A Pair of Lost Socks

"Ryan's my only grandchild to make it to University," Norma told Tim, "And he's my only grandchild not here with us today. It's like he escaped from Tasmania."

"He's here in spirit, Mrs Coughlan," Tim replied. "He spoke about Tasmania all the time, and about his family too, including you. He always used to tell me about how you made the best apple pies, and cherry pies, and cheese cakes and especially your lemon meringue pies."

Norma laughed. "You almost speak of Ryan as if he's no longer with us! Oh, and you can call me Norma, I told you last year when we first met!"

Tim chuckled and said, "Well, Norma, I'm pretty sure Ryan wants to return here someday, like Heather did. He talked about it all the time when we lived together, but he liked his job up there too. Now, whether Ryan can convince Georgie to follow him here, there's another thing. Took him long enough to convince her to date him in the first place!"

Eventually Heather joined them and Max watched and listened as his Mother praised Heather on her choice of partner and asked them if they were getting married any time before her long life came to an end. They told her they had no such plans as yet, but they'd recently travelled to Queensland to attended Tim's cousin Erin's wedding, where she'd arrived in a beautifully restored carriage pulled by two magnificent Clydesdales, giving them a whole bunch of great ideas should they ever be married. And since Tim's cousin was actually a wedding photographer she'd even hinted she'd love to visit Tasmania and even offered all their photography needs for special family rates. Then they spoke of how they'd caught up with Ryan too, and of course Norma wanted to know all about how Heather's pregnancy was going.

Several relatives came to Norma, saying their goodbyes, but few approached Max with more than a nod or a cursory farewell. Thus, Max was surprised when the one of Annie's granddaughters, approached him, asking if he really had a wooden leg like a pirate. He laughed and said, "Arrrgghh, it be true, 'cept it's not wood, but it's carbon fibre."

With a giggle, the girl asked, "Can you take it off?"

Max laughed, nodding. "I can, but it's too much of an effort right now."

"Grandma told me a box fell on your real leg and they cut it off?"

"It's Lauren, isn't it?" The girl nodded and Max continued. "It's not a nice story, young lady, but yes, a box fell and broke my leg and they had to cut it off."

Lauren smiled, climbing up onto the lounge's armrest to sit at Max's side. "How does a box break your leg? Boxes are made of cardboard and they can't break you!"

"This box was full of heavy air-compressors and was on a heavy timber pallet."

"Ow!" Lauren said, her pale blue eyes widening. "Did it hurt?"

"Very much so."

"Did you scream?"

"I yelled, I think. I can't really remember."

"Did you swear?"

"Probably."

"I swore when I accidently scrapped my knee at the park the other day and Mummy told me not to. But I was bleeding and Daddy swears all the time. Were you bleeding?"

"Yes, I was bleeding."

Lauren's eyes were wide and full of sympathy. "How does a box fall on you anyway?"

"I was guiding a forklift to lift the box off the back of a truck. It slipped off the forks and landed on my leg, trapping it."

"You were trapped?"

"My leg was trapped for a little while, yes."

"Oh...did someone have to cut your leg off with an axe to get it out?"

Max laughed. "No, not an axe. With a scalpel, later at the hospital."

"What's a scalpel?"

"A special knife a surgeon uses."

"What's a surgeon?"

"A doctor who operates on people."

"A doctor who cuts off legs?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Is Aunty Heather's husband a doctor because he works in a hospital?"

"No, Tim's a nurse. And he's not quite Heather's husband...but I guess he is."

"Does he help cut off people's legs?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"Did he help cut off your leg?"

Max chuckled again, shaking his head. "No, not Tim. My leg was taken off long ago, before Heather knew Tim."

The girl thought for a moment, then said, "Grandma said you played football and cricket all the time when you were a boy, and ran around the forests and swimming in the river, fishing and hunting, making you grow into the toughest man on Earth before you lost your leg."

"Oh, did she?" Max used the opportunity to turn the questioning back on Lauren. "Do you like football and cricket and running around in forests?"

"Sometimes. I like to watch football with Daddy and my brother, but Daddy swears at the TV and Mummy tells him to stop."

Max chuckled. "Yelling at the TV's something we all do. Next time he does it, tell your Daddy the players can't hear him through the television."

"He mostly yells at the umpire."

"Umpires can't hear him either, and they're all blind too."

"That's what Daddy says!"

"He's right. What team do you go for?"

"The Hawks of course." Her tone suggested it were a given.

"Correct answer," Max said, smiling. He searched for more questions. "So what else does your Grandma tell you?"

"Well, she said you and Uncle Greggory never did anything she asked when you were kids and would fight her every step of the way. She said she didn't like you or Uncle Greggory back then."

Max chuckled. "Your Grandma is few years older than Greggory and me, so she helped your Great Grandma and Great Grandpa raise us. We didn't like her telling us what to do all the time, but we didn't realise it was her job back then. We thought it was our job to defy her."

"Did God punish you by taking your leg, for not listening to Grandma when you were a kid?"

Max's laugh was hearty and genuine, and much louder than he'd expected. Conscious of the looks they were getting, he spoke quietly. "God punishing me? No, and I'm sure you didn't get the idea about God from your Mum or Dad...or from your Grandma."

"No, it was Mrs Taylor. She tells me about God sometimes."

"And who is Mrs Taylor, your teacher?"

"No, she's our next door neighbour. She's old, like Grandma and you, but not as old as Great-Grandma."

"Maybe you shouldn't listen to Mrs Taylor so much? And I don't think God has anything to do with my accident, because it was simply an accident. We were...complacent."

"Complacent," Lauren slowly repeated the word. "What does complacent mean?"

"Maybe over-confident. We were on auto pilot..." Max looked at Lauren's quizzical face, knowing more questions were forming in her clearly bright brain. "We were tired and made mistakes and I got hurt. I don't think God or anyone else had anything to do with it...just our carelessness."

"I think Grandma has forgiven you, anyway."

"Forgiven me?"

"For not doing as you were told when you and she were kids. She said you were a wild boy back then and didn't know better. She said you grew up into a fine man, but Uncle Greggory didn't. She says the only thing Uncle Greggory loves more than money is himself, but she said you love your family more than anything."

"Perhaps she shouldn't be telling you these things. But what else did she tell you?"

Lauren thought for a moment. "Grandma said you married a very beautiful lady who is Aunty Heather's Mummy, and she said Aunty Heather looks very much like her, but Heather's hair is shorter and wavy because everyone's hair is curly on our side of the family, and Heather's Mummy's hair was long and straight like golden silk, and she told me it was the most beautiful hair in the world..."

"Okay, that's, ah, pretty true, I s'pose..."

"Is it true Heather once had two brothers but only has one now, and he's in Queensland, and the other brother is de..."

"Okay, okay," he said, cutting Lauren off suddenly, wishing the girl would be quiet, a heavy pressure building in his chest, solid and weighty but overwhelmingly empty at the same time, Justin's face even more like Yvonne's than Heather's filling the space in his mind.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Grandma did say not to talk about it, but I forgot. She told me you have a car here too, like she has horses here and Uncle Greggory has cows. She said your car was really, really fast, like a race car. Can you show me?"

Max shook his head. "No, sorry...not today."

He stood, shakily, suddenly wanting to be away from the girl, who was still talking, asking, "Where are you going?"

"Um, outside. It's been lovely to chat, but I need...some...air."

Lauren's face was the picture of disappointment and Heather came over to them, perhaps seeing her father needed a break, the girl asking, "Did I upset Uncle Max?"

Heather sat and said, "No, sweetheart, Uncle Max's a bit tired, that's all."

"Oh, because old people get tired, that's what Grandma tells me...Aunty Heather, are you really a policeman?"

"I'm a policewoman," Heather corrected her with a laugh, and the girl giggled.

"Mummy said you were a soldier in the Army before you were a policewoman."

"It's true, I was a soldier."

"Did you have to hurt people?"

"No, sweetie," Heather said, smiling, and Max stopped in the doorway, fascinated to see his own daughter interact with the young daughter of her cousin. Heather continued, telling Lauren, "I was a medic so it was my job to help people."

"Helping people's good. Mummy says never to hurt anyone, ever, but always help people who need it."

"Yeah, hurting people is bad and helping is very good."

Lauren paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, then said, "Daddy pretends to be a soldier on our Xbox all the time. He kills people on the internet and tells me it's not real, but he still gets angry and yells and swears and Mummy tells him to stop and says it's only a game, but he doesn't. He only stops to smoke his funny grass and hang out with Uncle Dale. He grows pot plants for the smelly grass he and Daddy smoke. They don't have nice flowers though, not like Grandma's pot plants, which have pretty yellow and red flowers, and he doesn't even grow them in pots! He has a special house, but I've never seen it."

"Oh, maybe you shouldn't tell your Daddy you told me about your Uncle Dale's pot plants."

"No, I won't because Daddy told me not to tell anyone about Uncle Dale's plants. Dale's not my real Uncle, anyway. Mummy doesn't like him...sometimes she tells me I must never hate anyone, but I know she hates Uncle Dale." The girl stopped then started again. "Is it true your Mummy's hair was long like golden silk?"

"Not golden, but lighter, like mine, the colour of sand on a beach. She dyes it now though because it's gone grey like my Daddy's and your Grandma's hair."

"Grandma told me your Mummy's hair was beautiful and she always wished her hair was straight like your Mummy's."

Heather laughed. "My Mummy always wanted curly hair like your Grandma's and my Dad's, and like your Mummy's hair too, and if she knew you, she'd like your curly hair as well!"

"Why isn't your Mummy here?"

"She lives up the coast."

"Why did she want curly hair?"

"Because her hair was straight and people with straight hair want curly hair. And people with curly hair always want straight hair! And my hair's somewhere in between, and most days I don't know which way it's going to go, except on wet days like today when I know it's going to be scraggly."

"Scraggly," Lauren said with a giggle, "That's a funny word."

Heather broke into a giggle too, then both girls giggled harder, and Max smiled, knowing his daughter would make a great mother. He wanted to listen to them more, glad he'd heard their interaction, and regretting he'd left Lauren too, because she'd given him the most attention and intelligent conversation since he'd arrived, but he made his way to the back of the house instead.

Greggory and Rodney stood on the back veranda, both sitting on the long bench seat, each holding a beer and cigarette, laughing. Max mentally groaned and when Greggory saw him, his brother called out, "Bloody hell, Maxie, you still here, I'd thought you'd shot through after lunch?"

"Funny, I thought the same about you."

"What were you doing at lunch anyway, taking the Greenie's side again? Bloody hell, you know all the things you used to say..."

"Don't you dare," Max said, hobbling past without stopping. "You bloody well know exactly what you were doing back there."

"Fuckin' hell, Max, lighten up, cobber. We're all entitled to our opinions."

"Yeah, sure, and we're all entitled to tell ya where to stick ya opinions too. Especially when you bring Ryan and his missus into it."

"Yeah, I know, sorry. I know you used to have a bit of yellow fever back in your day, shagging the Chinese sheila from the university, so I guess Ryan's a chip off the old block, liking to play around too."

She weren't the only girl I was sleeping with at the time, Max thought. "Drop it, Greggory. It's none of your or my business who anyone else dates."

"Well, Maxie, me old boy, you and me are six generation Australian, and soon Heather's gonna add the eighth generation to your mob, but if Ryan and his sheila..."

"I know what you're trying to imply, but stop. It's none of our business."

"You've changed, Max. You definitely have."

Max let Greggory's comments slide, ignoring his brother now, no longer having the energy or desire to argue. He stepped down to the lawn, heading over to King who was still tied up and dry under the shelter of the veranda's generous eave, despite the incessant drizzle. Max gave him a pat, King looking up with an ear cocked and tongue out, wagging his tail when Max produced a slither of roast lamb he'd hidden in his hand and King devoured it, wagging his tail profusely. "You know I'd take ya for a walk if it weren't for me bloody leg, but ya Mum and Dad will be out in a bit, young cobber."

Several family members left, including Greggory who didn't bother saying goodbye, but Bev approached him and quietly said, "I'm so sorry about before. I've spoken to Heather and Tim too. Heather's upset with me, of course, because she thinks I should've stopped Greggory, but it's not like I can make him do anything."

"I'm sorry too, Bev. But if someone doesn't stand up to him, he's gonna keep doing this."

"He'd do it anyway."

Max shrugged and nodded, looking into his sister-in-law's vibrant-but-tired blue eyes. Despite trying to maintain a semblance of elegance and beauty, time was taking its toll on her, or perhaps it was her marriage doing the damage.

Not like I'm the picture of health these days, Max thought. He gave Bev a smile, telling her, "Hey, you take care of ya self, Bev."

She smiled and caressed her fingers gently down his arm. "You too, Maxie."

Tim and Heather joined him moments later, and Heather asked, "What with you and Aunty Bev, Dad? I saw her touch your arm just now and the way you two looked at each other."

Max laughed. "She was sayin' good-bye, like people generally do when they farewell each other."

Heather gave her father a cheeky grin. "You two have the hots for one another?"

Max laughed again, and shook his head, but said nothing.

"Gonna take Kingy for a little walk, Max," Tim said, untying the leash while giving King some more meat, which he gobbled up. "Won't be long though, because of this weather."

"This weather's perfect Tassie weather," Max laughed, sticking his hand into the drizzle. "Take as long as you like and enjoy yer walk."

Heather gestured towards the shed. "You haven't gone into see Her, have you."

"Nah. I wanted to do it when everyone left. Couldn't stand it if anyone came sticky beakin'."

"Aw, Dad. You sure? We can stay if you like and stop anyone bothering you."

"Nah, nah, you two go. I need to be alone with Her. Like I said, take yer time."

Heather smiled and gave Max a peck on the cheek, and she and Tim walked away hand-in-hand down the gravelly drive, King pulling them along. Only Annie's family were still about and none were in the backyard, so Max hobbled to the shed, feeling the rough bare timbers of the door, a splinter sticking slightly into his finger, which he pulled without fuss. He took a small key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock, unhooking the chain, opening one door two-thirds to let the light in, but not draw too much attention to anyone who might come out and see the open door and perhaps disturb him.

There was a shape in the dimness, a silver polypropylene cover reflecting the light from the door and cracks in the walls, coated with a thick layer of dust, more dust floating around the shed too. Max bent down to one corner, his body aching, pulling the elastic hem and lifting it, a flat tyre showing in its yellow flared wheel arch, mag rims looking dull with a hint of rust, then a chrome bumper too with more rust, the round headlights sunk in their square ports, black grill, black bonnet, the fat reversed scoop protruding...

"Hello, beautiful," he whispered, caressing his hand across Her front quarter-panel. "Sorry I haven't visited for a while."

She sat there, silently staring ahead, indignant at being cooped up for years and years in this cold and dusty prison, untouched, undriven, unloved.

Max did love Her and felt a heaviness in his heart because She deserved better, flicking the cover over the cabin, letting it fall across the boot, leaving it hooked on the spoiler, and he whispered, "I'm so sorry, my Girl."

He touched the driver's door handle, lifting it, and She creaked a little in protest when he gently pulled the door open. "I know, I know. It's been too long. Look, both our joints are a bit rusty, but I'll get you some oil, I promise. Hmm, not as much dust as I'd expected."

Max lifted his prosthetic leg by hand and awkwardly swung it in to the driver's foot well while collapsing onto the seat, lifting his good leg in too, then he pulled the door shut with another creak. Resting one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shifter, he said, "Well, here we are, my old friend."

The odometer read 297,643 kilometres. "We did a lot of miles together, didn't we?"

He pressed the accelerator, then the brake with his right foot, but couldn't press the clutch with his prosthetic left. He looked down into the dark foot well, seeing the three pedals there and his useless left leg, and said, "And this is why we don't see each other anymore."

A shadow flickered across the light seeping through the shed, and a second or two later the left-hand passenger side door opened with a protest, startling Max. Looking up he held his hand over his beating heart and whispered, "Shit!"

"Did I scare ya?" It was Annie. Max gave a grunt, and without an invite his sister climbed in and closed the door again. "Not as dusty as I'd've reckoned, but a bit musty in here."

"She needs some love and attention."

Annie chuckled. "Don't we all?"

"Dunno what you mean," Max said, a smirk on his lips. "I'm a specimen of health."

They were silent for a while, and Max began to feel a little uncomfortable, till Annie said, "Saw you talking to Laurie."

"Lauren? She's a little journalist in the making, isn't she? Question after question after question."

"Or a detective. She's inquisitive and doesn't miss a thing. I saw she might've upset you and I think she knows it too."

Max gave a slight derisive snort. "She said you told her about Justin."

"Oh, yes, I did...some time ago and accidently, mind you. I did ask her not to mention it."

"Kids, eh."

"Yeah, sorry, Max."

He grunted and they were silent again. He looked ahead, through the windscreen and partly open shed door, seeing the orchard of apple-laden trees. "This place is falling apart. We need to organise help for Mum to keep it going."

"This is why I'm moving in with Mum, to help her out. Had nothing to do with the new disease coming, but if things get out of hand it'd be better if I'm here with Mum. We're not putting her in a home anytime soon, not while she's still mostly independent."