Predominantly Concerned with Sex

~* *~

The black dirt gets right in your skin. Every lunch tastes a little bit of diesel or hydraulic fluid. The hours drag with the same weight of the scraper bucket behind me. I prefer the excavator, but we're finished cleaning the channels out with the mud buckets and this new ring tank needs building. I haven't spoken with Glen since I rang him that same afternoon.

Mostly I was afraid of doing nothing.

While I'd been working there was no time for thinking, just doing. I worried that if I did nothing for too long, I'd start thinking again and thinking leads to remembering and remembering leads to hurting and more thinking. She was only a memory these days, but she would always be part of me.

They pay me almost fourteen hundred a week to drive big Tonka toys from dusk till dawn one month then dawn till dusk the next. I get a little self-contained unit they call a 'donger' and electricity for free. All my meals are provided and they even let me fill the ute with petrol on Saturday mornings for the weekend off in town.

I've made a few acquaintances over time.

Megan has introduced me to other people my own age. Mostly blokes. The male to female ratio in town is a bit funny because of all the industry jobs available. But to be honest I really haven't thought much about fucking since Isa left. I certainly don't want to go back to that meat market pick up life. There's been a few drunken offers, but I've mostly kissed them away with a 'raincheck' apology.

I've been to visit Andrew and Angie. Also, Dad. It's about a seven-hour trip so it's an occasional luxury. The kids cried last time I showed up and again when I left.

"It just feels like my home now, Anna." I told the little blondie.

There's not so much social stuff with the earthwork as there was with the cotton. Every evening when we'd shut down on the cotton, we'd share a meal that the boss's wife had brought out to us. The earthwork is a bit lonely in comparison, we eat together but I still carry that 'happy' back to my donger alone and dream gently of an evening.

One thing that does concern me was a conversation I had with Richard, one of the other operators at the pub one afternoon.

"Do you even look at the clips I send you?"

"Ah... why?" He sends a half dozen porn clips to all of the other operators and I every evening.

"Well, you never comment on them or anything. The other blokes do. Are you queer ya cunt?"

"Not queer. Just don't watch a lot of porn anymore. Kind of grew out of it I guess."

"What's wrong with porn? You still pull your pud don't ya?"

"Sometimes." I shrug.

Megan shakes her head at the conversation and makes herself busy up the other end of the bar.

"Well, what do you think about when you choke one out if you're not looking at porn?"

And that was the problem. Sometimes I remember Isa . Sometimes I remember Nelly's bedroom walls. All those chicks in those videos he sends... They make me wonder if they're feeling like Nelly. Used. Like any of those words she scrawled on the wall.

My old ute needs an oil change and the filter blown out, so this weekend I'm staying at the farm and getting that and some tax stuff done.

There are choice words that accompany any twirling of spanners and despite Andrew's guidance over the years, I've not assimilated his affinity for engines.

"Motherfucker!" The oily spanner slipped off the sump plug as I was trying to tighten it back up after dumping the old oil. My knuckles feel like I've been smacked with a shovel. Wrapping the rag around my hand I roll back out from under the ute to find an androgynous looking young person smirking down at me with their cap on backwards.

It's either the prettiest boy I've ever met or a country girl who doesn't give a fuck about haircuts and makeup. I can't help but stare.

"I'm Jane."

"Robert Holmes. Sorry for the language."

She shrugs, smirks like she's just found something she'd misplaced and looks at my hand where the blood is already seeping through the rag.

"Show me. I'm third year nursing." Jane demands and reaches for my hand. I watch as she dabs at me with the dirty rag and exposes a half inch long gaping cut in my knuckle skin. "Ok then. Sit."

She points at the steps to my donger and goes back to a quad bike I hadn't heard pull up. Returning with a first aid kit, she makes quick work of cleaning my hand.

"Gonna need stitches, Robert. You trust me or do you want to run into town."

Her eyes are death traps. I hadn't noticed before but the teasing brown orbs twinkle like an enticement to certain demise. I'm sure men have fallen into them and been thoroughly consumed before.

Shrugging seems like an answer. My voice is untrustworthy right in this moment.

"Fuck!" It still works though. "Don't you get a needle first? Ow! Where did you- Ow! Get sutures? Fuck."

"Haha. Pig dogs, Robert. They bang themselves up now and then. Hang on, I'll wrap that up for you." She deftly dresses and wraps my injury then stands and pats me on the shoulder. "You alright now tough guy?"

I nod.

"So, Mum said to come and ask if you'd like to join us for dinner."

"Mum is?"

"Mary. Mary Bowen. Dad is Glenn. Your boss."

"Oh."

"Well, yeah... Boss's daughter." She smirks cheeky dimples at me and raises an eyebrow. "So, officially you can't say no to me. Are you done with the rust bucket?"

"I should put oil in. Just finished dropping- what are?"

"Shut up. Sit. Got a funnel? Oh right." I watch as Jane climbs up the bull bar and sits in the engine bay to fill my oil. "How much?"

"All of that one and a half litre out of the little bottle."

"All done. You should wash up a bit. Mum's fussy."

"What time?"

It's her turn to shrug. "Whenever you like. Dad's cooking barbeque. I think he just wants some company while he has a few beers. Are any of the other boys around?"

"Maybe Charley."

"Okay. See ya Robert."

"It's Bobby."

She stops and looks me up and down seriously. "No... I think you're a Robert. Bobby sounds like a baby name."

Then she's gone in a little cloud of dust and my hand starts throbbing like it had forgotten it was hurting while she was talking to me.

She ignored me the rest of the evening. I drank beer with her father and even Mary laughed through a few conversations with me. But Jane just frowned whenever I caught her looking my way. Charley got more than a few words out of her. I overheard her telling him about university and some bloke called Gerry that she'd broken up with.

"...church in the morning." I caught the end of something from Mary.

"Sorry."

"We're heading into church in the morning, would you like to come with us dear?"

"Oh... I'm not much of-"

"If I have to go, you have to go. Boss's daughter, remember?" Jane smiled at me.

"What do I even wear?"

"Doesn't matter. Just make sure it's clean, Bobby." Glen told me. "I'll make it up to you. Lunch at the pub after, mate."

I nod and everyone seems to be getting up to leave so I do the same.

"This way, Robert." Jane tells me. "I want to check those stitches."

Jane says nothing in the kitchen as she unwraps my hand and checks her earlier handiwork. She puts a little stingy stuff on them then wraps me back up again.

"You have good hands, Robert. Are they gentle ones? They certainly look like hard working ones." Her look is pointed.

"I guess so." There is a gravity I don't understand.

"See you at church." She smiles and nods at the open door.

I hadn't been to a church since Andrew was married eight years ago and I was only eighteen then. It was pretty much how I remembered. Afterwards was different though. They all stood around outside and I realised why church was so important to Glen.

This was where business was done. These cotton moguls made million dollar promises and contracts over cups of tea and biscuits. And the women made all sorts of contracts as well. I'm sure I explained I was single to about four of the older ladies and by the end of things Mary took pity on me and sent me to the pub to make sure our table was ready.

"It's busy today, Megan." I take my beer and look about.

"All the kids are home for the holidays. You wore a clean shirt? Are you trying to impress me, Bobby?"

"Got to keep in sweet with the prettiest girl in town."

"Especially if she's pouring your drinks ere la, old mate." Megan laughs. "Might just roofie you one of these nights. Take you upstairs to my dungeon and take advantage of you."

"Promises promises, love."

Everyone is wearing their Sunday best. It feels a bit like I've woken up a hundred years ago. Family's bustle in the lounge. Young people laugh and carry on in the bar. Some of the older locals dot the bar as well, and I wonder how I coped at all in the city. This felt so damned busy, and it was probably only fifty or so people.

"Jane!" Some young bloke from across the bar shouts and hustles himself toward the door where he wraps her in a big hug. And she disappears into a huddle of people her age.

Mary and Glen push past and make their way over to the reserved table. I follow them and Mary thanks me.

"You're a good kid, Bobby. Why do you keep to yourself so much? I had a dozen old floozies ask why you were single."

"Just working, Mary. No time for nonsense."

"Bullshit boy." Glen laughs. "I've seen men look like you look before. You're hiding from something. Working yourself to the bone so you can forget it. But that's your business. Mary... It's his damn business, love."

"A friend killed herself." There it is. And it doesn't even hurt so much to say out loud.

"Jesus lad." Glen laughs. "Well, there you go chooky. You know his secret now."

"Not really a secret." I laugh, "But not something you really talk about. I needed to get out of the city and start over."

"We've all been there." Mary smiles and Glen nods.

That got to be a regular thing after that. Jane would check my hand each day. Some days she'd ride down to where we were working, others she'd come to the donger when I was finished. She'd dress it and it was all done very professionally. Then we'd sit on the tailgate of the old F truck and talk shit for a while and flip off the workers that pulled piss out of us.

Charlie in particular was a bit of a dirty old bugger.

"Oh hurry up and fuck already you two." He'd tease.

"Fuck off Charlie." One or the other or both of us would laugh and tell him.

Glen and Janey would pick me up of an evening sometimes to take me pig hunting or shooting roos. The first time I saw Jane grab a pig by the back legs and flip it while snarling hell hounds tore at its ears, I learned a new respect for the gentle girl who tended my hand and nursed me. When she stuck its neck with a big old knife and held it while it bled out, I told myself not to fuck with her.

Glen and Mary would stop outside on Sunday mornings and pick me up for church. The old ladies stopped asking questions. More than a few young ones started flirting.

They had this thing they did at church where they confessed things. Someone would take a turn to tell a little bit of a life story and often it didn't paint them in a very good light. They called it 'witnessing' and spoke about their journey with Jesus. How he saved them. It seemed a little trite. I like to take that journey of growth quietly and keep my trials to myself.

"So, your friend." Jane started one night toward the end of December while we were having a tailgater.

"Nelly."

"Was she pretty?" The stitches had long since come out, but she kept up her daily visits.

"Yeah. Here." I pulled out my phone and scrolled to her page. Then I passed it to Jane and watched her look through. She was in the custom of lately bringing a six pack of beer down to the dongers after we all finished work. I was on the early swing until mid-January now, so had evenings to myself.

"Do you know why she killed herself?"

"She had a mental illness that led her to become pretty promiscuous and she couldn't deal with the regret and shame. That's the short version."

"Was she bi-polar? That's a pretty common story."

"Yup."

"And how come you're out here in the bush hiding your head in the sand?"

"I wasn't much better."

That shut her up for a little while. We just sat on the tail gate of the old ute and watched the sun dip low and finished our beers.

"You know, Robert... most of Dad's workers are a bit creepy. They've all hit on me at one point or another."

"You're a good-looking girl, Janey." And she was in her tomboyish manner. Those eyes that drank me in and her coquettish boy cut hair. She had a generous work-fit curve to her figure and while not my usual bimbo style, she was a beautiful woman.

"You don't creep on me. You don't chase skirt all the time in town too. I've seen you knock sheila's back when we have Sunday lunch."

"I'm creepin on ya plenty, Jane. How come you don't bring me no god damn beers eh, princess?"

"Fuck off Charlie." She laughs and tells him.

"Well fucken quiet down, eh? Or go inside and make grandbabies for your lovely Mum, kiddo. Watchin the fucking footy over here, eh."

"Charlie?" I shake my head.

"Yeah, fuck off... I know." He laughs from the donger next to mine and it reminds us we need to keep our voices down a bit. I think seriously for a moment about her question before quietly blurting.

"I don't much want to be like that guy I was anymore. I want to be the sort of guy, that the sort of girl, that I imagine spending life with, deserves."

"What's she like? This girl you want to deserve?"

"Loyal. Playful. Kind. You know how every town has that sweetheart? That one girl that everyone knows and loves."

"Is she pretty?"

"She is but it doesn't matter to her."

In the moment I wondered how it was so easy to describe this fantasy woman until I realised, I was just describing Janey.

"How do you know she deserves you?" She asked kind of sadly before kissing me quickly on the cheek and riding off in a cloud of dust. There's a stupid smile on my face as I watch her ride off. She's so very much not my type.

"Bobby?"

"Charlie?"

"There's a bush-pea out here in the scrub. Bright red little cunt. My Nan showed me how you can crush it up and just a little bit in someone's tucker or a drink... You can even blow it in their face. Dead in minutes. That's boss man's baby. And we all loved her growing up. You hear me, cunt?"

"Rogie." It's how you say 'understood' on the two-ways. "Charlie?"

"Yeah, I know. Fuck off." He laughs and cracks another beer.

~* *~

There was an awkward silence followed me down between the old silky oak pews. Mary had smiled and Glen just frowned and winked. Jane's mouth opened and her disbelief followed each of my steps. But I owed her the truth about who I was, and I want to be honest with myself. If these people accept me, it will be because they know all of me.

I took a deep breath in and blew my doubts out.

"I don't know much about this Jesus fella. But I know that someone led me here to all of you. I think the God that's real to me, is the one that lives in people and comes out as kindness and help. A while ago, my best friend in the world took her own life due to mental illness."

Then I described Nelly's walls to the congregation. Their hushed silence rang through my heart as I continued.

"And the worst thing is, I was one of those men. I was one of those guys that scrawled all those horrible things across girls' hearts. I used women like toys with no care for their feelings. Looking back, it was like an addiction. Like hunting. Women were trophies to me and when Nelly died, I finally saw myself. I was a predator."

"It was easy for me. I'm tall and not horrible to look at. And I learned to say the things that girls liked to hear. I danced ok and made good money."

"My relationships were built on sex and I never understood why they all failed. My father is a smart man. A blunt man. He asked me once why I kept doing the same thing expecting different results. That's what urged me to make changes. That and Nelly. I know suicide is supposed to be a sin, but I really hope Nelly is some place happier now where she feels good about herself. I know I am."

Silence followed my footsteps back to the pew in the little church. Mary stands and hugs me. Glen shakes my hand. Jane is unreadable as she frowns and moves to let me sit. I'm embarrassed now and have no idea what prompted me to stand when the pastor asked if anyone wanted to witness.

An older lady in front of us turned to hug me. "Boy you would have loved the sixties. Thank you for sharing."

Pastor Margaret spoke for a few minutes on bible verses about our bodies and how we used them to honour god and how we sinned mostly against ourselves when we misused them. After church a lot of men shook my hand and a lot of ladies hugged me. Perhaps this is the forgiveness that the bible talks about.

I spoke my truth and these people just let it slide right by without judgement. Maybe that god that lives inside them all, stretched out his healing through them. I don't know, but it was like another one of those weights that I took off my shoulders and sat down on the ground to leave behind me.

Jane was quiet all through lunch then excused herself to make her own way home.

"Is she ok? Did... Did my-"

"She's fine, Bobby." Mary smiled. "Little girl has a big crush on this guy and she's trying to work out how to deal with it. This is what she's like when she's thinking."

"Arsehole better treat her good." Glen grumbles.

"Do you know him?" I ask. "Do I know him?"

"He's alright, Bobby." Mary tells me. "Eat your steak."

Perhaps... Surely not. Not me...

Then a dark thing wraps me in its web. I see Nelly's wall again and frown imagining some bloke making Janey feel like that. The rest of lunch is quiet. Glen and I talk about maintenance and Mary fusses on Christmas preparation. The rest of her children will be coming home and I'm informed I'm not invited, it's now in my contract that I have to attend.

It's just on seven-thirty and I've assembled myself in the back of the old ute on a pair of couch cushions with a bucket full of beer and some ice to watch the sunset on this weird old day. It's like every day out here someone gets up and paints a sky for me, then every night it turns to blood and washes the day's sins away.

Red, the colour of flames and bleeding, splashes as far as I can see to the west and the boiling yellow ball of the sun drops lower in the sky. The internet says it's dust in the atmosphere that makes the sky so red out here. To me it's just home now. It's how things should be in a much smaller world where words and deeds carry weight they don't in the city.

My name is Robert Ruben Holmes and out here that means something. In the city it's just a pigeon squawk among a million others.

The sound of a quad bike approaching jolts me from my daydreams and deep thoughts.

"Hoy dickhead. Want some company?"

"Hey Janey. Climb on up." I pull the cushion from behind my back and make a place for her to sit.

"So. The man-whore is drinking his sins away?" She looks sideways at me and grabs one of my beers.

"Something like that."

"How many?"

"Six. I've got a few more inside but they're hot."

"Women. Not beers. How many chicks have you fucked?"

"Oh. Okay then. Um..."

"Don't lie to me, please." There's a dark threat in the quiet request.

"Well, the truth is I couldn't give you a number. don't know. But every other Friday night, god sometimes Friday and Saturday, different girls. Why is this important to you, Janey? I don't feel good about it."

"Six."

"Yeah, half a carton inside still. I'll just have to put them on ice."

"No, me... Six. Six people."

"Oh."

"Too many?" She settles back against the tub and leans against my arm as she opens her beer.