Onwards From This Point

Thoughts PLEASE!! :)

17. True Feeling. Using language that is simple and straightforward, describe intensely and exhaustively a moment of true feeling between two characters.  Meryl Streep says that when she’s researching a character she’s going to portray, she always gives the character some simple secret that no one on the set, none of the other actors, and none of the other characters knows about.  Give the character you’re showing us this moment of true feeling through a secret, but don’t reveal the secret either to us or to the other character.

Onwards From This Point 

Our last conversation was fiery and filled with much misspoken, misplaced confused anger. Nothing at all unusual for dad and I. On that occasion we both pushed to a snapping point and neither bothered returning to neutral.

That was over a year ago. Dad hasn’t bothered to get in touch and I’ve followed suit. Mum always said, ‘you two are like a stubborn pair of old work boots, neither one prepared to give up the fight before the other’. Seems dad and I both have our separate lives now, even when I lived on the farm dad never seemed to have much the time to spend with me either. 

The argument in point flared up late night on the day of mum’s funeral. If mum ‘would of, could of’ risen momentarily from her grave she’d’ve landed right between us, given us both an exasperated slap and demanded we both ‘wake the hell up before it’s too late’. Her leaving dad and I alone to deal with life was not the best out for her in my opinion.

Mum always said, ‘you are just like your father,’ that old phrase that every kid loathes to hear. I can’t see the similarities, even now. 

Dad’s old school. ‘School each day, head home, then straight back out to the paddock’s where my father was expecting me. He and I’d work ’til the sun long set. If I complained, I’d’ve felt a familiar backhand. Kids knew their place back then, we knew if we didn’t help we shouldn’t go expectin’ any dinner. Not like these days, kids run a muck and your mother certainly don’t help any with pullin’ you in line boy.’  Ah, dad’s words reverberate within mechanically throughout the moments of my days. 

We fought often over the years, dad and I. Mum tried her best to keep the balance, but when dad faced off, the situation became volatile, quicker than a striking brown snake we’d both flare up and stoking the already bursting flames. Dad’s vision was for me to take over the farm, ‘the way it’s supposed to be,’ he’d say, ‘the way it’s been for the past three generations.’ But it became apparent to me early on that I was not cut out for farm life. A life filled with tractors, cattle, docking sheep, downing beers at the local pub and mending fences was never an idyllic life spent scenario. 

Me, the only child left dad with no-where to go. Being mum’s little boy, I got away with so much more than I should’ve. Eventually dad gave up trying to coax me out in the paddocks with him each day. In disgust, he’d leave me at home with mum. I physically heaved with relief each morning pre-dawn when I saw the light from the ute’s headlights drive into the darkness of coming day and I was no less relieved when he more often than not did not come home in time for dinner. 

Besides the farm and everything in it, I had other stuff I had to contend with. My sexuality. 

Realising I was gay in my early teens confused my underwear right off me. I’d masturbate with Michael Hutchence staring down at me from the poster he inhabited above my bed, and late at night when the farm was sleeping, I’d lie wide awake dry-humping my pillow imagining I was f*****g the guy whose name I never knew who worked at the local fish and chip shop. 

I was a farm boy, I came from farm lineage �"how the hell could I be gay? None of anything was making sense, except one thing, which was never telling my father his only son and child prefers men to women. I imagined his fury, I flinched at the thought of the beating I’d get with him trying to sort me straight again.

Accepting I was gay cemented my dream of getting the hell out of the country and into the more tolerant city. I left the farm at seventeen and pretty much never looked back. Mum fought back her tears when left her at the train station, although I like to believe she knew it really was the best avenue for me.

I never once mentioned my sexuality to my parents or anyone. I was a coward then, still a coward now too I guess. Damien, my boyfriend, convinced me to tell dad about my sexuality. Damien's parents are aware he is homosexual and have never even questioned it. ‘What’s to question?’, Damien says, ‘it’s plain as day I’m gay, nothing anyone can do about it but accept.’ 

And so it was on the night of mums funeral everyone who had come to pay their respects for mum finally went back to their weary country lives. It was just dad, myself and Greg, the farm hand, who was making himself incredibly useful not saying much. He kind of just hovered in the background clearing plates, stacking the dishwasher, putting chairs back where they belong. He also made sure dad and I kept our glasses lined with scotch. Each time he came out to where dad and I were on the porch dad looked into the paddocks and not at Greg. It was a small thing I noticed, I wondered how poor Greg was going to go alone now with dad.

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the right time for my conversation of choice. The lack of food and ample scotch loaded me with courage enough to broach the topic that had placed fear right at the base of my belly for so many years.

Most of the conversation has been blanked from my brain. Self-preservation I guess. I do however remember snippets of dad’s vehemence.

‘Jesus christ, �"now? You think this is right to tell me this now?’

‘Your mother and I always knew you were gay, you thought running away to the city would fix everything for you.’

‘It’s not easy you know, the life you have chosen.’

‘What exactly do you want from me? A blessing? Christ why the hell do you need to come back here and tell me what I already know? What do you want me to do?’ 

‘Ok you’re gay, great, is that gonna fix the fact the farm hasn’t has any water near on two years? No.’ 

It was strange. As much as dad was yelling at me, it was like he wanted to let his guard down and tell me everything was going to be fine, but at the same time, I had only ever seen him communicate with country bravado. He didn’t know how to deal with what I was telling him and because it was my father and our father-son communication lines were never mastered, my own inadequacies in articulating thoughts at the height of such a heated moment came to the forefront. 

Everything I’d learnt about remaining calm and navigating arguments at law school slid quickly down the nearest snake hole. 

After my initial admission, ‘Dad, I’ve something to tell you, I’m gay and have been in a relationship with a man named Damien for a while now,’  I saw his face harden before he took a long slog of drink. Silence followed and I knew in that silence his tirade would soon begin. Then in my usual habit, allowing emotion to take over, I faced his temper face to face, with my own.

‘You’ve never been there for me. You have always been too busy running off into the paddocks and disappearing until late at night. You pretty much ignored me, I was never good enough for you. Then when you knew I didn’t want to spend my life as a farmer, that’s when you cut me off. Clearly, me being gay doesn’t sit well with a broody farmer like yourself. Have you ever thought how that makes me feel?’

‘It has nothing to do with you being gay,’ dad cut in.

‘Oh?’ Would you care to tell me what it is about then?’ 

That shut him up. The ball was back in his court and he was uncomfortable. This was his opportunity to lay all his cards on the table, but it’s dad, he’s always kept his hand close to his chest. I have never in my life been able to figure out what he thinks. 

In dad’s silence, I realised I had come all this way, and dad was still the same man as always. Mum was no longer here and without dad’s support, I knew with a sudden jolt of real-time reality, the rest of my life would be faced alone. That’s when the tears pooled my eyes. I couldn’t help it, even though Damien is waiting at home for me, without dad, I had no family anymore, I felt cut off, cast out and left behind. I’m not ready to be orphaned, not yet. 

Dad, notices me become distraught in a matter of moments, he sees my tears and decides he’s had enough. ‘My bloody son…’ was all I heard as he stood shaking his head in disgust walking into the darkness of the night.

Greg came to my rescue. ‘Give him time,’ he said with his arm around my shoulder. ‘he’s a lot to deal with just now.’ 

But I didn’t give him time. An embarrassment to my own father, that’s what I was. I had to leave, I had to leave right then. I convinced Greg to drive me into town. He dropped me at the train station where I waited it out for the first train to arrive in the morning. As expected, dad didn’t bother come find me.

So here I am. Over a year later and coming back to see dad with my tail between my legs. Again, this visit is Damien’s doing, god knows I wouldn’t have courage enough to come back out here without a decent push from the man I love. Damien even wanted to come with me, to meet dad. ‘He’s your dad,’ he said, ‘you’ve met all of my family, don’t you think it’s time I got to meet what’s left of yours? I never had the chance to meet your mum. I know you’re scared, but you are his son, he’ll come around.’ 

Dad didn’t bother coming to collect me today from the station. Sent Greg to collect me instead. Doesn’t like driving after sunset he says, ‘too many roo’s on the road, eyesights not as good as it was.’ Who knows what the truth of it is.

Greg struck me then, as he has done now, as a kind and level headed guy for these parts. Dad’s lucky to have him working for him. He’s sporting the same Acubra as last time, his face is flecked with golden days old whiskers. His jaw line is cut solid like the granite cliffs way up back of the farm and his grey specked curls drop rather charmingly, for a country boy, down to his shoulders. It’s hard to sit here and not imagine being alone with Greg in one of the hot, dusty sheds on the farm. He’s built well, his masculinity is deep set and takes not time at all for arousal to finds its way to my groin.

Neither of us have spoken more than an empty dam full of words to each other. Hasn’t been uncomfortable though. He’s obviously in his own head, just as I am in mine trying to think about anything except my impending meeting with dad.

Five more minutes pass before we come to our final stop right out front of the house I grew up in. So many memories ping back like pebbles under the tyres of the ute on a dry road. I had a cowboy suit when I was four with a gun holster in my belt and all. I never took it off, those were the days when dad still had time for his little ‘boy’. 

‘Cheers mate,’ I say to Greg, as manly as I can muster, for his sake not mine, as I jump out of the ute. He nod’s back with a grin I could quite easily misinterpret while I gather up enough courage to get inside.

‘I’ll see you real soon.’ Greg says, out of context, but drives off before I get a chance to analyse the meaning.

I don’t knock, the doors are never locked out here. I leave my bag in the hall and head for where the lights are on in the kitchen. Dad’s at the stove, a beer to the side of whatever spiced up meal he’s cooking. Dad cooking, now that’s a first. He didn't hear me come in. My hands have a thin layer of sweat over them and my heart is maxed up triple time. I don’t want to surprise him, I want to slide into this quick visit and exit the same way without inflicting any unwarranted tension. 

Instead of announcing myself, I quietly walk back to the front door, open and close it with a bit more clamour this time in the hope he hears me. 

It works, when I get back to the kitchen dad’s looking toward the direction from where I enter, beer in hand. 

‘Gday,’ he says, looking genuinely happy to see me. 

‘Hi,’ I say, and head in for what will be a somewhat awkward embrace, given that we have never been the most affectionate family. 

Dad’s embrace is strong and all encompassing, momentarily reminding me of Greg’s jawline. I wasn’t expecting this, relief sweeps my inners and I physically relax into his hold.

‘Help yourself to a beer,’ he says, releasing his hold. ‘I hope you’re hungry, I made butter chicken and beef madras for dinner.’ 

‘Not only are you cooking, but you made Indian? You’re a changed man dad.’ 

‘I am capable of a great many things you may not be aware of,’ he says with a proud smirk. ‘Anyway, cheers,’ we clink beer bottles, ‘and welcome home �"even if it’s only for a few hours.’ 

He doesn’t say the last bit with any malice, it’s just his way, nevertheless, he does manage to let some guilt slip rigidly under my skin. I take a long slug of my beer in the hope it will remove the edge off my own strained demeanour. I remind myself, this is my dad I am talking to, he means me no harm. Damien is always telling me I distort my own surroundings by making situations seem worse than what they actually are. He says I worry a lot, and unnecessarily. I can’t say he is not on point.

‘How’s everything out here?’ It’s the most broad, open ended question I can possibly find, positively nailing the fact that my relationship with this man is so much further away than the most distant star.

‘Oh you know, it’s the farm, there’s always something to keep us busy. We’re lucky this year, the rains have been regular, had over eight millimetre’s this past month, don’t know if you noticed, the whole area for three hundred kilometres is blanketed bright green. Nice change compared to the last ten years of drought. Certainly takes the pressure off living hand to mouth. The herds are breeding nicely, we gonna make a decent profit this year, about to take four hundred head to market in two weeks.’ 

‘Good to hear the water’s up, it’s always been a luxury out here.’ I’m saying a bunch of words that he already knows too well already. I need to relax. ‘So, you got some good help out  here helping you run the show?’ 

‘Yeah, Greg’s been the real change. Came along all those years ago with new ideas and practices to help the place through the drought and when it did finally rain, he took charge and knew exactly what to do to make the most of the water while we had it. Smart man Greg, I fought him every inch of the way, I have to admit, he has been right on every call. I’m extremely fortunate to have him in my life.’

I can’t help to think he must have mellowed if, he’s allowing someone else to call the shots. Not only that he’s speaking about Greg in a manner I have never heard him speak of another person. He has always held the reins on his farm, no-one else would ever get a look in.

‘What about you? How’s the big smoke treating you? Are you a hot shot lawyer yet?’ Not sure if he is evading talking about my being gay or not, but I am enjoying what could possibly be the most relaxed conversation I have ever had with dad. 

‘I’m a lawyer, yes, hot shot, no. I work for a small firm in the city, they deal mainly in contract law which I find a bit tedious, it’s really just the same old thing day in day out. I’m planning on doing my masters next year, after I have saved some more money to go into the International Law side of things. Then I will be dealing in country to country matters which interests me further.’ 

‘My son, a big shot lawyer,’ he says, raising his beer in appreciation, ‘you were never meant for farm life, you were clearly meant for greater things.’ 

The beer I just tipped in my mouth is caught in my throat, he’s taken me by surprise, I swallow the liquid hard and fast, so fast the ball of liquid stays as a solid ball rolling slowly like I’m swallowing a golf ball. Dad’s never been big on compliments.

‘Thanks dad, means a lot. I was always under the impression you wanted me to stay and work the farm with you.’ Whether the beer is taking advantage of me, or if I am taking advantage of it loosening me up and giving me my very own bravado, I’m not sure. 

‘I may have been upset when you left, but you’re my son, of course I'm going to be upset. You taking over the farm was the only option I ever knew. You’re my only child, if not you, then who? What’s the point of working my arse off each day if I can’t hand all of my life’s work over to you?’

‘I never thought …’

‘Hang on, I haven’t finished. As you got older, even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, it became obvious that you were not cut out for farm life.’ 

‘Why because I’m gay?’ I say as a twinge of anger seeps through me. I should’ve known it was too good to be true.

‘No, not because you are gay.’ He says it with such ease. ‘Because you are simply not cut out for farm life. Your kind of hard work is mental. You’re smart, you figure things out. God only knows who you got your brains from to get yourself through law school. Me on the other hand, I’m physical. The farm is all I know, all I have ever known, it’s in my blood, this was the only life I was ever going to lead I knew that early on. But you were made for a different path and look at what you’ve achieved, with little or no help from me. I have to admit, you’ve done yourself proud.’

My throat is constricting all over again, this time, it’s because I’m forcing myself not to cry. To distract myself, I take another swig of beer. 

Dad must’ve noticed my inability to deal with the situation. ‘Now make yourself useful and set the table, there’ll be three of us.’ 

‘Three? Who’s the third?’ 

‘Greg’ll be here after he’s driven the stock back from the bottom paddock.’ 

‘Oh good, I like Greg, he has a nice feel about him.’ I hoped I wasn’t giving dad the wrong impression by saying this. The fact that we have only touched on my gayness hasn’t given me a real indication of how he feels about it. 

‘Yes, he does.’ Dad replied with a drawn out ‘yeesssss’, sending my head into a bit of a spin. 

Dad trots back to the fridge and grabbed two more beers passing me one, then he busies himself forking air into the freshly cooked rice. I laid knives, forks and serving spoons on the table, smiling as I did so, thinking perhaps it would have been okay to bring Damien along.

‘So, when are you going to tell me about this boyfriend of yours? Damien isn’t it?’ Dad said, like he was tuning into  my thoughts. I stopped frozen for what I thought was only a millisecond. ‘Look, I know the last time we spoke I said some pretty awful things. Your mother had just passed, there was no money, no water, no stock. You come to the funeral after having not visited for near on five years. Then you tell me you’re gay. It wasn’t that I didn’t already know this. I mean your mother and I had our suspicions all our life, but we didn’t want to voice it in case it wasn’t true. We didn’t want to hurt you. I guess it was just the timing of it all. I may have said words back then I didn’t mean. I was a melting pot and you just being here triggered me to boil over and explode. You were the recipient of all the bad that swirled around inside me. There was much more going on back then than you have never been aware of?’ 

‘Like what?’

‘Now’s not the time to get into it.’ 

I’m left wondering what else can there be, but I leave it well alone. 

‘I understand. I haven’t been the best son. I know I haven’t always been here.’ 

‘Forget about it, I’m sure you had to go away and figure things out for yourself. Figuring out your sexuality in a small country town ain’t easy.’ 

‘Well that’s the sweet truth.’ 

‘I’m just sorry your mother and I didn’t support you more when you needed it.’ 

‘Well, everything has worked out nicely for me now anyway dad. And I am here with you, and I am surprisingly glad I finally came.’

‘I’m glad too,’ he said placing naan bread in foil to warm in the oven, god knows where he got naan bread from out here. ‘So, Damien, what does he do? When do I get to meet him? I was thinking of taking a trip into the big smoke after we sell the cattle, see what all the fuss is about. Perhaps I can meet Damien then?’ 

‘Firstly dad, you in the city? Alone? Do you think that’s a good idea?’

‘Greg’ll come in with me, he’s from Paddington originally, he knows his way about.’

‘What? Paddington? Really?’ I’m starting to think I am drunker than I believe I am. Too much has happened in the space of five minutes, yet nothing has really happened at all. I think I need to eat. Nothing’s making sense anymore. It’s like dad had been flipped on his head and turned into a man I have never before met. Then Greg, from the city? Dad and Greg venturing into the city together?

‘Yeah,’ says dad moving on and away from the subject of Greg a little quicker than I would have liked.

‘Um… okay, secondly, Damien is dying to meet you. He keeps asking when he’ll finally see you in person. I just didn’t ….’ 

‘All water under the bridge son, let’s just call it all water under the bridge.’ Dad places his arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. ‘As you get older, you realise just how important family is, and you are the only family I got left, I want to see more of you, before it’s too late. Do you think we can do that?’ 

‘I think we can do that dad.’ 

Reviews

[Philip Muls]

I got quickly absorbed into the story's flow and the dialogues, very authentic.

Quite a cliff hanger...I feel guilty of thinking the father has discovered he himself is also gay after his wife passed away? And also Greg is gay? Maybe I am seeing things that just aren't there. You bring out the worst in the reader...

Intriguing and well done !

[KWP]

Hey Philip :)

Cheers for reading my friend, means a lot - I am wondering if the dialogues are as authentic as you say - I really have to work on that - also I think 'the secret' of dad being gay is a bit too 'plain as day' as everybody is seeing it for what it is ... I may have made that a bit easy on myself :)

in any case, it was an exercise ... hope you are well ... where ever you are ... X

[Philip Muls]

I am in Beijing China now, cheers

[Einstein Noodle]

i was going along the same lines as Valentine ...or that the secret would be something else and we would only have hints of it:} the story hooked and held me for the most part but i confess i did speed read through the last bits of conversations ... the father son relationship is very relatable even without the gay issue ..he sounds so much like my own dad as i was growing up ..both stubborn and very Irish ...when veins stuck out on my dad's forehead he was "discussing" ..gotta love it ...persistence pays off and i'm happy for the positive ending in your story ..tho we go round many times we do change as we grow .. and my dads last 10 years or so found us very comfortable with each other and in our discussions and beers .. i can not say how grateful i am for this turning out so ... so well done Ms. KWP!! ;)
E.

[KWP]

aren't you a delight and treasure for reading that ... thanks E ... so of you were speed reading, that's not a good thing. This was however and exercize and I was trying to convey the elements required, but still if you fekt you had to speed read, there must be something amiss :) Love to you E X

[Einstein Noodle]

only towards the end .... i don't spend much more than an hour total on line .. just a habit .. and i am here for the poetry for the most part .. and the more of that i read the more i learn :)) normally i don't read these longer pieces .. but hey! its you that wrote it :))))))

[Valentine]

Very well written. As for the secret, I was waiting for the dad to say he was having an affair with Greg the farm hand. Valentine

[KWP]

Thank you so much for taking the time to read ... it really is very much appreciated X

[Lisa A from Colorado]

I suggest that when your character tells your dad he's gay, that the dad react more to that. When my child told me "the news," it was very difficult and scary. That's why I didn't hear about it for so long. And for me, it was a jolt. The child I thought I had, and the future I thought was going to be, died and I had to grieve. So, I would show your dad having a physical reaction.

[KWP]

Nice comment ... Thank you for that ... I understand where you are coming from ... I guess in the whole context of what I was trying to achieve and where the characters were placed in their own timelines of their life, a bigger reaction was not warranted, but I see your point and for that I thank you very much X

[Lisa A from Colorado]

Yeah, I guess. If the story is about your m.c. and not really about his dad, that makes sense. I know from my writers' group the reader doesn't always have the same orientation, so it can be of limited help sometimes.

[Lisa A from Colorado]

Interesting reversal!

[KWP]

I think it's always great to see and understand how another person reads your writing. It gives me a new perspective that I hadn't yet thought of - so I appreciate your thoughts. what do you mean by 'interesting reversal'?

[Lisa A from Colorado]

The changes in the father at the end.

[KWP]

:) thanks again ... it really is much appreciated X

[guy drori]

Well I must say that I enjoyed the read :)

[KWP]

well thank you Guy.