A car door slammed.
Hylas peered into the darkness. ‘Is that you, Fidel?’
‘Who else are you expecting at two o'clock in the morning?’ A solid looking man jogged up the steps and stopped in surprise. ‘Fuck you’ve grown. Are you sure you're you?
Hylas laughed nervously. ‘I’d never have recognised you. You're…bigger.’
‘But just as stupid. You were still up?’
‘Of course! My big brother was coming. I couldn’t sleep. Come in.’ Hylas led the way into the house. ‘Where's your gear?’
‘I'm wearing it.’
Hylas stared in confusion. ‘But…’
‘I can’t stay. Have to get back tomorrow. Don’t worry; I'm not going to do a Mum on you and leave you high and dry. But I'm dead on my feet and stink. All I want is a shower and sleep. We can talk in the morning. Are there still two beds in our old room?’
Hylas nodded and led the way, determined to conceal his disappointment that Fidel wouldn’t be staying. But nervously hoping that what he meant by not leaving him high and dry meant he might be…No, better not to get his hopes up.
‘Feels funny being here again. Go to bed; I know where the bathroom is. Try to sleep. I won’t be long.’ Fidel peeled off his tracksuit pants and a tank top that looked several sizes too small, and draped them over the back of a chair, revealing a chunky, powerful, tanned and hairy body that set Hylas’s pulses racing.
‘Where are your shoes?’
‘In the car; I prefer driving in bare feet.’
Left alone, Hylas sighed, removed his shorts and shirt then curled up in bed, eyes wide, too worried to sleep.
Fidel returned, still wet. Taking Hylas’s towel from behind the door he dried himself energetically. ‘There’s no hot water! Cold showers may be refreshing but it’s hard to get dry afterwards. See you in the morning, Bro.’ He snuggled under his duvet and switched off the light. ‘Ha, I feel fourteen again.’
Hylas tried to remain calm. He was feeling eleven again and hating it. At least he wasn’t alone tonight, even if Fidel would be gone again tomorrow. He drifted into a troubled sleep only to be woken by a sudden scream. He sat up bathed in sweat and stared around wildly. The lights came on, blinding him, and something touched his shoulder. He jerked away.
‘‘It’s okay, it’s okay. Calm down. You were dreaming.’ Fidel gently stroked his brother’s shoulder.
Hylas shuddered violently. ‘I heard a scream.’
‘That was you.’
‘I’m sorry. I'm sorry. Really sorry, please don’t be cross but it, it was awful, I can’t stop my head, I...’
Fidel sat on the bed and wrapped his arms around his brother, staring at their reflection in the mirror while absentmindedly stroking Hylas’s neck with his thumb. ‘It’s fine. I understand. Bad thoughts always find a way out. Better through dreams than bad actions.’
‘But when will they stop. It’s over a week since it happened. I have them every night. I'm frightened to go to sleep in case…’
‘It’s okay, I understand.’
‘I'm sorry, Fidel, please don’t be mad at me.’
‘I’m not mad, but I do need my sleep, so shove over; I’ll bunk in with you then I won’t have to get out bed next time you throw a fit.’
Nervously, Hylas rolled over to face the wall while his brother climbed in behind, pulled up the sheet and duvet, draped an arm over his shoulders, softly stroked the skin behind his ear and whispered, ‘Sleep little brother. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.’
For what felt like the first time since Fidel had left, Hylas relaxed and ninety seconds later they were both in the arms of Morpheus, where they remained until daylight and a cool draught streamed through the open window.
They had turned over during the night and Hylas was now pressed against his brother’s back, arm draped over his chest. He scarcely dared breathe. How could he face Fidel after his weakness the previous night? He had no idea how to act. What to say. How to apologise. He knew nothing about Fidel really, except he went to Brisbane and disappeared for four years. He vividly remembered the day he left; abandoning him to an irritable, hate-filled mother. Bereft of hope, love and energy, for a long time he had been angry with him for going away, but finally forgave him, despite not receiving the promised letters. He was mortified at not recognising him last night.
Pretending to be still asleep, Hylas let Fidel lift his arm and slide quietly from the bed, then watched as he stood in front of the bucket on the seat under the window, held his erection down, relieved himself, shook off the drops, then began a series of exercises that began with arm swings and ended with squats and press ups. Slight grunts were the sole sounds.
Hylas was used to seeing other guys in the changing room at school, but Fidel was a revelation. So healthy, hairy, fit and powerful but natural, not like one of those over developed shaven guys in the ridiculous underpants advertisements. Evenly tanned, and despite being thicker in the waist than the bodies Hylas wanked over on Internet sites, he looked sexier. He was close enough to touch and smell. How he longed to touch. But what was Fidel like inside his head? His mother had insisted he was evil. A hardened criminal. A no-good wastrel. His father only shook his head and sighed when he heard Fidel’s name, telling Hylas it'd be best to try and forget he had a brother.
But he couldn’t! He had loved him too much. And he still did, he realised. But did Fidel still love him? He looked neither dangerous nor criminal. He was tough, that was obvious, but last night he’d been so gentle. He touched his neck where Fidel had stroked it, and fought back tears. He wondered why. The soft ache in his chest felt like sadness. Perhaps because it was the first gentle touch by another person he could remember. In books kids were cuddled by parents, kissed, made a fuss of; stroked and calmed when upset. He knew he’d been lucky to have a home, plenty of food, a dry bed, schooling and all the things kids take for granted, but…why hadn't he been kissed and stroked even once? Was he unlovable? At school he wasn’t disliked, but was he liked? He had no idea. He had no close friends. All the other guys had girlfriends but no girl had shown much interest in him. He didn’t want them to…but still… He shook his head to stop the thoughts. He was dying for a pee but didn’t want to get out of bed with a hard-on. He’d look ridiculous.
Fidel was on his twentieth squat, staring blankly at the wall. Hylas thought his heavy dark eyebrows and deep-set expressionless eyes made him look a bit dumb, and that made him like him even more. His nose had been broken at least once. His upper teeth were just visible between slightly parted lips drawn back with the effort, giving him a sort of feral look, enhanced by a square jaw covered in stubble so thick and dark it looked as if it had been painted on.
Fidel looked up and grinned, exposing even more of his large front teeth. Was it a snarl or a smile? Alarmed, Hylas looked into amused eyes and relaxed. Fidel was powerful and potentially dangerous, but not to Hylas. Inside he was…a nice guy. The realisation triggered a surge of relief and admiration. His brother was someone he could like and admire! Perhaps…if he was lucky…Fidel might even like him. Might even stay and… Then he remembered. He was only here for a few hours. Then what? Hylas didn’t want another parent…he couldn’t pretend he was sorry he’d lost the two he had. But he would like someone to share things with and to… to…
He thrust the pathetic thought from his head, returned the smile with interest and blurted, ‘You’ve a fantastic body! I hope I’ll look as good as you one day.’
Fidel grunted a laugh. ‘You’ll look better. I'm only nineteen and already starting to look like a brick shithouse. You’ll be more like Dad used to be in photos, strong, lean and flexible. You saw me just now, couldn’t touch my toes without a warm up.’
‘How’d you get so strong?’
‘The usual way, but we can talk later—we have to, but first things first. I need to freshen up and eat, then we can talk and make decisions. So, up you get!’
‘Don’t look.’
‘You’ve been looking at me for the last ten minutes. It’s okay, I know you’ve got a hard on, you’ve been shoving it against me half the night.’
‘I didn’t know, sorry, and it’s not only that. It’s…’
‘What?’
‘I'm ashamed because they're black.’
‘What are?’
‘My cock and balls. And my bum’s also darker than other kids. I hate it. At school they reckon I must have black shit and smear it around. But the rest of me isn't any darker than you. Why am I different?’
‘That, brother mine, we will never know. Both our mother and our grandmother never knew who their fathers were, and considering how different we both are from Dad, apart from you being skinny, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was no different from her mother.’
‘You mean?’
‘Do either of us bear the slightest resemblance to Dad?’
Hylas was silent for several long seconds. ‘On the day he topped himself they were arguing. Shouting. Worse than usual, and he said something about having paid for her two bastards, but she wasn’t going to get another cent. I didn’t understand it. But now I get it. We’re the two bastards.’
‘Most likely. Does it worry you?’
‘Not really. It would explain why he wasn’t more protective of you, wouldn’t it? I never felt close to him, but I'm sorry he’s dead. He wasn’t a bad man—not like Mum.’
‘But why the heck would he suicide? Why didn’t he just clear out? Meanwhile, I'm going nowhere, so stop being such a girl and go and piss!’
Secretly relieved to be ordered to do what he desperately needed, Hylas did.
Fidel laughed. ‘Yeah, you're a bit darker there than me, but nowhere near black. I read somewhere that over-sexed people have darker cods because of the extra blood flowing to them. Maybe that's your problem. How often do you wank?’
Hylas blushed but decided to tell the truth. ‘Every chance I get.’
‘Yeah, me too. Still do. As for your sexy bits, it’s not the colour that’s interesting, it’s what you do with them.’
‘I don’t do anything except wank.’
‘Come here.’
Nervously, Hylas approached his brother who placed both hands on his shoulders and gazed down as if considering an interesting artefact. ‘Brother mine, you’ve a work of art between your legs.’ He laughed as if delighted. ‘It looks like carved mahogany. I wish it was mine!’
‘Really?’
‘Honestly. You're a fine looking young man. I can’t believe you're only sixteen. You're already as tall as me and looking fitter than I was at your age. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were my age.’
Hylas grinned his pleasure. ‘Thanks.’
‘A pleasure.’ Fidel lifted his own arm and sniffed. ‘Whew I stink but I'm not having another cold shower. What’s to eat?’
‘There's no food in the house. And in a few hours there’ll be no furniture. Mum arranged it all with the auctioneer a week ago. I can’t get over it. She’d been planning to leave ever since Dad died, but told me nothing! We’ll have to buy breakfast.’
‘First a crap, then a swim, then breakfast.’
‘A swim! Brilliant!
While Hylas pulled on a pair of Speedos, Fidel pulled a pale blue scrap of material from his wallet, that he put on, stretching it to cover the important bits.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s what I swim in if there are people around. It’s a thong…surely you’ve seen one before.’
‘Only on porn sites. You…you're not going out like that?’
‘There's no point in wearing anything more if I'm only going to get it wet. You aren't covering much more than me.’
‘My bum, for a start.’
‘Why should we cover the most important muscle we have? The one that allows us to stand upright? Does it embarrass you?’
Hylas thought, then giggled. ‘No, it’s sexy, but I wouldn’t dare. And if we’re going to Main Beach we’ll have to walk a bit.’
‘That’s okay. My legs still work. If you get embarrassed you can put your hand over my crack or pretend you don’t know me.’
‘I’m not embarrassed, it’s just…’
‘You're worried some fuckwit will take offence and bash me up?’
‘More or less.’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried, but they’ve always regretted it.’
‘I can imagine.’ Hylas took a deep breath, laughed in delight and raced out to the car.
‘Hey…a Volt. I’ve always wanted to drive in an electric car. Is it any good?’
‘It’s brilliant but I borrowed it.’
‘He must like you.’
‘We like each other.’
Hylas’s heart flipped and he suddenly didn’t want to know any more.
The Surf Club car park was already full, so they parked a couple of hundred metres along Hastings Street and jogged back.
‘I'm losing my touch. Only one wolf whistle.’
‘But plenty of looks and a couple of cheers.’
‘Race you!’ Fidel jumped the barrier, scrambled down the rocks, raced into the surf, dived under a wave and surfaced ten metres further out. Hylas was close behind. They swam a few hundred metres parallel to the beach, body surfed for twenty minutes, rinsed off salt and sand under the showers in front of the surf club, then, to the delight of a gaggle of tourists, jumped up and down to shake off the drops.
‘That’s the only thing I miss in Brisbane, the surf. But my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. Food! Gimme food!’
Hylas failed to suppress a giggle. ‘Calm down you great baby, everyone’s looking at us. There's a kebab place over there.’
‘How much money have you got?’
‘None…I never thought…have you any in the car?’
‘Luckily for you this remarkably fine bulge those girls are admiring is enhanced slightly by this.’ Making no attempt to conceal his action, Fidel slipped two fingers into his pouch and brought out a fifty-dollar note wrapped in plastic. ‘Let’s see how much it’s going to cost us to partake of breakfast on the most famous tourist strip in the land.’
‘Heaps. What else have you got hidden down there?’
‘Apart from the family jewels you mean?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Only the car card.’
They wandered across, joining early walkers, joggers and Speedo-clad swimmers in front of the outside menu.
‘Nice bum,’ someone shouted from across the road.
Fidel waved and grinned then returned his attention to the selection. ‘What do you want?’
Hylas listed his choice.
‘If I get the same as you we’ll have splurged thirty-eight dollars and eighty-five cents. We can do better than that.’
‘Come on!’ They raced back to the car, drove up to the Junction and parked.
‘There’s no fast food place here.’
‘But there’s a supermarket.’
‘Can we go in like this?’
‘We can only try. Come on.’
Hylas followed a few metres behind to see what other people saw, and began to panic. ‘Fidel, from behind you look totally naked! I can’t even see the string round your waist! You’ll be run in!’
‘Stop worrying. It’s fun. Next time we’ll both wear them. Grab a basket when we get inside and hold it in front of the rude bits.’
‘They aren't rude. They're sexy but…’
Fidel had run ahead and was already inside. Their tour of the aisles was uneventful until the checkout when they were accorded a soft wolf whistle and several appreciative grins.
‘Where to?’
‘The park at the back.’
On the grassy bank of a shallow lake edged by reeds, with birds abusing each other in the eucalypts, lizards scurrying from cover to cover and brush turkeys already queuing for handouts, they unpacked a dozen bread rolls, a bottle of olives, a packet of gruyere cheese, two slices of ham, four tomatoes and a small red papaya.
‘Eighteen dollars and fifty-five cents. We've just saved twenty dollars and thirty cents, and will have a larger and healthier meal into the bargain.’
‘We forgot drinks.’
‘Tap water is clean, and healthier than sugar water.’
‘Is this the way you live?’
‘Yes, and the way you’ll be living from now on.’
‘With you?’
‘If you want to. Hey, it won’t be that bad, there's no need for tears.’
Hylas sniffed. ‘They're tears of relief. I had no idea what to do and didn’t dare ask if I could stay with you.’
Why not?’
‘You seem so…so secure. So successful. I can’t imagine you'd want to be burdened by a school kid. And the few times Mum mentioned you she gave the impression you had turned into an evil monster. I never even knew you had written till after she left. I’d got used to thinking you'd forgotten all about me. I imagined you had changed and become…and didn’t love me any more. But you're not bad. You're the nicest person I know.’
‘You obviously don’t know many people. As for not loving you any more; I have never stopped. It was thinking about you that kept me alive when I thought I was going to die. Of all the horrible things our mother has done, by far the worst is hiding my letters so we both thought we’d abandoned each other. But, it’s no use crying about it, we’re together again and have to get back home before that second-hand dealer arrives. There's something I want to salvage.’
They quenched their thirsts at a nearby tap and jogged to the car.
‘I could do with the sheets, duvets and those sorts of things at my place, so bundle them up and shove them in the car. Have you packed everything you want to keep?’
Hylas indicated two large plastic holdalls. I did it as soon as Mum took off and I learned I’d have to leave.’
‘Good. Stow everything in the car while I take a look around.’
Ten minutes later he returned frowning. ‘Did Dad ever mention an amulet?’
‘I don’t even know what it is. Why?’
‘It’s something that's supposed to give protection against evil. This one’s a small, carved bone attached to a fragment of plaited reed. According to Dad it belonged to his great grandfather. When he got badly burned and I looked after him he promised to leave it to me; but it’s not there. He hid it in a small wooden box glued behind the lip of his wardrobe. He reckoned Mum didn’t know about it, but it’s not there now so she must have found it and taken it. What a bitch.’
‘She is. Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere? Maybe I've better eyes. Come on.’
They turned over everything that could be turned over, searched in improbable as well as probable places, but found nothing.
‘Any idea where she’s gone?’
‘None.’
‘Have you still got the note?’
Hylas took it from his pocket and passed it across.
‘Ugh. That creepy spidery handwriting. She doesn't waste words or endearments. Not even a Dear. Just, Hylas I'm going away. You're old enough to look after yourself. The furniture will be cleared on Friday and the house sold next week. Your brother’s phone number is…’ Fidel looked at Hylas. ‘That’s it? She up and left her sixteen-year-old son to fend for himself? How did you feel?’
‘Relieved for five minutes, then panic arrived and never left till you got into bed with me last night.’
‘And now?’
‘I’m the happiest guy in Noosa. Or would be if she hadn't stolen your amulet.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I want to be gone when the dealers arrive. We can talk in the car. I can’t get away from this place quick enough.’
‘Quickly.’
‘What?’
‘Get is a verb, so it requires an adverb. You can’t get away quickly enough.’
‘You pompous prick! Any more of that and you can stay here