A lady sitting a couple of seats along gave me a sympathetic look. She thought I was reacting to the movie. She reached across and put her hand over mine, but I got up and left.
It was dark outside. I couldn’t stop worrying about Vic. There was a bike rack around the side of the cinema entrance. I found a bike that was secured with a cable lock. I pulled my hood over my head and crouched down. The lock was old, and I worked it open in less than a minute.
I rode off fast. I went south along the coast, and then turned left and went through an industrial area where there weren’t many cars. At one point a truck flashed its lights behind me because I was in the middle of the lane, and I cut back to the kerb. The driver yelled at me, but all I could think about was Vic.
I made it to the overpass. I dumped the bike and ran halfway across. First I checked the rails, and then I looked down. I couldn’t see anything. My legs were burning and my heart was beating fast. I sat down with my back against the rails.
I was relieved Vic wasn’t here, but part of me had wanted to see him again. I held the watch up close to my face and squinted. I decided to wait until midnight, and if Vic hadn’t turned up by then, I would climb over to where I had been last night and fall.
Somebody was shaking my shoulder. I panicked and pushed back, but the person held onto me.
‘Hey, hey, ease up. Easy, it’s alright.’
I opened my eyes. It was Vic. At first I thought I was dreaming, but it was really him.
‘You’re not going to do it, are you?’ I asked.
‘Eh? No, no. That’s not why I’m here.’
I looked at my watch. It was half past twelve. I was upset with myself.
‘Listen,’ Vic said, ‘you want to go for a drive?’
I did, but suddenly I felt wary about getting into his car.
‘I don’t know.’
Vic didn’t mind. He sat next to me. His knees cracked when he lowered himself. We sat without talking for a really long time. I listened to him breathing. He had a really strong chemical smell, like burnt oil.
A ute came over the overpass and stopped halfway. The driver wound his window down.
‘You two alright?’
‘All good, thanks mate.’
The driver gave Vic a suspicious look before he drove away.
‘How come you came back then?’ I asked.
I had an idea why, I just wanted to hear him say it.
‘Couldn’t get to sleep,’ Vic said. ‘I was sitting in the car earlier and you came to mind. I thought about what my wife would have said about you. She would have given me an earful.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I didn’t do enough to help. I didn’t get you home safe. A man wants to pass with a peaceful mind.’
‘My home isn’t safe.’
Vic nodded slowly.
‘Is your wife dead?’ I asked.
Vic nodded again.
‘What was her name?’
‘Edie. Edith.’
‘You must have loved her a lot.’
‘Very much.’
‘How did she die?’
Vic didn’t answer, so we sat in silence again. I liked that he didn’t ask me any questions.
‘Vic?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’d like to go for that drive.’
Vic’s Kingswood was parked in the same place as the night before. All the windows were partly open, but the doors were locked this time.
When I got in the car, it had that same strong oil smell.
Vic started the engine.
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘I don’t know. Anywhere.’
Vic pulled out and drove. There were no cars around.
‘Why does it smell so bad in here?’ I asked.
Vic didn’t answer that question either.
I wound the window right down. Maybe he had spilled something. I looked around. On the back seat I saw a few metres of garden hose. One end had a big wad of electrical tape wrapped around it. I looked at Vic. I understood what he meant earlier when he said he was sitting in his car trying to get to sleep.
Vic didn’t have much of an expression, but I knew he was sad and tired. My throat got tight.
‘I’m sorry, Vic.’
Vic kept looking straight ahead.
‘Me too mate.’
I brought my knees up to my chest and leaned against the door. I closed my eyes and felt the wind on my face.
Last Meal
I woke up in a strange place.
The first thing I noticed was how stale the room smelled. I sat up. I was in a big bed under a heavy homemade quilt. I looked around. One wall was taken up with a big wooden wardrobe. In the corner was a vanity table. I could see myself in the mirror. I was still wearing my clothes, but my shoes were on the floor next to the bed.
I got up and sat at the vanity table. There was perfume, make-up, a foundation brush, a bottle of Oil of Olay, a hairbrush and a jewellery box. Everything had dust on it. There was a wedding photo in a silver frame. I recognised Vic. He had big bushy sideburns and a nice smile. He wore a dark green suit. I guessed that it was Edie next to him. She was really pretty. She had rosy cheeks and thick curly hair, and she was a lot shorter than Vic.
I put on my shoes and slowly opened the door. It was quiet. I crept down the carpeted hallway. I had an awful thought that Vic had left me there all alone and I would find his body.
‘Vic? Vic?’
I didn’t hear anything back. There was no answer.
I checked the bathroom but he wasn’t there. I looked inside the next room along, but there was only a small single bed and a pile of folded clothes.
I found my way to a little kitchen. It was empty. I called out again.
I found Vic standing outside in his backyard. He was wearing a pair of black shorts with dried paint all over them and a faded yellow polo shirt that was ripped at the hem.
‘Good morning,’ I said.
He turned around.
‘Afternoon.’
‘Really?’
He nodded.
I squinted in the sun. The garden was really nice. There were rosebushes and bottlebrush and grevilleas and potted chrysanthemums. The lawn was spongy and trimmed. I saw that Vic was standing over a neat square of dirt in the grass. He caught me looking at it.
‘Quiet here without the cranky little bastard. Yapped at everything.’
‘What was its name?’
‘Misty.’
Vic rolled his eyes and smiled. I walked over to the grave, then I realised.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘It was your wife’s dog.’
Vic nodded.
I was thirsty so Vic took me inside for some water. The tap made a groaning sound. The glass he handed me was tinted yellow and looked like it cost thirty dollars at a vintage store. I drank the whole thing.
‘You don’t have an Android charger, do you?’
Vic just gave me a confused look and shook his head.
I glanced around the kitchen. It didn’t look like he used it very often.
‘Do you have any bread or something?’
Vic opened some cupboards. All his food was tinned.
‘Out of bread. I can do you some beans. Or … corned beef. Steak and onion stew. Spaghetti.’
‘What do you usually eat?’
Vic shrugged and held up the can of beans.