The Fall Ch. 04

He ignored her the next time came around to help Cyril. It hurt, but she understood. He'd tried to do something nice for her and she'd just written herself off, as if he wasn't even around. He deserved better.

On Thursday a few royalties hit her account. It added up to the better part of three grand, so she figured she'd do the right thing and go and see him after he'd finished work. She needed to drop off the Charger and pick up the Getz. Pay him whatever it was she owed him.

She wasn't the only one who was there. Two men were also there. They, along with Dylan, were standing around some dark and greasy piece of machinery when she arrived, but all three stopped and stared as she pulled up in the Valiant.

'Bad time?' she asked.

Dylan shook his head. 'No. We're just trying to figure something out. Give us a minute.'

She took the milk crate outside, away from the men, and went and had a cigarette while they did their thing. Ben came up for a pat and she scratched behind his ears, just where he liked it. He was friendlier than Cyril's dogs. He licked her face and she tried not to think about alcohol. Alcohol free days were the pits.

The men spent the better part of forty-five minutes sorting out their woes. She knew when they'd succeeded, because frustrated remarks and copious amounts of curse words were replaced with laughter and banter. Then they were off, leaving just her and Dylan.

'Sorry about that,' he said. 'Grant has a 1985 John Deere tractor... never mind. You're not interested in that, are you?'

She shrugged. 'I came here to apologise. I'm sorry.' She reached into her pocket. 'Here's the key for the Charger. What do I owe you for my Getz?'

'I haven't finished with it yet.'

'It doesn't matter. I'll just drive it until it dies, anyway.'

'Or until you die,' he countered. 'I'm not giving you the keys until it's fixed. It's not safe.'

She snorted. 'And what am I supposed to drive, huh?'

He gestured to the Charger. 'Keep it until your car's ready.'

'No. That's the sort of thing you do for a girlfriend. I'm not your girlfriend.'

'Why do you think the only thing I care about is sex?' he demanded, frustrated. 'Men aren't that shallow, Lydia.'

'A lot are. Who do you think is at Cyril's house right now? His wife of twenty years, or some Thai slut who's willing to spread her legs?'

He reached over and closed her hand around the keys. 'Go home. I don't want to fight with you. I really, really liked you.'

'Well I like you, too. Even though you're fat and you're hairy and you're just this... this stupid fucking oaf of a hick. You're just like everyone else out here, with their fucking guns and denim and tractors. Whatever. I don't care. I'm not taking your Charger, though. I'll call a taxi.'

He laughed.

'What?' she demanded.

'A taxi?' he repeated. 'Out here?' He took her hand. 'Lyds, don't be silly. Take the Charger.'

'No.'

'Yes.'

'No.'

'Yes.'

'No.'

He shrugged. 'You want to keep arguing, or do you want a cup of water?'

She considered the question. 'Water would be nice, please.'

They went inside the shed and he poured them each a cup of water. He hadn't shaved or tidied his beard since Monday and it was looking a bit wild and woolly, and he smelt of sweat and deodorant and degreaser. She missed him. She wanted to sort things out. She wanted to sort herself out.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and refilled his glass. He offered her a refill, but she shook her head.

'It's so fucking hot, isn't it?' he said. 'It's a shit of a summer.'

'We need a storm.'

He reached over and very gingerly touched her hair. 'You looked so beautiful on Monday.'

'And then I ruined it,' she acknowledged.

'It wasn't how I was hoping the evening would end.'

'I had my period,' she reminded him.

He gave her his dark, defensive, look. 'I wanted to take you to a lookout. I wanted to be one of those stupid, cheesy men kissing his girl on the side of the road.'

She touched his face. 'You're too good for this.'

'So are you.'

They moved closer. She laid her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating and feel the strength of him. He patted her comfortingly with his rough hands, and she pressed harder against him.

'Oh Lydia,' he grumbled.

'I know,' she said.

'I wish I could fix you.'

'I wish I could fix me, too.'

He kissed her. 'One day.'

Maybe.

'One day,' she lied.

They went to the shower and stripped off. She knelt down in front of him, his cock in her mouth, while he groaned and bucked his hips. When he was done, he moved his hand between her legs, ignoring the tampon string she knew he must have felt. His fingers found her clit, and he rubbed until she was squeezing his arm between her thighs and desperately whimpering his name.

They didn't bother drying off. It was too hot to bother. They just went to his bed and lay down together and talked. Not about anything important, just Cyril and cattle and wild pigs. He laughed at her for taking a picture of the piglets, and she jabbed him in the ribs and told him to be quiet.

'I did Google your Charger,' she said. 'I apologise for calling it a piece of crap.'

He was pleased. 'I'm glad to hear it. When I'm finished with it, your Hyundai won't be a piece of crap, either. That poor car. What did you do to it?'

'A mechanic told me I needed to have four hundred dollars' worth of work done, and I ignored him.'

'Why?'

'I don't know. It just seemed pointless. It's only a Hyundai.'

'It's a good little car,' he said.

Lydia snorted. 'Don't let Cyril let you hear that. He calls it my 'midget girl's car'.'

'He just enjoys stirring you. He's really chuffed you moved out to help him. He talked about it for days before you came out.'

'Was I what you were expecting?'

Dylan laughed quietly. 'No.'

Lydia wriggled into a position where she could see his face. 'Better or worse?'

'Better. Far, far, better.' He pulled her on top of him and kissed her. His hands moved over her naked body, settling on her bum. 'I really like your bum. It's so white and it has those little dimples in it. It's the same on the back of your thighs.'

'Cellulite. It's called cellulite.' She buried her face in his neck. 'It's not supposed to be attractive.'

He shrugged. 'You called me fat and hairy, and you still sleep with me.'

'You are fat and hairy. I don't know why I like it.' Lydia gently sucked on his earlobe. 'Does that feel weird?'

'Uh no, it feels good.'

'You say that about everything that I do.'

'It's true,' he argued. He placed her hand on his erection. 'Here. Feel that.'

'Could you go again?'

'What a question. Of course I could.' He groped her breasts. He found a nipple and pulled it into his mouth. He sucked hungrily until she broke the suction by putting a finger in the corner of his mouth. 'Don't take it away,' he complained. 'It tasted good.'

She jerked him off while her breasts hung in his face like two heavy, overripe fruit. He seemed to enjoy it. It took him a little while to cum, but he got there in the end, and they wiped him clean and had another cuddle.

'I should go home soon,' she yawned.

'I wish you could stay here for a few days. Maybe one day, after...' he trailed off, realising what he was about to say. 'One day after you've finished taking care of Cyril'. What a horrible thing to say, even though it wasn't as if he wished Cyril dead, he just wanted some time along with Lydia.

'I understand,' she assured him. 'Some days I just want to head back to my flat. Then I worry that by wishing I was back home, I'm wishing him dead. But that's not what I'm wishing, and I know it's not what you're wishing, either.'

He nodded. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too. It's ridiculously early for us to say that, isn't it? Last week, when we were at the creek, I looked at you and realised that you were going to fall in love with me. I wondered if that was a good idea. I didn't even stop and consider that I might be falling for you, too.'

He kissed her. 'I love you. It doesn't matter to me if it's too soon, or if we're being stupid. I love you.'

'And I love you.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan knew they were close, and that they looked like a couple who had been together for years. It probably had a lot to do with her drinking and Cyril's cancer. He had to support her. No, not her. Them.

He was the one who helped clean up her vomit, who put her to bed, and who measured out Cyril's medication. He and Cyril would sit out the back after she'd passed out and talk about what to do about her. Sometimes he'd roll Cyril a joint, and another one for him, too. They were funny days. Time seemed to be intermittently fast and slow.

They would have been together for about a month when Kyle's Buck's Night rolled around. It was a Friday night and the whole affair was being held at a second cousin's house. Cyril was also invited, and once he realised it was a poker night with topless waitresses, his eyes lit up and he started counting down the days.

On the night of the party, though, Dylan was anxious.

'I'm not sure we should leave Lydia alone,' he said, glancing at his lover.

Lydia rolled her eyes. 'I'll be fine. Just go. Take Cyril to look at titties.'

Dylan dithered about, wondering whether he should just stay home with Lydia. They could drop Cyril off, and pick him up whenever he'd had enough.

'She'll be fine,' Cyril barked at him. 'Let's go. We're missing out on the action.'

'The girls don't come until seven,' Dylan said. 'The only thing you're missing right now is an overcooked steak that's someone's cremated on a barbecue.'

'Better than the crap Lydia serves up,' Cyril said. 'She'll be fine. I'll only last a few hours. You, Dylan, can stay as long as you want.'

'Seriously,' Lydia reiterated. 'I promise I'll be okay. Get in the car. I'll drop you both off. Cyril can call me when he's ready to come home.'

'But if you drink...' Dylan said.

'I won't. I promise. Not until Cyril's back home.'

They'd stopped pretending she might give up drinking. Now it was simply enough to put restrictions on it. Dylan stared at his girlfriend. He could feel himself relenting.

'This isn't about you,' Lydia said. 'It's about your friend. He's getting married tomorrow. It's a big deal. He's probably nervous.'

They piled into the Charger and drove over. Lydia climbed into the driver's seat and waved them off. Dylan was worried, both for her and for himself. He hoped Cyril was the sort of man who behaved when he'd been drinking.

Neal spotted them arriving and came over. He had with him his girlfriend's brother, and he wasted no time introducing him to Cyril. Neal's brother-in-law and Cyril may have been separated by thirty years, but they were both highly interested in tits, so Neal and Dylan left them to it.

'Thank fuck,' Neal muttered as they made their escape.

They got beers and steak sandwiches - which were better than Lydia's - and found Neal's brother Ali. He was Kyle's eldest son, and his name was pronounced 'Ally', not 'Ali', because this was Australia and nicknames were a necessity, even for half-Lebanese kids.

'I heard you moved out,' Dylan said to Neal. 'How's it going?'

'Can't rate it highly enough. No in-laws, no Cora, and no sneaking around trying to have sex because Claire couldn't spend a night away from home and heaven fucking forbid I stayed over,' Neal replied. 'The shit we used to do just to get laid. How's Lydia? Slowed down with the drinking?'

He shook his head. 'She's still pretty bad.'

'Dad was the same,' Ali said. 'Every night after dinner he'd have a cigarette in one hand, and a drink in the other.'

The three of them turned to see if Kyle was anywhere nearby. He was maybe three metres away and talking to a mate of his. A cigarette was in one hand, a drink was in the other. His feet were shackled together, in someone's idea of a joke. Dylan wondered if Neal and Ali had heard the rumours about their father. He hoped not.

'Just like that,' Neal agreed. 'But without the handcuffs, or footcuffs, or whatever the fuck they are.'

Ali laughed. 'Footcuffs,' he repeated with a snigger.

The boys were drinking at a cracking pace, and Dylan wandered off, leaving them to it. He wanted to stay sober until he knew Lydia was okay. He found his youngest brother and the two of them went upstairs and borrowed the host's bong. There was a lot of meat, a lot of alcohol, and a lot of weed here.

Later, they went to play cards. Back when he was married to Michelle, Dylan had gotten deeply involved with the local Texas Hold 'Em competitions. It was initially a way of killing time, but he'd grown both good at it and fond of it. He'd seen a sign in Toowoomba about an upcoming poker night and had considered going, until he remembered that it was at a pub, and if he took Lydia with him, she'd end up getting drunk.

Tonight, he wasn't so much interested in looking at some random woman's chest as he was in winning. Poker bought out his competitive side. Cyril, who had a cigar clenched between his teeth, told him he didn't know if he should be impressed at his skill, or alarmed at the fact he wasn't interested in getting a face full of tits as a topless waitress bent over to put a new beer in front of him.

'No point looking if you can't touch,' Neal informed Cyril.

Neal had always had a smart mouth. Dylan was grateful for it.

'That's the problem with your generation, you've got to have it all,' Cyril retorted. 'Can't just appreciate what's in front of you, can you? You think your girlfriend's jugs are going to look like that in twenty years? Think again. You're going to be holding out for these nights, and when they come around, there'll be none of this shit about not being able to touch them. You'll learn to appreciate a couple of ladies giving up their Friday night to let you have a look at their assets.'

Fuck. Old men. They always had a comeback. As the men laughed, Dylan played with his pile of plastic chips and waited for the next hand to be dealt. Hopefully it would happen before Cyril laid into him again about his non-staring at boobs.

Was Lydia okay? Had she been drinking? He hoped not. It was Friday. Most people went hard on a Friday but it ironically wasn't one of Lydia's worst days. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays were bad. Fridays and Saturdays were relatively tame.

Cards were dealt. His were shit. He folded early and rolled a joint from the pile of ganja in the middle of the table. He offered it to Cyril, who accepted it and put his cigar aside for a few minutes to get stoned. Dylan rolled another for himself. Then he allowed himself a few more drinks.

The girls left after a while later. Dylan looked around and realised Cyril was nowhere to be seen. He had a mild panic attack until he was informed Cyril had been picked up by Lydia. The old man had wanted him to stay and have a good time.

He was reluctant at first, but without Cyril, and without the girls, he was also more at ease. Two of his brothers were here, plus several mates he hadn't seen in a while. For most of his life, he'd done a lot more listening than he had talking, particularly when it came to women.

He'd never really known how to respond when people asked about Michelle. Was he supposed to say? 'We live together, but we don't even eat dinner together?' Everyone else had always done things with their partners. Weekends away. Day trips. Arguments over whether Pepsi or Coke was going in the shopping trolley. They had sex with their partners and, as they got older, kids. There had been none of that with Michelle.

Lydia made things different. Several times a week she would drop into his workplace at lunch with a burger and fries for him. She'd picked up car parts for him more than once, when he didn't want to wait for a courier or pay a stupid amount for freight. Watching her around the cattle was still hilarious. She was terrified of them. He didn't have the heart to tell her it was the pigs she should have been scared of.

He felt like more of a man these days. He understood conversations that had previously gone sailing above his head. Was it worth putting up with her drinking? Absolutely. She was so beautiful. She'd literally turned his life around.

'So where's Lydia from?' Kyle asked him.

'Brisbane somewhere,' he replied. 'She's told me the suburb and I tried looking it up because I wanted to see if it was near Acacia Ridge, but I can't find it.'

There was an informal meet-up of car owners each Friday night in Acacia Ridge. They met at an old-style shopping strip, taking over the parking lot with their pride and joy. Dylan hadn't been there in five years, but he was keen to make another trip, this time with the Charger.

'Do you think she's lying to you?' Kyle asked.

'No. I asked Cyril where she was from and he gave me the same name.' He shrugged. 'They said 'Chardon's Corner' but there's no suburb called that.'

One of the other men had been listening in. He was sixty and not out, and came from Brisbane.

'Annerley,' he corrected. 'A lot of the Southsiders call it Chardon's Corner, but it's really Annerley. There's a big pub there, called Chardon's or something. Maybe that's where the name comes from. It used to be a rough area. Not so much anymore, but there are the Africans there, now, and the rich folks over at Tarragindi and Yeronga. 'Diverse' is what they'd call it.'

'Is it near Acacia Ridge?' Dylan asked.

'You want to see the cars at Elizabeth Street?'

Dylan nodded.

'Sure, maybe a few kilometres down the road. Count on it taking you ten, twenty minutes minimum to get there from Annerley because of the traffic. More in peak hour. Has your girl still got a house there?'

'She rents a flat,' Dylan explained. 'Cyril said he was going to die quickly, so she's just kept paying the rent. She goes back every week or two to check on things.'

'You should go back with her next time,' Kyle said. 'Have a look at the cars and see what you think of the area. If you stay with her, one of you is going to have to move.'

Dylan shook his head. 'I can't imagine living in a flat.'

All the same, he was glad to have the mystery of her residence explained. He'd like to go and stay at her place sometime. It would make a novel change from the country.

The night wore on and in the early hours he ended up crashing in a recliner. He didn't wake until eleven, when he was asked if he wanted fried eggs and toast. He took a few paracetamol, drank a coffee, ate his eggs and felt, if a bit tired, quite reasonable.

He rang Lydia and asked how she was. She said she was fine. Cyril had made it home safely and they'd both gone to bed soon after. She asked how he was.

'I don't really get hangovers,' he admitted. 'I just need to get home, have a shower and pick up my suit.'

'Do you want me to come and get you?'

He did. And when she arrived half an hour later, he was happy. He slid into the Charger, touched her hair and face, and told her he loved her.

'Cyril said you played up,' she teased.

He rolled his eyes. 'As if. He's a dirty old bastard. Someone told me over breakfast he gave the girls an extra fifty each on his way out as a tip, and they let him have a good feel.'

'I thought you weren't supposed to talk about what goes on at buck's nights?'

'Lyddy, he's your uncle. If I have to listen to the shit he gets up to, you do, too.'

She laughed at that. She understood.

~~~~~~~~~

The wedding had been quite nice. Dylan hadn't half minded it, even if he had no desire to ever get married again. Marriage had been ruined for him. Lydia said she felt the same way. Together, they didn't need a piece of paper to tell them how they felt about each other.