CHAPTER SIX
Realisations and reality checks.
Eventually we showered and made our way downtown. The main street of Alice Springs was no thriving metropolis, but we found a coffee shop and had ourselves a late breakfast.
Trav ordered the biggest breakfast they made and some fancy coffee. He was oddly excited, or just very happy. I tried not to smile at him, looked at the girl behind the counter and just held up two fingers. “Make that two.”
He snatched a couple of newspapers off a nearby table and found a table at the back of the shop. He slid into one seat and pushed one newspaper across the table, presumably for me. He flicked through The Australian until he found the world news page. “You know, technology is great and all. It’s instant and gratifying and I can pull up any newspaper from anywhere around the world in a few seconds, but there’s nothing quite like sitting in a coffee shop and reading an actual newspaper.”
I turned the Alice’s local rag, The Centralian, over to the stock price section. “Makes you wonder how long actual newspapers will be around for,” I noted. “People’ll stop buyin’ them eventually, when they can get it all online.”
Trav looked up from the newspaper in front of him. He seemed to consider my words. “True. Shame, though.”
I looked at what he was reading. It was the international news page, and I guessed he was looking for American-related news. It got me thinking. “Did you want to start ordering a newspaper to be delivered to the station? It will just come with the mail on Mondays and Fridays,” I explained. “My dad used to do it, but with the internet, I never saw the point.”
He seemed to consider it, just as the waitress brought over two coffees. Travis smiled at her, lifted the cup straight to his lips and sipped it. His eyes closed slowly, and he hummed at the first taste, or maybe it was the aroma, but I made a mental note to buy him a coffee machine. It’d be worth every damn cent just so I could see him look like that.
“God that’s good,” he murmured. “I’ve missed good coffee.” His gaze snapped to mine. “I mean, the station coffee is good. Don’t get me wrong. I’m used to it now, I guess.”
I laughed and sipped my coffee. I had to agree, it was so, so much better than the crap we drank at home. I was more of a tea drinker, but since Travis arrived, I’d taken to coffee. “It’s okay, Trav. I agree. This is so much better.”
Our breakfast arrived, and as we ate, Travis read the paper and I searched up coffee machines on my phone and found one of the department stores in Alice Springs stocked a popular brand.
“What are you smiling at?” Travis asked, his mouth half-full. He’d been watching me as I looked at my phone. “Your food’ll go cold. Eat it while it’s hot. It’s good.”
I pushed my phone away. “Nothing in particular,” I told him. I started to eat the plateful of bacon, eggs, tomato, sausage, beans and toast, ignoring the side-eyes he was giving me.
When we had eaten far too much, we hit the footpath and walked up the street in the warm winter sun. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Up here,” I said, pointing to the Harvey Norman store.
“What are you looking for?”
“You’ll see,” I said. When we got to the store, I held the door open and followed him through.
A salesman met us on the furniture floor. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”
Travis looked at me and waited with the salesman for me to answer. I couldn’t help but smile. “Coffee machines?”
We followed the guy into the electronics section, and he waved his hand at a whole row with two dozen types of coffee machines and looked at me. “Were you after percolating, filtered, brewing or pods?”
I blinked slowly. “Um.” I looked at Trav for some help. “I have no clue.”
“Is it for me?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“Of course it is,” I said. “You’re the one that drinks it.”
The salesman looked at us both, taking in my worn jeans, old dusty boots and hole-ridden hat, then looked Travis over. And I was pretty sure he knew. Like we had boyfriends written all over us. He gave us a small, forced smile.
Travis didn’t see any of it, he was too busy looking over the rows of coffee machines. “We’re three hours outta town,” Travis said, not even looking up to see if the guy was even still there. “Which one would be easier to buy and store coffee for?”
They discussed coffee machines, and I kind of wandered off, finding myself in front of the huge flat screen TVs. I certainly didn’t plan it, but two girls seemed to find me. They were customers, probably twenty years old, and we got to goofing off in front of the camera that put us on the biggest screen on the whole floor. We were just being silly buggers, and I figured it couldn’t hurt if the salesman thought I was more interested in the two girls than I was in buying a freakin’ gay coffee machine with my boyfriend.
“Charlie!” Travis called out.
I spun around to look at him and tried to act like I wasn’t just trying to walk like an Egyptian, making the girls laugh. Travis raised his what-the-actual-fuck-are-you-doing eyebrow at me.
I left the girls without so much as looking back and walked over to Travis and the salesman. “Did you get their phone numbers?” Travis asked. He sounded joking, but there was a sting in his stare.
“Nah, must be losing my touch,” I joked.
“Or they saw you dance,” he deadpanned. “Really? ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’? That the best you got?”
“Well, I can’t be MC Hammer without the pants,” I said, not really meaning to say that out loud.
Travis snorted out a laugh, though I think he was trying to be pissed off. With a God-help-me sigh, he turned back to the sales guy, ignoring me. “I’ll take this one,” he said, patting a box on the shelf.
I picked up a few boxes of the coffee pods that went with it and handed over my credit card before Travis fished his wallet from his back pocket. Travis was quiet throughout the whole transaction, and when we’d collected our goods and left the store, he still hadn’t spoken.
I was carrying the bag with the coffee pods in it, he was carrying the box, and we headed back down the street toward where we’d parked the ute. He was back to being pissed off. “Trav, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t believe you were flirting with those girls.”
“What?” I asked, incredulous.
“You so were.”
“I’ve never flirted with any girls,” I replied. “Ever. Sweet mother of God, how could that”—I pointed back to the store—“what I did back there, be classed as flirting?”
He stopped walking. “Why did you walk off in the store?”
“I don’t know anything about coffee machines,” I answered lamely. I sucked at lying.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, probably because he knew I wasn’t telling him the truth. Then he did the waiting thing, which usually made me talk.
“I didn’t want the sales guy to think we were, you know, a couple.”
Travis blinked, his mouth opened then he blinked again.
“I’m not like you,” I admitted quietly. “I’m not as brave as you. Just to be out and don’t give a fuck. I wish I was. But I’m not. I have to think of my business, and it’s different for me. I wish it wasn’t.”
Travis’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, defeated. My admission just made him feel guilty.
So then I said, “I don’t want you to feel bad. I just wanted you to have a coffee machine. You love coffee and I should have done it months ago. It wasn’t until I saw your face and you made that sex sound when you tasted that coffee this morning—”
“Sex sound?”
My face grew hot, and I knew I was blushing. “Yeah. You kind of hummed-moaned-sighed the way you do when you’re…”
He raised one eyebrow at me, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Is that right?”
I nodded. “It’s my favourite sound.”
Travis was smiling now, and he shook his head. He started to walk again, and I took a few quick steps to catch up to him.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I was a dick.”
“Yes, you were. But you’re my dick.” He stopped walking and tilted his head. “That didn’t come out right.”
I laughed at him, and he put his hand on my shoulder and then the bastard pushed me into a street sign.
* * * *
We spent the afternoon at the local museum, and then we went to the movies. I wanted Travis to see some local artwork, in particular Aboriginal art pieces, and I also wanted him to do something as simple as watch a movie—something the isolation of the station didn’t allow us to do as often as he’d probably like.
We went out for dinner, to an Italian restaurant, which I thought would have a menu of food he might have missed in the last six months. And he ordered a bunch of stuff I never would have: fancy cheeses and mushrooms, seafood and pasta, and cakes and coffee of course.
I wanted him to experience as much as he could.
I didn’t want him to miss anything and regret his decision to stay. Or worse, resent me.
And the truth was, the sinking realisation was, that as much as I wanted to show him, to give him, to let him experience in these two pathetic days in Alice Springs… all I wanted to do was go home.
* * * *
“There’s a lot to be said about aqua therapy,” Travis said huskily. His hair was still wet, but his body now mostly dry. He was lying face first on the bed, his arms spread out and his ass still slightly raised. He hadn’t moved. There was smeared lube on his hips from where I’d gripped him, and over his ass cheeks and down his crack, from when I’d been inside him.
We’d got back to the hotel from dinner last night, too full of food and coffee to contemplate sex. We sure made up for it this morning. Chuckling, I leaned over him and kissed the back of his neck. “Aqua therapy?”
“Hm mm.”
“Just how many showers are we gonna have?”
“A lot.” He stretched out and moaned. “You taste better wet.”
I laughed and lightly smacked his arse. “Go have another shower. I’ll pack our stuff into the ute. We better get going.”
He sighed longingly. I didn’t know if it was an I-can’t-wait-to-go-home sigh or an I-don’t-want-to-go-back kind of sigh.
Before I could ask him, he rolled off the bed and walked slowly to the shower.
“You okay?” I asked him, pulling on my jeans. “Are you sore?”
He looked at me over his shoulder. “If by sore you mean feeling very well-fucked and completely sated, then yes.”
“Are you sure?”
He rolled his eyes and shut the bathroom door. Since we’d got back to our room after dinner, there was a change in him. He was quiet. He wasn’t his usual talkative-smiling-charming self. He seemed… distracted.
Unhappy.
Trying not to overthink it, I packed everything up, and by the time Travis was out of the shower, we were all but ready to go.
Shopping.
Grocery shopping to be exact. It was its own special kind of hell. But I figured it was something we’d never done together, and maybe that would make it bearable.
But when I pulled up in the parking lot at the supermarket to get Ma’s long list of shopping, instead of walking into Woolworth’s, Travis walked the other way.
“Where you going?” I called out.
“Just over here,” he answered. He kept on walking to the park at the end of the complex. It was just a small park, some kids had graffitied the seats and the play equipment was kind of broken, but there were big maple trees that Travis headed straight for. He sat down on the dirty park bench, and by the time I got over to him, he was pulling off his boots. He looked up at me and smiled, then took off his socks and put his bare feet on the grass.
The longish green grass.
I sat down beside him. “Trav, you okay?”
He gave me a bit of a smile. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve just been a bit quiet, that’s all,” I said, avoiding making eye contact, looking at his feet instead.
“I just wanted to feel grass under my feet.” He shrugged. “Didn’t realise I’d miss the feel of grass.”
Then it dawned on me. Travis was homesick.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and could barely form the words. They were a whisper at best. “Do you want to go home?”
He sighed. “We’d better get Ma her shopping first, or she’ll have our hides.”
He didn’t understand. “No, I meant home, home.” I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. “As in Texas?”
He shot me a look. “What?”
I felt a bit sick at the thought, but that voice in my head that knew this was inevitable at some point was loud and clear. I didn’t want to hear it, I didn’t want this to end—ever—but I had to know. “Home. Do you miss it?”
He didn’t answer for a while. I could feel his eyes on me, burning into me, but I couldn’t look at him.
“I’ll understand, Travis,” I whispered. “Just say it.”
“Charlie,” he said softly. “Look at me.” He waited for my eyes to meet his before he continued. “I won’t lie to you. Yes, I miss it. I miss my family.”
I nodded and took a deep breath, trying to keep it together. “I don’t blame you,” I said. My voice croaked, and I bit my lip to stem the burning in my eyes. I couldn’t bear to look at him, so I looked out at the car park instead.
“Charlie.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t do this. Not here, not ever. I wanted to stand up and walk away, but I couldn’t seem to move.
“Charles Sutton, you can stop that right the fuck now.”
I looked at him then, and his face went from pissed off to oh-hell-no when he saw that I was fighting tears.
He kind of laughed, but he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him. “No, no, no, Charlie, no. I’m not leaving.”
I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked at his face. “But you miss home.”
“Yes, I miss my folks, but that’s only natural. I don’t want to go home, maybe for a visit sometime, yes. But not for good.” His eyes were soft and he smiled. “Charlie, you’re just waiting for me to tell you it’s over, aren’t you?”
I swallowed hard. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Well, you know what?” he asked. “You’re stuck with me. I’ve told you that. A hundred times.”
“Aren’t you sick of it, though? Even just a little bit?” I asked. “The heat, the dust, the monotony of it all. Being so far away from everything. I know it’s not an easy life.”
He smiled but looked out to a passing car. “You know what does bother me, Charlie?”
“What?”
“The fact I keep telling you I’m staying, that I love it here, that I love you,” he said quietly, “and you don’t believe me.”
I wanted to take his hand. I wanted to reassure him with a touch. But I couldn’t. My hand wanted to move, but my hammering heart wouldn’t let it. “I do believe you.”
“Then why do you always think I’m leaving?”
I shrugged. “Because I would understand if you did.” I looked back out across the car park again. It was easier than looking at him. “I do believe you. I’m sorry if you think I’m doubting you. Because I’m not. I doubt me.”
“How?”
“That I’ll fuck it up, or the fact I’m not technically out,” I admitted. His eyebrows furrowed in that what-the-hell-does-that-mean way he did. “Well, this weekend… I booked us into a twin room so the lady behind the counter wouldn’t know, I wouldn’t dance with you, I walked away from you in the stupid electronics store, and I wouldn’t hold your hand at the movies and that’s not fair on you.” I shrugged again. “I’m trying, Trav, but it’s not easy for me. I wanted this weekend to be a bit special and I kinda failed.”
“I never asked you to hold my hand at the movies,” he said, obviously confused.
“I know you didn’t. But I wanted… I wanted to hold your hand,” I admitted quietly. “And I couldn’t do it. Even in the darkened cinema. In case someone saw it… I hate that I can’t… like right now. I want to do something as simple as hold your fucking hand, and I can’t.”
Travis stared at me for the longest time. “Charlie. You didn’t fail. This weekend’s been great. And don’t ever apologise.”
Before I could lose my nerve, I asked him, “Are you happy? Here with me?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he just kind of smiled and shook his head in a frustrated I-can’t-believe-you’re-so-fucking-stupid kind of way. “Charlie, do me a favour?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“Take your boots and socks off.”
“What?”
He looked pointedly at his bare feet. “Boots and socks. Take ’em off.”
I considered arguing. I considered telling him it was the middle of town, in the park next to the supermarket, and that taking my boots off probably wasn’t strictly proper. But it was Travis, and it was kind of pointless to argue, and considering how this conversation was going, I didn’t dare. So I took off my boots and socks.
“Doesn’t that feel good?”
“Um…”
“The grass,” he said. “Under your feet.”
It was like soft paper and… green. “I guess.”
“Of all the things, I didn’t think I would miss this.”
“Grass?”
Travis looked at me and grinned. “Weird, huh?”
I thought about it for a long moment. “I guess not. Not if you were used to it before.”
He smiled wistfully and sighed. “Charlie, I can see how hard you’re trying this weekend.”
“I want you to be happy.”
He smiled more genuinely this time. “I know you do. And I am.”
“But?” There definitely sounded like there was a ‘but’ looming.
“I’ve loved this weekend here with you. No work, no anything. Just us.”
“And?”
“And all you want to do is go home.”
“No I don’t,” I lied.
He raised his eyebrow again. “You really are a terrible liar.”
“I’ve loved being here with you,” I said quickly. Then I shrugged and opted for honesty. “I just feel very… out of place.”
“Can I tell you something?”
I nodded, really not wanting to hear what he had to say.
“You don’t belong here.” He smiled at my expression. “You belong on Sutton Station. It’s a part of you. The vastness, the open spaces, the red dirt.”
“It’s who I am.”
He smiled. “It’s who I love.”
I looked at him then, really looked at him. He laughed and shook his head. He sat like that for a little while longer, wiggling his toes in the grass. I sat with him of course, but as soon as he said, “Come on, we’d better get this shopping done,” I was quick to put my old boots back on.