fic (original): A Moment of Insanity
Media: Fic (original)
Title: A Moment of Insanity
Rating: PG 13+
Warnings: None
Summary: Sometimes we have to get away, to appreciate where we come from. Written by an Exchange Student living in the cities of Belgium, missing the Australian desert.
Word count: 2,061
Beta: Unbetad. Anyone interested?
Completed: June 20, 2009
Disclaimer: This is original work, and is the intellectual property of me. If used, I must be credited.
Author Notes: Although I quite liked this when I wrote the original draft, I wasn't so keen on in after a week or two, possibly why it took so long to edit. Then again, I was quite homesick for Australia at the time. And Cribble Creek is nothing more than a drain, running the length of Kalgoorlie-Boulder, in Western Australia. It maybe flowed once or twice a year. I had such great fun paddling and boogie-boarding in the Cribble when I was a child.
Moment of Insanity
The thing about growing up in a small country town is that no matter how far, or how much you travel, you'll always end up back where you came from. I'm from a tiny little place in the middle of nowhere, called Cribble Creek. It's the kind of place that if you don't leave within a couple of years after arriving, you never will. The creek itself was really nothing more than a drain that ran the length of town, on the rare occasion it actually rained. I knew that I had to get out of here. Anyway, just six weeks after graduating high school, on the spur of the moment I was stuffing clothes into an old, hiking backpack I had found in the dumpster down the road, complete with abseiling clips which were rusted shut. That and my swag were tossed into the back of my green Jeep Wrangler, and within two hours of deciding to leave, I hit the road.
It was early evening and still light, by the time I arrived in the city. I pulled up outside the first pub I find, locked the Jeep (something I would have never bothered to do back home), and went inside the dingy bar. Okay, so it wasn't that dingy. It was like every other pub I suppose- not especially well lit, with a low rumble of people talking to their mates, and the faint small of stale cigarette smoke still clung to the wall, two years after the government had banned smoking inside all clubs, pubs and bars. A friend of mine went on a Kintiki tour in Europe last year, and said it was the same all over the world.
I sat down at the bar, and got myself a light beer. I sipped at it for over an hour, staring at the wall behind the bar, my mind blank. I don't think it had really hit me yet that I was no longer in Cribble Creek. I wasn't hungry, having eaten all of the dozen Granny Smiths I had left home with during the long drive. I glanced out the grimy window, only to see that the sun had fully set, and that it was completely black outside. I needed to find somewhere to sleep, and fast. I didn't even consider a hotel- not because of the money, but because I had no desire to shut myself into some musty room, reeking of sex from the thousands before me. I drove around, until I eventually found a quiet, dead-end street that looked out onto open bushland. I yanked my swag from the back and in a single motion, undid the clips and unrolled it parallel to the Jeep. My tired brain barely had enough power to take off my jeans and boots and chuck them onto the passenger seat, before wriggling into my bedroll, wearing just my navy boxers and the dusty grey shirt I had been wearing all day. The last thing I did before falling asleep was to send a text to my girlfriend, Soph.
In Perth. Dnt no wen i get bak. luv ya, Chris
The next morning I woke with the sunrise. Why do the bloody birds have to be so bloody noisy? Grudgingly I pulled back the canvas flap that covered my head. Squinting in the bright sunlight, I sat up and looked around me. Last night I was so exhausted and out of it by the time I pulled up that, in all honesty, I had no idea where I was. Small, fibro houses lined the opposite side of the street, and all but the last were an unpainted off-white colour. The house on the far left was painted lime green, with black trim. The garden was wild and overgrown, and the low, red-brick fence that separated the jungle from the sidewalk was crumbling. Just then, an old man came out from the side of the house, pottering down the worn, garden path. His face was brown from the sun, and his thin, silver hair hung in loose waves that ended just above his jaw. When he saw me sitting there in my swag, he grinned, showing a mouthful of perfect, white teeth. His clear, blue eyes were bright and alert, and seemed much younger than the rest of him. Without him saying a word, I knew I would like this guy. I nodded to him in greeting, as he called over “Hey kid, ya want a shower?”
“Love one!” I yelled back in response, my grin matching his own. He turned towards the chipped front door and gestured with his hand. I unzipped my swag, and reluctantly hauled myself out of the warm cocoon. It was too early for my brain to remind me of all that Stranger Danger stuff that I had drummed into my skull as a kid. Opening the Jeep door, I grabbed my jeans and shoved my legs through the holes, and half did the fly. I didn't even look at my work boots and reeking socks from yesterday, but instead rifled through my backpack until I found my thongs. Slipping them on, I wriggles my toes. Urgh- toe jam. I took a split second to grab my toothbrush, before hastily rolling up my swag. I didn't do a very good job, but I chucked it in the Jeep regardless. Locking up, I made my way towards the old man’s house.
“The towels are there, and the soap's there” he pointed out. “I'm on gas hot water, so don't take too long. My pension's not that much you know.” I nodded.
“No worries mate,” I replied, before he walked out, closing the door behind him. Instantly I was yanking off my clothes and jumping in the shower. Sighing in relief, I let the hot water soak my hair and run down my body. Remembering his warning about the water, I grabbed a bar of soap and lathered up. Within minutes I was stepping out and reaching for a worn blue towel. The edges were a bit frayed, but it was big enough. After I was dried and dressed I glanced at myself in the mirror, slightly speckled from rust. I gave my short hair a quick comb with my fingers, before giving my teeth a brush with some water. As I stepped out the steamy bathroom into the photo-lined hallway, the unmistakable small of frying bacon hit me like a ton of bricks. I headed towards the kitchen, my stomach growling. The door was open, so I walked straight in. The old man was faced away from the door, standing over the stove. “Erm...” I began, unsure of what to say. “Thanks for that. What would you like me to do with the towel?” I held up the sopping thing. Without a word he took it from me and hung it over the back of an empty kitchen chair.
“Sit” he said, his voice was rough and gravelly, and left no room for debate. Not that I was going to refuse, as hungry as I was. I did so, and he placed before me a plate loaded with bacon, eggs, baked beans and three slices of toast. “Thanks” I said, as I reached for my fork and knife, but he stopped me.
“Wait,” he warned, as he brought his hands together and bowed his head. Realising what he was about to do, I quickly copied his actions.
After the Grace was said, we tucked in. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he asked in his gravelly voice through a mouthful of baked beans, “So what’s your name kid?”
'Chris' I replied, “And yours?”
'James, though everyone calls me Jamie. So what’s your story?'
I swallowed a mouthful of fried egg. “Drove up from Cribble Creek yesterday. Had to get out of the country, find some adventure. Anything’s better than that place. Nothing ever happens.” But as I said those words, they didn't seem to have the same meaning, the same weight, as they did at 8am the previous morning, before I left. He must have picked up on my uncertainty, because he then said
“Seems to me that you’re still very much the country girl.” Now that surprised me. Not many people realised that I wasn't a bloke without me telling them. I couldn't help it. It's just the way I have always been. The last time I wore a dress, I was ten, and some stranger came up an asked Mum why her son was dressed as a girl! “You won't find many city kids sleeping in a swag on the edge of the road when they have a vehicle with locks.” he explained.
I shrugged. “I can stretch out in my swag.” I replied, but I could see he had a point.
“Left anyone behind?”
“Yeah, but they know where I am.” He nodded.
“So now that your here, what you going to do?” I shrugged again.
“Get a job I s’pose. Back home I worked as an IT junior for the Council. The work was good, and I got on well with the Boss.” At that point I stopped and grinned “and the bosses daughter.”
“Her name?” he asked without skipping a beat.
I smiled at the thought of her. “Sophie, Soph.”
“And what does she think of you being here in the big smoke?” He hit the nail on the head with that one. Suddenly I was feeling pretty uncomfortable.
“Good question.” I replied, and reached for my mobile to check the messages. “Apparently if I don't call back before this evening she is going to come after me and drag me back home.” By now both of our plates were empty. Jamie was mopping up the sauce from his beans with half a piece of toast.
“Better give her a call then.”
I shifted in my seat. “I s’pose,” but the hesitancy in my voice was obvious. Jamie looked me hard in the eye, then pointed up at one of the many photos on the wall. It was of a young man in an old-fashioned Diggers uniform, staring straight ahead. His face looked as it he had never shaved, and his eyes were bright with excitement. “That's Harry. In 1942 he joined up. He was four months shy of his seventeenth birthday at the time. He was everything to me.” Ahh, I thought to myself. An old queen. That’s why he didn't blink twice at Soph. “I told him that I would tell the authorities he was underage. He said that if I told, he would never speak to me again, and I couldn't bare that.” He paused, and I had a funny feeling I knew what was coming next. “In the end it didn't matter. Less than a month after he was posted at Kadoka he was killed in action. I only found out when the death notice was printed in the newspaper. His parents knew nothing of me, so I was never told in person. A little while later, a letter arrived. It had been found amongst Harry's things, and had my address on it.” He paused again. By this time I had tears welling in my eyes. “He said that he went looking for adventure, but the whole time he was dreaming of home. And that he wished I had told.” He turned back to his plate, and recommenced mopping up the sauces with his toast. “Now I know this ain't war, but if you have any doubts what so ever, about your 'adventures', then turn around and go back while you still can.” I nodded.
“Thanks,” I said, “for the shower, and the breaky, and that.” I stood up, and walked out the front door without another word.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, and sat there, staring at the phone in my hand. Should I? Could I? Pressing the autodial, I put the mobile to my ear. It range twice before a familiar voiced laced with worry answered. “Chris? Is that you? What do you mean, you’re in Perth? When do you get back? Why didn't you tell me? Chris?” I waited for her to stop speaking.
“Don't worry,” I said calmly, “I'm fine. I just had a moment of insanity. I will be back by three this afternoon. I'm coming home.”
Title: A Moment of Insanity
Rating: PG 13+
Warnings: None
Summary: Sometimes we have to get away, to appreciate where we come from. Written by an Exchange Student living in the cities of Belgium, missing the Australian desert.
Word count: 2,061
Beta: Unbetad. Anyone interested?
Completed: June 20, 2009
Disclaimer: This is original work, and is the intellectual property of me. If used, I must be credited.
Author Notes: Although I quite liked this when I wrote the original draft, I wasn't so keen on in after a week or two, possibly why it took so long to edit. Then again, I was quite homesick for Australia at the time. And Cribble Creek is nothing more than a drain, running the length of Kalgoorlie-Boulder, in Western Australia. It maybe flowed once or twice a year. I had such great fun paddling and boogie-boarding in the Cribble when I was a child.
Moment of Insanity
The thing about growing up in a small country town is that no matter how far, or how much you travel, you'll always end up back where you came from. I'm from a tiny little place in the middle of nowhere, called Cribble Creek. It's the kind of place that if you don't leave within a couple of years after arriving, you never will. The creek itself was really nothing more than a drain that ran the length of town, on the rare occasion it actually rained. I knew that I had to get out of here. Anyway, just six weeks after graduating high school, on the spur of the moment I was stuffing clothes into an old, hiking backpack I had found in the dumpster down the road, complete with abseiling clips which were rusted shut. That and my swag were tossed into the back of my green Jeep Wrangler, and within two hours of deciding to leave, I hit the road.
It was early evening and still light, by the time I arrived in the city. I pulled up outside the first pub I find, locked the Jeep (something I would have never bothered to do back home), and went inside the dingy bar. Okay, so it wasn't that dingy. It was like every other pub I suppose- not especially well lit, with a low rumble of people talking to their mates, and the faint small of stale cigarette smoke still clung to the wall, two years after the government had banned smoking inside all clubs, pubs and bars. A friend of mine went on a Kintiki tour in Europe last year, and said it was the same all over the world.
I sat down at the bar, and got myself a light beer. I sipped at it for over an hour, staring at the wall behind the bar, my mind blank. I don't think it had really hit me yet that I was no longer in Cribble Creek. I wasn't hungry, having eaten all of the dozen Granny Smiths I had left home with during the long drive. I glanced out the grimy window, only to see that the sun had fully set, and that it was completely black outside. I needed to find somewhere to sleep, and fast. I didn't even consider a hotel- not because of the money, but because I had no desire to shut myself into some musty room, reeking of sex from the thousands before me. I drove around, until I eventually found a quiet, dead-end street that looked out onto open bushland. I yanked my swag from the back and in a single motion, undid the clips and unrolled it parallel to the Jeep. My tired brain barely had enough power to take off my jeans and boots and chuck them onto the passenger seat, before wriggling into my bedroll, wearing just my navy boxers and the dusty grey shirt I had been wearing all day. The last thing I did before falling asleep was to send a text to my girlfriend, Soph.
In Perth. Dnt no wen i get bak. luv ya, Chris
The next morning I woke with the sunrise. Why do the bloody birds have to be so bloody noisy? Grudgingly I pulled back the canvas flap that covered my head. Squinting in the bright sunlight, I sat up and looked around me. Last night I was so exhausted and out of it by the time I pulled up that, in all honesty, I had no idea where I was. Small, fibro houses lined the opposite side of the street, and all but the last were an unpainted off-white colour. The house on the far left was painted lime green, with black trim. The garden was wild and overgrown, and the low, red-brick fence that separated the jungle from the sidewalk was crumbling. Just then, an old man came out from the side of the house, pottering down the worn, garden path. His face was brown from the sun, and his thin, silver hair hung in loose waves that ended just above his jaw. When he saw me sitting there in my swag, he grinned, showing a mouthful of perfect, white teeth. His clear, blue eyes were bright and alert, and seemed much younger than the rest of him. Without him saying a word, I knew I would like this guy. I nodded to him in greeting, as he called over “Hey kid, ya want a shower?”
“Love one!” I yelled back in response, my grin matching his own. He turned towards the chipped front door and gestured with his hand. I unzipped my swag, and reluctantly hauled myself out of the warm cocoon. It was too early for my brain to remind me of all that Stranger Danger stuff that I had drummed into my skull as a kid. Opening the Jeep door, I grabbed my jeans and shoved my legs through the holes, and half did the fly. I didn't even look at my work boots and reeking socks from yesterday, but instead rifled through my backpack until I found my thongs. Slipping them on, I wriggles my toes. Urgh- toe jam. I took a split second to grab my toothbrush, before hastily rolling up my swag. I didn't do a very good job, but I chucked it in the Jeep regardless. Locking up, I made my way towards the old man’s house.
“The towels are there, and the soap's there” he pointed out. “I'm on gas hot water, so don't take too long. My pension's not that much you know.” I nodded.
“No worries mate,” I replied, before he walked out, closing the door behind him. Instantly I was yanking off my clothes and jumping in the shower. Sighing in relief, I let the hot water soak my hair and run down my body. Remembering his warning about the water, I grabbed a bar of soap and lathered up. Within minutes I was stepping out and reaching for a worn blue towel. The edges were a bit frayed, but it was big enough. After I was dried and dressed I glanced at myself in the mirror, slightly speckled from rust. I gave my short hair a quick comb with my fingers, before giving my teeth a brush with some water. As I stepped out the steamy bathroom into the photo-lined hallway, the unmistakable small of frying bacon hit me like a ton of bricks. I headed towards the kitchen, my stomach growling. The door was open, so I walked straight in. The old man was faced away from the door, standing over the stove. “Erm...” I began, unsure of what to say. “Thanks for that. What would you like me to do with the towel?” I held up the sopping thing. Without a word he took it from me and hung it over the back of an empty kitchen chair.
“Sit” he said, his voice was rough and gravelly, and left no room for debate. Not that I was going to refuse, as hungry as I was. I did so, and he placed before me a plate loaded with bacon, eggs, baked beans and three slices of toast. “Thanks” I said, as I reached for my fork and knife, but he stopped me.
“Wait,” he warned, as he brought his hands together and bowed his head. Realising what he was about to do, I quickly copied his actions.
After the Grace was said, we tucked in. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he asked in his gravelly voice through a mouthful of baked beans, “So what’s your name kid?”
'Chris' I replied, “And yours?”
'James, though everyone calls me Jamie. So what’s your story?'
I swallowed a mouthful of fried egg. “Drove up from Cribble Creek yesterday. Had to get out of the country, find some adventure. Anything’s better than that place. Nothing ever happens.” But as I said those words, they didn't seem to have the same meaning, the same weight, as they did at 8am the previous morning, before I left. He must have picked up on my uncertainty, because he then said
“Seems to me that you’re still very much the country girl.” Now that surprised me. Not many people realised that I wasn't a bloke without me telling them. I couldn't help it. It's just the way I have always been. The last time I wore a dress, I was ten, and some stranger came up an asked Mum why her son was dressed as a girl! “You won't find many city kids sleeping in a swag on the edge of the road when they have a vehicle with locks.” he explained.
I shrugged. “I can stretch out in my swag.” I replied, but I could see he had a point.
“Left anyone behind?”
“Yeah, but they know where I am.” He nodded.
“So now that your here, what you going to do?” I shrugged again.
“Get a job I s’pose. Back home I worked as an IT junior for the Council. The work was good, and I got on well with the Boss.” At that point I stopped and grinned “and the bosses daughter.”
“Her name?” he asked without skipping a beat.
I smiled at the thought of her. “Sophie, Soph.”
“And what does she think of you being here in the big smoke?” He hit the nail on the head with that one. Suddenly I was feeling pretty uncomfortable.
“Good question.” I replied, and reached for my mobile to check the messages. “Apparently if I don't call back before this evening she is going to come after me and drag me back home.” By now both of our plates were empty. Jamie was mopping up the sauce from his beans with half a piece of toast.
“Better give her a call then.”
I shifted in my seat. “I s’pose,” but the hesitancy in my voice was obvious. Jamie looked me hard in the eye, then pointed up at one of the many photos on the wall. It was of a young man in an old-fashioned Diggers uniform, staring straight ahead. His face looked as it he had never shaved, and his eyes were bright with excitement. “That's Harry. In 1942 he joined up. He was four months shy of his seventeenth birthday at the time. He was everything to me.” Ahh, I thought to myself. An old queen. That’s why he didn't blink twice at Soph. “I told him that I would tell the authorities he was underage. He said that if I told, he would never speak to me again, and I couldn't bare that.” He paused, and I had a funny feeling I knew what was coming next. “In the end it didn't matter. Less than a month after he was posted at Kadoka he was killed in action. I only found out when the death notice was printed in the newspaper. His parents knew nothing of me, so I was never told in person. A little while later, a letter arrived. It had been found amongst Harry's things, and had my address on it.” He paused again. By this time I had tears welling in my eyes. “He said that he went looking for adventure, but the whole time he was dreaming of home. And that he wished I had told.” He turned back to his plate, and recommenced mopping up the sauces with his toast. “Now I know this ain't war, but if you have any doubts what so ever, about your 'adventures', then turn around and go back while you still can.” I nodded.
“Thanks,” I said, “for the shower, and the breaky, and that.” I stood up, and walked out the front door without another word.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, and sat there, staring at the phone in my hand. Should I? Could I? Pressing the autodial, I put the mobile to my ear. It range twice before a familiar voiced laced with worry answered. “Chris? Is that you? What do you mean, you’re in Perth? When do you get back? Why didn't you tell me? Chris?” I waited for her to stop speaking.
“Don't worry,” I said calmly, “I'm fine. I just had a moment of insanity. I will be back by three this afternoon. I'm coming home.”