.’ She rested her head on his chest and held him tight.

  ‘I can’t do any more,’ he said, trembling. ‘The handpiece feels like a truck and my wrist is aching so badly. I took a heap of inflammatory pills too.’ Lindsay rubbed his arm and they both looked at it like a defective toy.

  ‘I’m gonna have to face facts that I can’t shear full-time.’ He looked into her eyes, and she almost gasped at the raw ache pouring out of them. ‘What else is there for me? Go back to the farm?’

  Her heart stung; she couldn’t take the hurt swimming around in his fresh tears. Her hands stroked his back, trying to soothe him. She wished she could do more, but her own tears were welling in her eyes. That damn lump was back in her throat and it hurt when she spoke.

  ‘You don’t have to go back. We’ll work something out.’ It was almost a croak. It wouldn’t help him if she let herself cry, so she took a long, shaky breath. ‘How about we set up a shearing school, like you always wanted? I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I’m sure Doug would help us,’ she said. ‘I know it’s something you’ve always wanted to do and it’s something the shearing industry needs. You don’t have to leave the shed. There are other possibilities.’

  Lindsay gathered himself. ‘How would we do that? We have bugger-all money. That was just a pipe dream, CJ. It’d never happen.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Well, I know one thing – I’d prefer to be back on the farm than working a desk job, so maybe I’ll have to consider it.’ He laughed a painful laugh. ‘Dad would be happy at least. Maybe I could find out about my real father while I’m at it.’

  She was about to say that she wouldn’t be happy if he left but he spoke first.

  ‘You’d better get back in there. Sheep won’t shear themselves, you know!’ he said with a fake smile. He spun her around and pushed her off towards the shed. She tried to turn but he kept steering her into the shed. ‘Come on. I’m gonna pack my stuff up and then I guess I’ll go help on the floor.’

  At the last run of the day Lindsay stood towards the side of the shed with a floor scraper in his hands. His wrist still ached. He looked down at his offending body part and flexed his stiff fingers. Lindsay felt his anger building, like someone had been fuelling the fire raging inside. He wanted to punch a wall, to hurt his injured arm. He hated it and wanted it gone. He couldn’t wait to be out of the shed and drinking a nice cold beer or ten. Each day that went past was just another day he couldn’t shear. CJ was getting damn good. Every time she left in the morning, he’d smile and say goodbye, but as the door swung shut so did his smile. He’d lie in bed just about all day sometimes, only jumping up for a shower or to do some housework before CJ got home. He could sit for hours on end, his mind whirling, as he’d stare at his bloody arm. He felt like he was losing his grip on reality.

  He watched CJ now, the way she glided over the sheep. She did it with such grace and precision. Her hair was always tied up in a ponytail. Only he got to see it out at night, fanned across her pillow. She was a marvel. When it came to strength, he should take a leaf out of her book. He could watch her all day – hell, he nearly had. He knew he should feel proud for helping her get there but the hurt was too big.

  That night while CJ was in the shower he sat in the lounge next to Tom and watched Home and Away. Tom had the remote and it was his house.

  ‘G’day, Tom,’ he said as he always did before lapsing into silence while they watched the box. Never did he get a reply, besides the odd comment about crap ads. Lindsay rested his sore arm on the edge of the couch. It still throbbed, and he rubbed it gingerly. His arm felt alien to him with all its hard lumps and bumps; he felt detached from it. Lindsay glanced across at Tom. CJ looked nothing like him now. His fat gut rolled out over his black track pants like a sand bag. His grey T-shirt strained across his belly, his skin bulging through the holes in the cotton. The years hadn’t been kind to Tom. The lifeless expression on his sagging face showed his carelessness. The last ten years he’d been a burden on his family.

  I’ll never get like that, Lindsay thought to himself, but his body shuddered, unsure of his own statement.

  A week later Lindsay stumbled home from the pub to CJ’s place. It was only six o’clock but he decided to wait for her. He needed some loving to cheer his mood. He carefully watched his steps, which was hard when he seemed to have four legs. Tom opened the door and Lindsay saw his eyes pause on the bottle of scotch Lindsay held in a brown paper bag.

  ‘About bloody time,’ Tom mumbled with half a smile as he waved Lindsay in.

  Lindsay wasn’t sure how many more drinks he had, as Tom was drinking the scotch straight out of the bottle.

  Tom began to tell him an old story of his days shearing, then another about boxing. Lindsay was learning Tom was very talkative when drunk. Tom was waffling away, and Lindsay struggled to follow his slurred speech. Mind you, his own wasn’t much better.

  He heard the door bang and then CJ stood before him. ‘Hello, baaabe. I’ve been waiting for you.’

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  He didn’t like her tone. He tried to stand but wobbled back down onto the sofa.

  ‘With him?’ She pointed to her father. ‘You bastard! How could you?’

  He couldn’t mistake the betrayal he saw screaming from her eyes. It was something he’d never forget, no matter how smashed he was. He didn’t want that. He loved her. He tried getting up again to hug her but she stepped back, an angry hurt written in the set of her lips and glare in her eyes.

  Tom also rose slowly. ‘Bloody comin’ in ’ere, disturbin’ the peace.’

  Lindsay looked back to CJ, who shook her head. He reached out to her, wanting to feel the softness of her skin, but she jerked away.

  ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’

  Liquid churned in his stomach and he began to feel ill. ‘CJ… I’m…’ He blinked and she was gone.

  ‘CJ?�
��

  He turned back to Tom just as he felt pain in his face. Opening his eyes he saw carpet and realised he was lying on the floor. He’d just been hit by a drunk.

  The ground was hard as Lindsay struggled to wake up. Broken memories of being sick on the back lawn swam through his mind, along with feelings that he’d done something bad. The sun felt hot on his face. He could smell grass and something rank and heard flies buzzing nearby. Argh… and his head. It hurt more than his body and his left eye was throbbing and stuck shut. His right eye blinked open again for a brief second and tried to adjust to the light. He moved his hand, which felt numb, and used it to push himself up.

  A vision of CJ’s disappointed face sprang to his mind and he felt his stomach churn. A rug slipped off his body. Damn. She must have taken pity on him at some stage. He didn’t deserve her. He scraped back his shirt sleeve to peer at his watch through his unswollen eye. Shit, it was ten o’clock. No wonder the sun was bright.

  Lindsay rested his head in his hands and thought of the mess he’d become. He was an inch away from being just like Tom, and it was that thought that made his stomach heave once more.

  31

  ‘IT’S all right for you. You can do what you want,’ said Lindsay, knocking his knife off his plate as he got up. He grabbed his beer and went into the lounge room.

  CJ put their dishes in the sink and stood in the doorway, facing Lindsay. Some nice dinner at his place this was turning out to be! He hadn’t even touched his meal.

  ‘So, that’s your excuse?’ She was sick of tiptoeing around him, trying not to start anything. ‘You hardly eat, all you do is drink scotch and beer, you haven’t shaved in weeks. Have you seen yourself lately?’

  The night after he’d got drunk with Tom, she came home to find Lindsay waiting to apologise. He’d tried everything to get her to forgive him, and she had because he’d been wonderful. He’d been the Lindsay she knew before the accident. But that had lasted two days before the grumpiness filtered back in. He had lost weight, his muscles were fading, his clothes hung from him. He was still handsome. She still loved him. But the dark shadows under his eyes screamed unhappiness.

  ‘Have you?’ she asked again. He glared at her in response. ‘Maybe you should go and move in with my father. Tom might knock some sense into you. But then, it didn’t work the last time he hit you, did it,’ CJ fumed. Why couldn’t he just get over himself?

  She jumped as glass shattered on the wall next to her. Splashes of beer splattered the wall and her shirt. Her mouth fell open. In his rage, Lindsay had thrown his stubbie at the wall.

  ‘What the fuck?’ she said.

  Lindsay turned and smashed a hole in the wall with his fist and cursed. He rested his head against the wall and breathed deeply.

  CJ had emotions coursing through her. Shock, terror, hurt and concern. It was deja vu, and she didn’t like it.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He made a move towards her but stopped. ‘I don’t think I can do this any more, for either of us.’ Lindsay rubbed his hand down his jeans. He was wearing his favourite white T-shirt with a picture of a Buddha on it with the words, ‘Rub my belly and I’ll kick your arse.’ It had a hole in the front near his hip. Only a few weeks ago she had stuck her finger through it and teased him, before the shirt ended up a crumpled heap on the floor. They had a passion that neither of them could deny. No matter how bad he was feeling, she could always get him excited. Somehow she didn’t think it’d work tonight.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked, confused.

  Lindsay sighed, shoulders slumped. ‘I’ve been thinking about going back to the farm for a while now and I’ve decided I’m gonna do it.’

  She almost stumbled backwards in shock. ‘What! When were you going to tell me?’

  Lindsay scratched his head. ‘We’re talking about it now, aren’t we!’

  ‘What does that mean for us?’

  Lindsay put up his hand. ‘Nothing.’ He said it quietly but forcefully.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not working,’ said Lindsay calmly. ‘I’m no good for you, CJ.’

  ‘I think I should be the one to decide that, don’t you?’ Her pulse quickened. What was going through his mind?

  His eyes looked at the shattered bottle and he shuddered. ‘No. I can’t control this – I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t want to drag you through this.’ His voice broke. ‘I’ve given it a lot of thought. Tomorrow I’ll pack my bags and head home.’

  ‘Don’t you love me any more?’ She heard her voice crack with pain, and felt panic start to wind its way around her body. ‘All couples have fights.’

  He turned away from her and a lump the size of Tasmania grew in her throat. She almost squeaked out his name. ‘Lindsay.’

  He faced her. ‘I’m doing this because I love you.’ He moved his hand up, like he was going to caress her face, but then changed his mind and dropped it.

  ‘Why? What have I done? Tell me, and I’ll try harder. I love you so much. We’ll fix it. You’ll be fine once you can get a job.’

  ‘I’ve been trying,’ he yelled. ‘But it’s just getting worse. I’ll end up resenting you, hating myself, and I can’t put you through that. I don’t know where the hell my head is at.’ He held her at arm’s length. ‘God, CJ, you went through all this with your dad. You were so broken when I first met you. I’d die before I put you through that again… I can see I already am.’

  His eyes dropped to the floor and she shook him to make him look at her. ‘You are nothing like my father,’ she said sternly as panic started to creep in. ‘I didn’t mean what I said.’

  Lindsay stepped away from her. ‘But what you said was right and you know it. CJ, there are days where I feel just like him. Days where I know what he’s going through,’ he said softly. ‘I feel the pain and anger and I have so much self-pity. And then I see that look in your eyes. The fear and pain. It’s only small now, but it will grow and you’ll hate me like you hate him! I’d love to say I’m here for you… but… I can’t even sort myself out. My head’s not right,’ he said quietly, as if he was ashamed to admit it.

  ‘But we love each other. We can make it work.’ CJ was begging now. He couldn’t leave her. It would break her heart.

  ‘Yeah, and you loved your father too – look where that got you both.’

  CJ winced at his strong words as the truth ripped her heart.

  ‘CJ, it’s gotta be a clean break. I want you to go on and have a happy life. Maybe one day I might be okay, but till then we can’t be together. I can’t be here. I’m hurting you and I hate it.’ Tears were welling in his eyes but CJ’s were already streaming down her face. He turned away from her and went to his room.

  The couch creaked as she sank into it and wiped away her tears, trying to slow her sobs. He didn’t mean it, surely. Maybe tomorrow morning he’d have changed his mind. He just needed a night wrapped up in her arms and he’d see they were meant to be together.

  CJ had to admit that there were times when Lindsay resembled her dad. The way Tom was in the beginning, getting more and more distant and unhappy and snapping at every little thing. Picking fights for no reason. But Lindsay would never get that bad. Surely not. There was so much more he could do. Burt had already offered him full-time work, but he’d refused.

  Lindsay came back down the passage and she just about choked when she saw him heading towards the back door with a suitcase and a big bag slung over his shoulder.

  ‘What are you doing?’ She was trembling and her heart was beating in her throat again.

  ‘I’ve got everything I need. The rest can wait. The longer I’m here, the harder it is for both of us,’ he said, collecting a few photos and shoving them into the bag. He went into the bathroom and hastily gathered his toiletries.

  ‘You can’t leave me. I love you.’ The tears were back and blurring her vision as she gasped for air between her sobs. ‘I want you by my side no matter what.’ She thought of her mum and how she’d stood
by her dad, then quickly shrugged off the thought. She’d never let herself end up like her mum had: scared, lonely and afraid. ‘Don’t go. Stay here. I’ll give you a break. I won’t visit if that’s what you want. Just don’t go!’ she begged.

  ‘It just won’t work like that.’ Lindsay walked past her and out to his ute, his arms full of belongings. He smelt like aftershave and beer. CJ felt like collapsing to the floor and wrapping herself around his legs and screaming for him not to leave. But instead she followed him mutely outside. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of them could find their way out. She could see the pain on his face.

  ‘What if I call you tomorrow and we sort this out?’ she said, desperate. ‘Or in a few days, when you’ve had time to cool down?’ She’d try anything. ‘I will wait for you no matter what. I love you.’

  He turned around and held CJ’s face in his hands. A tear fell from his eye and ran down through the stubble onto his chin.

  ‘I’m not going to change my mind. I have to sort myself out and I can’t do that here. Please don’t… please don’t call me.’ He wiped away his tears roughly with the back of his hand. ‘Don’t visit. You’ll just make it so much harder than it needs to be. Please do this for me. Let me go,’ his voice broke. ‘I don’t know how long this will take. Don’t wait for me, just in case…’ Just in case I get worse, he thought to himself.

  Right now he didn’t think he’d see his way out of this black pit. It killed him, seeing her cry so hard for him, her whole body shaking with sobs. If he hung around, he knew he’d be an even bigger arsehole. He loved her too much for that. And she was still looking after Tom! He knew he was doing the right thing; he would take comfort in that. He pulled her in for a hug, wanting to smell her hair, and feel her crushed against him one last time.

  She tried to resist, she wanted to, but she had no strength. With his arms around her she just melted and clung to him for dear life. They were soul mates and she felt the tear begin in her heart. She held onto him tightly, breathing in his scent, her tears streaming down her face.