It has been a slow week. My time has mostly been spent stressing about exams and final projects. That is not to say I am not enjoying my time here in Australia. I only mean to say school took precedence this week over leisure. Because of this, there is not much to report home about.
Instead what I have decided to do is post the original draft of the short story I am working on for my creative writing class. I realize there are flaws. It was my first time writing a story that relied so heavily on dialogue, so at times the writing feels a bit clumsy. I am currently working on my third draft. Since the original draft I have fine tuned the dialogue, made better use of symbolism, got rid of unnecessary parts, and removed two characters.
I will post the final draft in two weeks. For now, I hope you enjoy the original draft of the story despite its flaws. Feel free to leave comments.
The Indian Pacific
“Hello.”
“Your mother passed away last night at. As you know she has been in the hospital for the last month. It seems after years of fighting, her body finally lost to the cancer. The funeral will be held in two days. You have a long trip ahead of you, so you should probably start making travel arrangements.”
That was the first phone conversation I had with my father in a month. Hardly a second after I put down the phone it started ringing again.
“Cate Blanchett”
“What?”
“She would be perfect for what’s-her-name, our stars girlfriend.”
“Alana?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“I suppose. But, shouldn’t we find a star first. Who’s to say anyone will even want to make my script into a movie?”
“Don’t sound so pessimistic. You’re new to this whole thing and you’ve already had some success with one of your scripts. Plus you’re working with one of the best producers in Sydney mate.
“I’m hardly new to all this, I’ve been trying to find my niche in this business for five years now. Plus my one script that was turned into a film was the sloppiest, most clichéd piece of garbage I’ve written. No one will even take the time to look at my deeper work. I’m not even sure why you’re wasting your time with it.”
“I’ll tell you why. I have faith in the movie viewing public. There are plenty of people looking for a story that can challenge them. Plus, when you pitched me a story about a down and out artist moving to the city and trying to find his place in the crowd, only to get mixed up in its seedy drug culture I was blow away.”
“I’m not sure it’s well placed, but I appreciate your faith in me. I’ll talk to you later Heath.”
“Alright mate. Take it easy.”
Once again I put the phone down. I did not have time to sit and process the news. I had to make travel plans. Luckily, I was taking the month off from work to write, so I would not be missing any days at the office. O.K., so I was fired. That doesn’t change the fact I plan to take a month to work on another script before I go looking for another job. Anyways I shuffled over to my computer and started looking for the best deals.
The last time I traveled between Sydney and my hometown in Perth I was headed in the opposite direction. In fact the ten year anniversary of that trip will be next month. I was twenty when I hopped in my car with two suitcases packed with only the bare essentials. I had only started to make concrete plans less than a month before, but the idea of leaving my hometown had been with me for many years.
I grew up a single child. I went through the normal life routine. I had some good friends. My parents loved me and often spoiled me. By no means did I live a bad or less than comfortable childhood. None the less, I never felt content.
I fell in love with movies when I was young boy. My favorite memories are of going to the theatre with a few friends on the weekend to see a movie and going out for ice cream afterwards. I know it sounds so clichéd, really cheesy stuff, but hey it’s the truth.
I worked relentlessly at trying to find my place in school. At different times I was involved in school produced plays, the literary magazine, the yearbook association, I even tried out for a sport or two at my fathers urging. I wasn’t completely unsuccessful, but it became increasingly apparent to me that I did not belong there. The one thing I knew I could always fall back on was movies. Rather it was comedy, some deep narrative on human nature, or simplistic escapist fantasy; I could always drift away from real life in a small town for about ninety minutes and become absorbed in the colors and sounds of another place and another time.
My parents knew this and when I expressed my plans to leave home they were both very supportive, in fact it seemed they were aware I would leave home before the idea had even sprouted in my head. My mother was particularly supportive. That is how she had always been. Being a free spirit herself when she was younger, she understood what it was like to get that itch. That very itch which I had, that all encompassing feeling of unease, that feeling that there must be more out there.
We got along well. Sometimes, when I was younger, she would take my friends and I to see movies we were not old enough to buy tickets for and see on our own. Afterwards she would eat ice cream with us and discuss the movie. She was the one who introduced me to all the great American directors. I fell in love with Hitchcock, Kubrick, and Capra. She sparked my interest in all different genres. She was the one who pushed me to study film in a university.
My father and I got along fine enough. I mean I loved him and he loved me, but we never really connected. He was a blue collar worker, always had been. He loved action movies, but that was about it. He didn’t particularly care about the directors or the stories about how the movies were made. He saw one of the three plays I was in and only read some of the pieces I had written for the literary magazine. He was really excited when I tried out for the cricket team, but I got cut half way through try outs. Still, he was a great father. He just came from a different background and I understood that.
He grew up in the Northern Territory with two older brothers on a cattle ranch. He spent his days wrangling cows, riding around in his jeep, and hunting with his brothers and his father. It was there that he met my mother. When they got married they moved into a tiny apartment. It was arranged that if they moved to Perth, closer to my mother’s family they would receive some financial support. They knew it was the best decision, as they were planning to start a family. My father was able to find work shearing sheep, which he enjoyed. However, he was never really comfortable. For him home was back on the cattle ranch.
After a bit of searching I felt I had found the best mode of transportation, the Indian Pacific, a train that went from Sydney to Perth. It was a three day trip that would arrive at a station near my home town early on the morning of my mother’s funeral. It departed later today and by some miracle there was still an empty cabin. I had to pay a little extra, but I was not to upset about the price, because it was a single. The last thing I wanted to do was share a small cabin with a stranger for three days that I would be in a less than sociable mood.
I packed a small suitcase full of the necessities, being careful not to wrinkle my suit too greatly. After packing I had an hour before I had to leave for the train station. I did not dare sit, for fear of breaking down and being late because of uncontrolled emotions. I scurried around the house making sure things were in order. Finally, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out the door.
The trip to Central station did not take long and I was on the train in no time at all. Suitcase in hand, I made my way to the cabin assigned to me. I threw the suitcase on the table and sat down in the arm chair beside it. For a long while that’s all I did. As my body sat still my mind raced furiously. This was the first moment of calm since the phone call from my father and the sadness which had been repressed welled up inside of me.
I was suddenly shaken out of my wallowing by a strange grumbling sound. It took a moment to realize it was coming from my own stomach. Come to think of it I had not eaten since breakfast, around the time of the phone call. I looked at my watch and realized I had been sitting in that arm chair for hours. I waited for the redness in my eyes to subside, cleaned up a bit, and made my way to the restaurant car.
The food was fine enough. In fact, under any other circumstance I would have been quite impressed with the quality. But, tonight nothing had much taste. It occurred to me I needed something stronger. I made up my mind to go to the lounge once I had finished my meal. At the very least, it would be better than spending the entire night in that small cabin.
When I reached the lounge I headed straight for the bar, ordered a whiskey sour, and found a lone seat. I finished the first drink rather quickly, and the second, and the third. I decided to nurse my fourth drink and stared out the window. I notice the bartender was a bit stingy with the alcohol when pouring the fourth drink, he probably was hoping I would not make a scene. In his defense, so was I. It felt as though all those emotions and tears could well up at any moment.
Eventually, a mother and her daughter chose to sit in a place very close to me. The last thing I needed was a loud little kid running around the place while I’m trying to drown my sorrows. To my pleasure the daughter was well behaved and rotated between talking with her mother and reading a book. Under any other circumstance, I suppose, I would have noticed that the mother was quite attractive and seemed to be about my age. But, as I was in no shape to be hitting on attractive women, I went back to my cabin and prayed that I would be able to sleep.
I was able to sleep and I awoke refreshed in the morning. First thing I cleaned up, put fresh clothes on, and headed back to the lounge. There I sunk into an armchair and stared out the window. Sitting, staring, and thinking are three things I have gotten very good at over the years, and it is often when combining these three actions that I have my greatest realizations and most insightful ideas. I remained like this until lunch time, when I headed for the restaurant car.
I ordered a ham sandwich on Turkish bread and a bowl of pumpkin soup. Once again nothing had much taste. Outside the window the red earth was scorched and barren. There had not been a good rain in this part of Southern Australia for a while and the plants were brown and wilted. Two people were seated at the booth directly connected to mine. I recognized them to be the mother and the daughter from the night before. I was just finishing my food as they ordered. The waitress came and removed my dishes, but I continued to sit and stare out the window.
I’m waiting to see some gang in crazy cars appear and try to hijack the train.”
“Huhh.”
“The landscape… it’s like something out of Mad Max.”
“Ha-ha your sure right about that”
“My name is Lauren, by the way. What’s yours?”
“Brock.”
“So Brock, what are you doing here on the Indian Pacific?”
“Well, I’m headed to Perth for my mother’s funeral.”
“God, how awful. You have my sympathies.”
“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. How about yourself?”
“I got a bit of a sad story myself. My husband recently passed away. We had been living in his parents’ house after they moved into a retirement facility. Well, his family and I had always had a rocky relationship. So, I decided my daughter and I should travel around Australia a while looking for a place to live. Funny, I’m actually considering moving to Perth.”
“I’m sorry for you loss. It must be hard on ahhhh…”
“Oh, Claire. Yeah she’s only four. But, she knows daddy is in a better place. Right honey?”
“Yup.”
“Well, it was nice talking to you Lauren, but I’m going to go back to my cabin and work on my speech for the funeral. I hope everything works out for the best.”
“Same to you Brock.”
When I was back in my cabin I did not feel like writing a single word. I really just used the speech as an excuse. She seemed like a great person and I did not feel at the moment I would make the best first impression if conversation kept up. The rest of the second day went much like the first. I spent more time in the arm chair, went to the restaurant car for dinner and than to the lounge. After I had spent a good hour in the lounge and far too much money on a few drinks I noticed Lauren walk in.
Feeling a little more upbeat than before, I “accidentally” bumped into her at the bar and bought her a drink. It seemed that Claire was asleep and Lauren was looking to partake in the same relief from grieving I was. From that point on a great conversation started.
I have never had such a heartfelt conversation with a complete stranger. We talked about love, loss, our families, traveling across the continent, and much more. It was more than the alcohol or the fact we were both grieving. Her childhood situation seemed very similar to mine. However, she was able to eloquently express the emotions and thoughts that I struggled to present in my scripts. Three hours had gone by before either of us looked at our watches.
“I better get going. If Claire wakes up she’ll be wondering where I am.”
“Where in Perth are you staying?”
“I don’t know. I was going to move around for a while and stay in motels.”
“Would you like to… or would you mind… would you join me”
“At the funeral?”
“Umm… yeah at the funeral. There’s a nice motel very close, a big grocery store, and Claire might like the playground.”
“Yes. I would like that.”
“I’m glad. Well, good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Shortly after Lauren left the lounge I headed back to my cabin. I slept well that night and was only awoken by my phone ringing. I fumbled around in my pocket trying top locate it. It was my father. Two phone calls in one week. This will make it the most we have talked in a long time.
“You almost here?”
“The train will arrive at the station in two hours.”
“Do you need a ride from the station?”
“That would be great. I hope that it’s O.K. a friend of mine and her daughter will be joining.”
“No worries. So how long are you staying before you head back home?”
“Sydney? That hardly feels like home anymore. Actually, I was thinking about sticking around for a while and looking around for a place in Perth, maybe the old home town.”
“You know you’re always welcome back home. “
“Thanks dad. I’ll see you soon.”
Before I could even get out of bed the phone rang again. This time it was Heath.
“I think I found someone who is interested. I’ll give them a call today to set up a meeting. When will you be back?”
“Actually, I’m thinking of staying here for a while. I got a new idea for a story.”
“What’s the idea?”
“It’s the story of a young man who is lost until he takes a train ride across the continent. It follows him closely as he develops emotionally on the train. In the end he realizes he was never really lost. He just didn’t know what he was really looking for.”
“Great. I liked your last idea, but I love this one. Take all the time you need. But when you’re finished promise to give me a call.”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
“Send your family my regards.”
I took my time and ordered coffee to be brought by room service. I did not have time to sit in the armchair this morning. I wanted to look nice for when I met Lauren and Claire outside. I just finished cleaning up and packing as the train arrived at the station. When I got off the train they were already waiting for me.
“It took you long enough.”
“I know. I know.”
“No worries. You ready for this?”
“Yeah, I’m ready. It’s time to go home.”
