A Pair of Lost Socks

They both laughed, then max leant on the opposite bench, sipping his tea, and they smiled at one another, eyes twinkling. After a while, Yvonne said, "It was very sweet of you to tell Heather you love her last night, Max."

"Yeah, she knows and I've told her many times before."

"You showed all our children love, and often! But she and I were chatting before, and she told me how you've changed in the past year or two. She said a sparks reignited within you, and I can see it too. She thinks it's because of Tim, like you and he are cobbers."

Max smiled. "It's because of Heather. She's helped me a lot since she moved back to Tasmania."

"And she saved you from your dirty little flat up at Glenorchy. By all accounts it was a filthy little block of units. She told me about the other tenants and the landlord..."

"Yeah, but now I'm living at her and Tim's place and they're gonna have a baby. I'm gonna be in their way, so...I'll probably have to find somewhere else."

"How do you plan on paying for somewhere else?"

"Dunno. Neil's given me regular shifts at his bottle-shop a couple of days a week for the past couple of years to supplement my disability pension."

"Hardly going to be enough in the current rental market."

"I'll get a second job. Maybe I'll ask at the servo down the road? Can't work more than thirty hours a week though or I lose my pension."

"Could you go back to working a service station, after...?"

"After the armed hold up?" With a shrug of his shoulders, he recalled the time when he'd worked behind the counter at a service station as part of his rehabilitation, when a man came in wearing a motorcycle helmet and pulled a pistol on him, demanding the contents of the till. At the time he'd responded cool and calm, doing as asked, letting the man take it all. Later the dreams came, where he was looking directly into the barrel of the gun centimetres from his eye, an unseen bullet chambered at the far end of the dark hole. He'd wake in fright, unable to sleep again, then the thoughts would come, the ones where he'd wondered if he'd stopped to think about it rather than do as the man demanded, if he'd resisted instead, would the man have ended it all for him, delivering him to blackness. More than once he'd wished he'd taken that option instead...but it happened a long time ago, and he hadn't thought of these things in several years, and didn't want to go back to those thoughts either. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, so sure, I could work at a servo."

"Pat and Joan might have some room after their renovations? I could have a word with them for you."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about me, I'll work something out."

Without taking her eyes from his, she sipped tea from her cup, then placed it on the bench. "This is the thing, Max, I do worry about you. Believe it or not, you're the only man I've ever loved and I don't want to see you struggling again."

He nodded, but remained silent, then Heather came through the door with her yoga mat rolled in her hands. She looked to them both and smirked. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, love," Max said, offering her a smile. "Yer Mother and I were just havin' a chat. Do you want some breaky? I'll cook."

"Oh, for a moment there I thought I'd travelled back to a time long ago, the way you two were making eyes at one another. But back then you only cooked breakfast on game day."

"Like you said," Max said, with a laugh, "I'm getting back in the game! Now, let's see what we've got food-wise around here."

Heather and Yvonne looked to one another, smiles on their lips, and Max grinned, then turned and opened the fridge.

~0~

Several nights later Max lay in bed, in the shed, listening to the night sounds outside; the rustle of the breeze through the leaves and the cracking of the steel-sheet walls and roof contracting in the cool air. King lay on his dog-bed in the main garage section of the shed, and despite the darkness, Max could hear the dog move and knew he was alert. Moments later King barked twice, the sound loudly reverberating around the shed. The door creaked open and Max was doubly alert, and he heard Yvonne say, "It's only me, Kingy, don't get your knickers in a knot!"

"You scared us both half-to-death," Max whispered.

"Big Maxie Coughlan, scared? I'd never have thought it."

"I've been plenty scared in the past few years."

She sat on the end of the bed. "Scared of what?"

Living alone...dying alone...

He sat up and grinned instead, barely thinking about how she couldn't see his face. "Scared of people coming in the dark and sitting on the end of my bed."

She snorted the faintest laugh, then said, "It's getting chilly out here, you can use the pot-bellied stove over there. You cut enough wood to last the next few years."

"You know me, don't feel the cold."

"Like Darren used to say, no brain no pain," she whispered with a chuckle. Max felt Yvonne shift position on the end of the bed, seeing her faint silhouette move in the dark, and she made a noise, as if clearing her throat. "I've been thinking quite a lot about our little chat the other day, about where you can go so you're out of Heather and Tim's way when their baby comes. I have a proposal, and you don't have to accept it, but when Heather goes back to Tim, how about you stay here?"

"In your shed?"

"Sure, in my shed."

"But...you wanted to get away from me."

"Yes, I did. Years ago, after you pushed me away, not wanting my help or anyone else's, and not helping yourself either. Things are different now, Max. I see you've...improved. No more cigarettes or pot or excessive drinking. You're cooking and cleaning like never before, and you're even shaving these days!"

Max chuckled. "Took the moustache off a long time ago."

"Yes, your ridiculous moustache," Yvonne said with humour in the dark. Max could see her silhouette move again, feeling her shift too, where she came to him, sitting in the vacant space on the bed to his left.

"My mo wasn't ridiculous, it was my trademark! Who was the little bloke in the comic books Ryan read as a kid, the one he said looked like me?"

"Asterix!" Yvonne said with a chuckle. "The little Gaulish warrior. 'Cept little is what he was, and you're not, but later Ryan said you were like the statue of Vercingetorix he'd seen in a book when he was into real Celtic history."

"Yeah, he loved those cartoons and all that mythology stuff when he was a kid. Used to call your brother after the big guy who carried the rock on his back, right?"

Yvonne laughed. "He called Pat Uncle Obelix. It was a cartoon, but the other stuff wasn't mythology, it was actual real history! Vercingetorix was a real life warrior and leader of the Gauls, who lived in France in Roman times and fought Julius Caesar."

"Yeah," Max chuckled. "I don't know how you remember any of this. I always said you should've studied at university with all those crosswords you used to do and books you read."

"Yeah, you did, and I never thought I was good enough, or university was even an option for me. But I remember it mostly because the only way I could get Ryan to read anything was sit long hours with him finding topics he actually took interest in, which was Asterix cartoons and anything on the Celts."

"He used to read the footy pages in the newspaper with me," Max said with a smile in the dark. "Did him good too, because he made it into university."

"Only one in our combined families," Yvonne said, pride evident in her voice.

"He did, and now he's up in Queensland..."

"That he is, doing his computer programing."

Max was silent, reflective for a moment, and he sensed Yvonne shift on the bed beside him. Looking for something to say, anything, he said, "Anyway, I thought Verces...Vercing..."

"Vercingetorix..."

"Yeah, him...I thought that's what you called me." Then he smiled and chuckled. "The man the Italian painter drew. I believe you called me the most perfectly formed specimen."

Yvonne laughed, a genuine laugh, warming Max's heart. She said to him, "I used to call you my Vitruvian Man. Leonardo da Vinci drew him as the ideal male form."

"That fella," Max chuckled. "I recall you joked Mr da Vinci must've been a time traveller and had me model for him."

"Turn it up, Max," she laughed, giving his arm a little tap. "Though, I did say the Vitruvian Man does have an uncanny resemblance to you, at least when I first met you, with your dirty wheat blond curly hair to your shoulders like you used to wear it in the eighties, and look of sadness on your face when I rejected your advances down at Constitution Dock."

He laughed, giving Yvonne's arm a tap this time. "Now listen to who's pulling me leg! You couldn't wait to give me ya phone number!"

"You know I only gave you my number because I felt sorry for you."

Max snorted and grinned in the darkness. "Listen to ya! You told me it was because your Dad wouldn't let you date any boys, so you set out to find yourself a sophisticated bloke in the city."

Yvonne laughed so hard she started coughing, and she tapped her chest to clear her throat. "Wow, never heard this version before, Max. If I were looking for someone sophisticated, I'd have looked for someone wearing a suit and tie, not a footy guernsey and shorts on a freezing winter's day down by the docks! It should've been a dead giveaway you weren't too bright."

"Yet, you took one look at me and thought, there's a nice piece of prime meat, I'll have a bit of that, thanks."

She laughed again, almost coughing again, then shook her head. "You know I wasn't looking for a bloke, or anyone."

"You always said so, but you still put your number under me windscreen wiper, right in front of your Dad and Pat."

Yvonne gave a little chuckle, and Max was sure she smiled, because he heard it in her voice. "I told you many times, my old man and brother had a habit of scaring off boys. And I wasn't interested in people anyway, especially ones mucking me about, but the little thrill I got from sneaking the slip of newspaper under the Torry's wiper was worth it, and of course I never expected you to bother calling since I lived so far away. You know I was surprised when you did call, then it was fun to watch you squirm in my lounge room when you arrived, seeing Dad and Pat trying to scare off the young fella from Hobart."

"Didn't work though, did it," Max said, recalling the nerves he'd felt the first time he'd called in on Yvonne, her ex-Navy and professional fisherman father Reg and her big brother Patrick asking him questions on his intentions with Yvonne. And he'd never felt nervous in his life before then, however he hadn't met many families of girls he was dating back in those days either.

"Yeah," she said with a hint of scorn in her voice, "And to think you were only seeing me to take Darren up on his stupid dare..."

"I won the dare too, thank you very much! I hit the jackpot and ended up with the most beautiful girl in the entire world, and I won't have anyone tell me any different."

Yvonne snorted. "Most beautiful girl in the world...sure. I was just a fisherman's daughter from the far end of the Earth..."

Max smiled, giving a slight chuckle. "And I was the son of a forester and sawmiller from the far end of the Earth, yet I was your Vit...Vitruman."

"Vitruvian Man."

"That's the fella, I was your Vitruvian Man. Your perfect male specimen."

She nodded. "You were, but I think you need to realise you're not a God."

"Yeah, obviously I was brought back down to Earth when this happened." He patted his stump, way up his left thigh. "And then I wasn't perfect anymore."

"No, Max," she said. "Your attitude drove me away, not the loss of your leg. You know I tried with you, and wanted you to seek professional help, and you know...anyway."

"I know I wore you down, Vonnie. I'm sorry. I know I...went off the rails."

Yvonne sighed. "It wasn't only you. It was Justin and all the grief...everything happened at once."

"I know..."

"And Heather was a real piece of work in her mid-teens..."

"She wasn't so bad...but I s'pose she could be a handful at times..."

Yvonne raised her eyebrows. "Of course she was always Daddy's girl, and still is. Worships the ground you walk on, Max. You must remember how I struggled with her...and to think I was so upset when she ran off to join the Army, and now I believe it did her a world of good. We haven't always seen eye to eye but she apologised to me, not too long ago, actually. Impending motherhood is making her realise a few things she'd not quite understood before."

"She was a good kid and she'll be a great mum."

"She was a great kid, but a strong-willed teenager and still is in many ways. She wasn't easy at times, but you're right, she'll be a great mum."

"And we get to be great grandparents."

"Hold your horses," Yvonne said, chuckling, "Let's just be grandparents first and worry about being great grandparents when we're much, much older."

Max laughed, then unexpectedly, Yvonne moved over and cuddled into his side, resting her head on his chest. She was shivering, ever-so-slightly, and without a second thought he pulled the blanket around her, and then his arm around her shoulder, and she let him, and he pulled her against him. They cuddled, the wind picking up outside, rustling the leaves in the trees, and occasionally there was a loud bang, likely sticks blowing against the shed.

After a while, she whispered, "Tim's a fine man and perfect for Heather. They're really cute together, too."

"He's a great bloke."

"He's a little bit like you back in the day, but he's not so...cocky, and maybe more cautious about things."

Max laughed. "He's less Vitruvian man and more brick shithouse, especially since he and Heather exercise most days, doing weights and running like I did back when."

"He is a solid guy," she whispered. "Heather said he used to play Rugby a fair bit."

"Rugby League. He calls it footy, but it's not real footy. What would a Queenslander know about real footy, eh?"

Yvonne chuckled. "But he moved here for Heather and he's a genuinely nice fella."

"He is, and bloody good company too. Watches cricket, tennis and any football, likes a beer and a chat, he's great to Heather, I can't fault him one iota."

"And Ryan's with his girlfriend up in Brisbane."

"Georgina," he said, nodding. "Only met her the one time they came down last year, but she seems lovely."

"Heather told me Greggory was being a racist about her?"

Max took a deep breath, annoyed with his brother. "Yeah, at Mum's eighty-first last month. People were talking about the virus and he mentioned something about Ryan dating a Chinese girl and implied some shit. It didn't go far. Greggory's being his usual self."

"A stirrer?"

"Something like that..." They lay in silence for a while, then Max said, "He keeps going on about the Torry, like he's going to sell it under me nose."

"He wouldn't dare. To begin with, it'd be theft."

"I was thinkin' though, perhaps I should bring Her up to Heather's place or somewhere. I should do Her up and sell Her."

"You can't sell the Torana!" Yvonne said, lifting her head from Max's chest, outrage in her voice. "She's our history."

"I can't drive her, Vonnie." He waggled his stump against her side. "I only have one working leg and foot, and She has three pedals. She shouldn't rot away in the shed either."

"I'm sure you can drive her." Her voice was serious, but then she sounded defiantly cheeky. "If you can't, I will."

Max laughed. "Okay, sure, we'll take her for Sunday drives up the coast."

"To the beach! The one near Swansea where we picnicked on our first date."

The memory came to his mind and he instinctively pulled her against him again, and she lay her ear against his beating heart. And she said, "You could bring her up here. Do her up in this shed. If you need parts, I'll show you how to find them online."

"Vonnie, your offer is wonderful, but...this pandemic...and I can't be in your way forever."

"Pfft," she snorted dismissively, "There's heaps of room here and you may as well stay as long as you like."

After a moment of thought, Max said, "It's not like we know how or when this bloody disease will stop, and it could be forever."

"We'll, if everything goes pear-shaped, we'll hold out here as long as possible."

"Can we hold out till the end of the Earth though?"

She held him a little tighter. "Down here is the end of the Earth, and we can hold out forever if need be."

Without a second thought, Max leant forward and kissed the top of her head, her hair fine against his lips, and she pulled him even tighter. He whispered in the darkness, "There's no one I'd rather hold out with till the end of time, Vonnie."

"You told me something similar before," she whispered. "I believe you were on your knees holding up the diamond ring you'd spent more than a year saving for."

"It was worth it."

"You could've spent less than a quarter of the cost and I'd still have said yes."

"I know, I was crazy," he said with a laugh. "I'd never felt crazy about someone before and couldn't imagine being crazy for anyone, but I was crazy for you."

She gave him a squeeze. "Like I was crazy, because I shouldn't have slipped my phone number to the cocky young footballer who was showing off in front of his mates in the first place."

He chuckled. "Taking more chances on me tonight, eh, Von?"

"It's not like I'm inviting you to sleep in my bed."

He laughed again, pulling her into him. "But here I am, in what is essentially your bed, with your head against my beating heart."

She took a deep breath, yet he was sure she was smiling. "We're like two lost socks, you and I, drifting apart in the washing pile of life for years, then coming back together this last week-and-a-half."

Max smiled, laughed, but was confused. "What are you on about, Von?"

"Well," she said, her head still against his chest, "You know when you wash your socks, then when you put the washing on the line, one is missing, so as you sort the washing you leave it to the side and wait for its partner to turn up...?"

He wiggled his stump again and chuckled. "I'll take all the lonely single socks since I only have one foot."

Yvonne sniggered. "You'll look great in my dainty little pink ankle socks, Max." He chuckled again, then she continued. "When I lose a sock, I put it on top of my dresser, where it waits till its mate turns up in the next load or sometimes in a week or so. Currently I have at least one sock where I think its mate is gone forever, perhaps it blew off the clothes line or something. This sock has sat there on its own for a long time, but hopefully its companion will turn up and they'll be together again!"

"So let me get this straight," Max said. "You and me are two lost socks, separated somehow in the wash, maybe one or both of us blown off the line by the wind, but now we've found each other again?"

She clicked her mouth. "Yep, something like that."

"So...we're now a pair of socks...?"

"You're a stinky sock who missed the wash all together."

He kissed the top of her head. "Am I the right sock?"

Yvonne giggled. "Socks aren't left or right, they're universal!"

"Sure, but am I the right sock?"

"Oh, the right sock for me...?" She paused and Max smiled, and then she said, "I'm not sure, Max. But I'll tell you something right now. I've never gone looking for another sock to pair with before you came up to me down the waterfront, nor since we parted. I've never shown interested in other socks, ever, I don't care for other socks. You know me, mostly happy on my own. But we happened to chance upon each other and made a great pair for twenty plus years, which is something, despite the pain since."