The speaker died and the still-buzzing began to leave, skidding away in clouds of bulldust, hunting for new thrills. Their headlights caught the spiralling particles in gold. We who were left huddled in little groups along the lip of the pit. Our pseudointellectualism was wearing thin. The faint sound of sobbing floated across to where me and Bodhi sat.
Should we head off? he asked me, head lolling.
Where’s Bubs?
With Matt and all them.
Has he got a car?
Nah, let’s walk.
I grimaced.
Not even that far dog, he said. It’s a perfect night.
Alright.
Bodhi jerked his head towards the shadows, away from the sodiumorange road.
It’s quicker this way, he said. I shrugged. We dusted off our arses, blinking as it rose and stung our eyes.
We followed a fire trail. On one side of the path, the earth sloped off sharply, shrubby trees tangled in vines hiding the valley. Sunbleached chip packets and bright plastic shards clung to their spiky branches like fruit. On the other side, a field of drying grasses, taller than us, stretched to the horizon, unseen mammals crunching inside. Bodhi was quiet. I found a star picket and swung it as we walked, listening to it slit the heavy air and crash against the grass. Startled moths beat their way towards the sky.
Wish we had a lighter, I said, thrilled by childish visions of our silhouettes against the blaze.
Don’t be stupid, said Bodhi.
Out here on the edge of town, the land was dead. It was hollowed out in sinking pits, carved up with sagging wire. The work of some developer before the money dried up again and the FIFOs left. It was art, really, almost, and a good place to torch a car. A few scraggly trees had escaped the bulldozers and the diggers, but it was mostly weedy grass, dotted with the odd fridge or rotten chair. It was inevitable that one day, the suburbs would bulge out and invade these spaces, but until then, the land was still.
I dragged my feet through the dirt. My stomach was aching and there was a steady pounding at the base of my skull. I could smell myself sweating out the cone I’d had earlier, cloying and slippery. It was a new moon and our vision buzzed with the screams of the crickets. Bodhi staggered just in front of me, his fuzzy form rendered in black and slate, my guide through the static. His voice was raspy.
That was shit, he said.
Yeah.
I feel sticky, he continued, more to himself, I think. I could picture every contour of his face. He was staring up at the sky, the tendons in his neck straining, and I followed his gaze. The stars were blurry and cheap.
I dunno how much longer I’ll hang around here, he said.
Why? I asked. I kept my tone level.
Who’s still here?
What—all the fellas back the—
He sighed.
Yeah, but how many of them did you actually wanna see? Think about it. Kim and Hannah and George are overseas, there was that whole group that left for uni, Harry—well who knows—Matt told me tonight that he’s enlisting—
Really? I said.
I know but. What a creep.
We shook our heads.
I thought you liked it here though, I said.
Yeah, I do. But I need to get out man. It’s like- don’t laugh alright- there’s too much history here.
You’ve been watching too much TV.
I’m not being ironic enough for you? he said, waggling his fingers.
Everyone hates this shithole, mate.
Nah, you don’t get it.
Oh, what, you don’t wanna settle down yet? Yeah, real deep.
He rolled his eyes but I saw him swallow. I hoped he couldn’t see how much my neck was burning.
* * *
Somehow, we found the chain-link fence. Bodhi dragged away the itchy vines and kicked in one of the corners and squeezed through and I followed, the tips of the wire scraping my skin. We stood in an empty lot at the end of a cul-de-sac. A for-sale sign stood in one corner, the eyes of the grinning agent stabbed out. The streetlights were the LED type that were clean and bright and gave everything too many shadows.
We walked for a long time then, probably in circles, following winding roads with no footpaths, past boxy houses with frosted glass doors and grey roofs. Our voices echoed through the streets, though we spoke quietly. A four-wheel-drive roared by, tyres tearing at the road as it caught us in its highbeams. The driver stared at us, though their face was buried in shadow.
The streets became straighter and the fences got taller. Then we were home. I started up the driveway to Bodhi’s place when he called me back.
Hang on, I wanna have a dart first.
He waggled a cigarette at me. I slouched at him and groaned, but I joined him on the kerb anyway. He lit it, took a puff, and passed it to me. I inhaled, imagining the smoke coiling through my sinuses.
You know the woman who lives there? Bodhi asked, pointing at one of the houses.
The old girl? I said.
Yeah.
I’d seen her a few times before, watering her immaculate lawn and her copperleaf bushes. She was short with sun-damaged skin and she wore loose floral dresses that frayed at the hem. I’d met her grandchildren years ago, but we’d never spoken.
What about her? I said.
Weirdest shit. A couple months ago, I was up real late, and I saw her walking naked down the street—
You’re a perv.
Nah, shut up and listen, he said, waving his hand in my face, his eyebrows tight.
She was full naked, right? And she walks up and down the road and sits on the nature strip for a while, and then goes back inside.
He looked at me expectantly. I shrugged and yawned. He clicked his tongue and turned away from me.
And from then on, she does this every coupla nights, only for like half an hour each time. After a while I kinda forgot about it. I dunno. I thought she might’ve been a bit cracked or something. But last week she did it in the middle of the day, just fully went out naked in front of everyone.
It’s a pretty busy street, I said.
Yeah oath. And everyone who drove past was staring at her and I think someone went out to check if she was okay and then some dog must’ve called the cops and they had a chat to her and took her back inside the house. Anyway, the next day she was back there watering the concrete again, seeming completely unphased. But I haven’t seen her out at night since. Not for at least two months. And I’ve been checkin— no shut the fuck up—she’s fully stopped.
He rocked back a little and blew air into his cheeks.
Hm. Maybe she’s losing it, I said.
Yeah maybe. But she might’ve been doing this for years.
And no one noticed?
He snorted and shook his head.
Maybe they did, he said.
* * *
Bodhi’s room was the old granny flat. We blinked in the sudden light and we couldn’t meet each other’s eyes. Clothes were scattered across the floor though it wasn’t dirty. The fan creaked above us and made his hair flutter.
I can’t really be fucked blowing up the mattress. Can we just share? he asked through sagging eyes.
I was too tired to reply. I turned off the light and we took off our shirts and climbed into the double bed. Bodhi was turned away from me. We’d left the outside light on and it shone through the slanted louvres, and his back glowed gold.
Where do you think you’ll go? I asked, words slurred and quiet against the pillow.
He didn’t respond. Then he rolled onto his back and turned his head towards me.
I dunno man, he said. He paused. You could come with.
His words smeared between us. The hair on his back was downy and swirled over his shoulders and his stubble was rough and it prickled up with each breath and there was a tiny drop of dried blood on his cheek where he’d knicked it with the razor and a pimple next to it, the skin around taut and shiny. I knew him, but not this close.
Yeah, I said. I struggled to collect my thoughts through the fog. My eyelids dropped.
Yeah, I continued, more forcefully. Nah, that sounds alright.
I opened my eyes lazily and was startled by the intensity of his gaze. He searched my face. I could suddenly feel my tongue in my mouth and the tightness in my jaw and the sweat between my thighs.
His fingertips were calloused and they scraped over my ribs with a dry rasp that I felt in my lungs as his arm wrapped around my back. His weight pushed against my breaths. I opened my own hand and rested it between his neck and shoulder. I felt the life rushing through him, just under his skin, calling to me. He was almost burning. His breath came out shaky and sweet, a tinge of acid and beer and adrenaline on his lips.
It’s only gay if your dad knows, he said, with a smile.
Our foreheads were touching, not pressed together, but gently moving against each other. He twisted a little under my palm, then very slowly brought his lips up to mine.
