THARGOMINDAH

It’d only been a matter of time before things would come to a head. The old man’ad been toey for months, since Mick had put shit on him after a few too many beers at Xmas, so, for a few seconds I thought a blue was on for sure. The Old Man was going to hit him, but he didn’t, and I was surprised and felt kind of good about it. Not that I could give a shit about my brother, but it was the first time I had seen him stand up for himself, and it had given me some hope. I don’t know why, but the old man had so much power over us I could feel sorry for him, and hate him, both at the same time.

Anyway, Mick had drawn the line and stuck with it. There’d been a bit of shouting and pushing but, for a change, it seemed neither of them would throw the first punch. Dad’s a tough old bugger but Mick had really filled out during the previous couple of years.

Mum stood back in the kitchen doorway twisting her apron around her hands. In the end Mick was getting’ out and taking his share of the place, ‘and never coming back!’

I thought they’d cool down but in the morning Dad took the ute to town and except for Mick packing some gear and giving Mum a kiss-good-bye, that was the last we saw of him. Things were quiet for a few days, Mum was really upset, but there was plenty of work to do, more than ever. After a few days Dad seemed to shake it off and gave me a bit of a lecture on the meaning of life. Nothing I hadn’t heard before, just a lot more intense that’s all, as though he’d been drinking during the day.

It was his ‘basic philosophy’ talk, “no-one owes ya a livin’, work hard and you’ll get somewhere, knuckle under if you know what’s good for ya”. I knew what he was talking about, we had a good amount of land and the prices were right. The old man drove an LTD with air, drank JD, and had a decent holiday at the coast every year, what more could a man ask for? That’s why the ‘ loss ‘ of my brother was a two-sided coin, sure I’d have to work harder but when the old man died I’ve the place myself!

For more than a year we heard nothing from Mick but we knew through friends of is that he was overseas. Somehow a couple of unpaid bills filtered down to us but the old man threw them in the fire with nothing more than a short hiss.

Mum was a little bit low sometimes, especially around Xmas, and it was interesting to watch the standoff between her and Dad.

I had originally entertained the notion that I would fill the gap left by Mick but except for the occasional unexpected hug from Mum and a whole lot more work, that wasn’t really the case. Being a couple of years younger I still didn’t have my license and so Dad had to do all the trips to town, but I became familiar with everything on the place. There weren’t many jobs I couldn’t take care of and during the mustering and the drenching there were hired hands to help out; and I enjoyed being the boss.

After a while I got really used to not having Mick around, even preferred it. He’d been a good brother in some ways but as well as that, he stood over me, much the same way that the old man stood over him. Plenty of times I had thought about sticking a knife right between his ribs.

After about eighteen months Mum was getting so sad her shoulders sagged, and the two of them began to regularly fight. I wasn’t around that much after work, I had my own vehicle by then and a girlfriend that lived twenty K’s closer to town, but when Dad got sick it seemed to bring it all on at once. Sometimes Mum would have a few beers, usually when something special was happening, but one night she got pissed and really stroppy and smashed something they’d owned for a long time. I’d never seen her like that before and I felt a bit scared, embarrassed, and sad for them both. It was like she was letting out everything that’d ever hurt her in her whole life all in one go and the old man was the one who copped the lot.

A few days later I realized what had caused it. Mick was supposed to be in Sri Lanka, according to the cousin of some guy he had been to school with, and there had been a lot of busses getting blown up and people killed. I don’t think Mum realized how big a place Sri Lanka is but you know, first-born and all that. I was glad when things cooled down and returned to normal cause that year was our best for many. Beef prices were high and the barley pulled in 22 tonnes to the hectare. Dad bought a Range Rover that I knew he had always wanted. Mum got new kitchen and they put down a deposit on a place at the coast. The ozzie dollar had dropped about eight cents and fixed up the markets.

The next thing I knew was when I walked in on Mum and Dad having a strained-faced discussion in the kitchen. They’d got a letter from the Australian embassy. Apparently Mick had just about died from hepatitis in an Indian jail and spent six weeks in some rotten hospital before being flown out. The Embassy had his passport until $1800 dollars was paid and he would be staying in St Vincent’s in Brisbane until he had recovered.

I left them with it. There was a plenty to be done and it was all over my head. Mick had pissed off when the old man needed him and blown his share of the farm on god knows what. If he had dropped dead in Katmandu or somewhere it would have been simply grief and a bit of time, but shit, what effect was he going to have being back on the scene, weak and without any money. Mum was quiet but after a few minutes of getting used to the idea Dad was over the moon. It was if he’d thought Mick was dead or something. I think the old bastard was finally going senile I mean when Mick was around all they did was fight anyway; he always gave me impression that he couldn’t really give a stuff about anyone. But what pissed me off most was that I got the impression that Mick was gonna be welcomed back with open arms and all the time I’d spent working my butt off for not much more pay than a blow-in would come to nothing.

The next morning we said no more than was necessary to get the muster organized and I took off with a couple of the boys to the out-station by Billow Creek. The old man could sort out his own decisions; I’d never made much difference anyway. The only suggestions worth making were ones that he already agreed with. The old man had never backed down before, and he’d never let Mum have her away either, but here he was getting ready to open his arms to someone who’d done and become everything he’d always despised. Someone said blood is thicker than water. But so is shit.

Two days later, back at the homestead there was a Sunday afternoon barbeque being set up so I decided to let the boys go ahead, but I just couldn’t stomach it. Cars were parked all over the place and colored lights lit up the trees but all I could see was red. The old bastard had always been ungrateful and dictatorial but this was a joke. For my 18^th I had to beg him to buy me a keg. No. I was really pissed off. How could he do it to me? With Mum it was the kind of thing you would expect, but shit, I’d never so much as talked back to the old bastard and what did I get for it? May as well have done the same thing my self. And then where would he have been?

I went to town to get away and have a few beers. I was playing eight ball and griping to one of my mates when the old man came in lookin’ like it was Xmas. “C’mon, Pete, what do you think you’re doing in here. Michael’s back and everyone’s having a great time. They’re all there except for you.

I looked at the old man and couldn’t believe it. His face was sort of red and his eyes were bright. He could put on that conspiratorial, “We’s mates ain’t we.” Look so easy but it hadn’t been around for a long time.

“What are you talking about?! Who’s been here working like a dog for the last two years, ha? While shithead spent his money clowning around and taking drugs! It’s unfair and it doesn’t make sense. What’s in it for me!?”

“C’mon Pete, give me a break will ya. Michael could have been dead, nearly was dead. You can’t imagine how it has been for your Mum and me to have lost contact with our boy. Can you imagine what it must have been like in that place? Can’t you sympathize with him? Can’t you see my point of view? And if you won’t do it for me then do it for your mother. You should see the smile on her face! C’mon Pete you’re missing a good party. That’s not like you. If your not out there soon I’m gonna come back here and kick your arse.’

He put his chummy smile on his face again to let me know he was only joking but the implied threat was there and it pissed me off to see that nothing had really changed between us. Mick was better off than me despite pissing his inheritance up against the wall.

Back at that ranch things were in full swing and everyone was having a ball at our expense. Empty cans and cartons were strewn all over the ground and the bullock on the spit had been stripped to the bones. It took me a while to find Mick, or Michael as he told me when I said hello and shook hands. He looked quite a bit older but somehow better, the brand new Akubra and shiny boots helped him fit in but his jeans and shirt had seen better days. His smile gave me the impression that he was glad to see me but he could also recognize my hesitation and divided way of thinking, and then he went back to hearing some bullshit version of the way Chook had rolled his Tojo on the Mt. Marmion road.

Gradually the night wound down. All these pissed half-wits talking the same old red-necked crap. Not one of them could finish a sentence without saying fuck three times.

No wonder Mick had wanted to get away from the place, and despite my reservations and feeling like I’d been shafted he was definitely the most interesting person around. He was telling a couple of boys about some beach in Thailand, it sounded like heaven on earth, lucky bastard, but what I was most interested in was the time he’d spent in jail. It must have been weird for sure. I would have been scared shitless. “Oh forget about the stinkin’ jail. There were too many good times to think about that. Anyway, most of the time in jail I was so sick I didn’t know where I was. Lucky I was white or they would have left me to die there on the floor.

Thailand was the best Pete, wish you’d been there with me. Man, those chicks are unreal. You wouldn’t know what hit you if one of those little sex machines climbed onto you. Talk about suck and fuck! Skin like silk, the voices of angels and faces like from a dream, and laugh! By Christ we had a good time! Should have been there bro’, anyway, next time, we’ll show ‘em they have to look out for the Jones boys from Tillbaroo.”

We both laughed for the first time together.

“You know, I was pissed off when I heard that you were coming back. I was getting used to not having you around.” I told him. “But you’re not such an arsehole as you were before,” we laughed again, “and it’s good to see you. Things can get mighty boring round here sometimes.”

“I hear you going out with Sandy McCabe, she must a big girl now. Spunky or what.’

‘She’s OK, not much choice around here but we have a good time. Go down to Thargomindah to her brother’s place sometimes. He’s got a ski boat and we fart around on the lake. It’s OK, but I guess it sounds pretty tame compared with the things you’ve been up to.

“You’ll have to get out there and take a look for yourself, matey. You’ll end up like the old man if you stay around here too long.” He pulled a small mirror out from beneath a book on the desk. It had two thin lines of white powder running across it.

“Here, try some of this.”