All good things

Chapter XIII

Last chapter re-cap:

 “Ready?” Optunia asks from the seat opposite me. I look at the security guard sitting adjacent from me as though he has the answer to how I feel but after a minuet I look back at Optunia and nod firmly.

“Ready.”

                                                                        ***

It is a 3 hour drive from Phoenix International Airport to The Ranch, by the time we arrive it’s just after midday and the sun is sitting high in the sky.

The drive was uncomfortable, Optunia made me sit in the trailer of her friends rusty old Ute. As it turns out, she is a very crazy driver- there are now purple bruises where wooden crates smashed into my leg, and the dust billowing behind us made my eyes water like crazy as we’d speed down the dry, dirt road, across the yellow barren land.  

A little farm cottage sits at the end of a straight, long, driveway, in the middle of nowhere. Next to it is a barn, bigger than the cottage itself and a tall, ancient looking, windmill. There is hardly any grass and jack all trees, only the odd Gum or Cactus.

“Ok Louis,” Optunia says, sliding out of the Ute and dusting herself down. “Welcome home.”

Smiling politely I jump off the trailer, hurling the suitcases with me and taking in the surroundings. It wouldn’t be a bad looking cottage if it got a paint job; it’s small and has shutters on every window, very homely but I like it.

“Just dump those inside and make yourself at home,” Optunia calls, already half way to the barn. “You’re in the second bedroom upstairs on the right!”

Unsure and nervous I make my way through the double swinger front door, fining myself in a modestly small kitchen. I squeeze my way past the island that runs the length of the room (still dragging the luggage behind me) and through an archway that leads to the living room.

 There’s not much space in here either, only enough for a pair of mismatched recliners, a bookcase, a fireplace, a midget TV on it cabinet and a three-seater couch.

“Errgh,” I moan and dump the million bags onto the couch.

“Don’t trample all that muck inside boy!” a grumpy voice growls from behind me. I spin around so fast my shin smacks the edge of the bookshelf and I wince in pain.

“Toughen up pretty boy,” the voice growls again. I look up to see an old man slouching in one of the recliner chairs.

“I- er- I’m sorry?” I stutter, not sure what to say or do now. This man is so intimidating, it’s creeping me out.

He shrugs and takes a swig from the dirty, brown, beer bottle in his hand, the foamy liquid sloshes down the front of his filthy, yellow stained, singlet. Filthy, a good word to sum him up, he’s slumped low in his chair with his feet sprawled out in front of him. “Be off with ya,” he beats me away with a gnarly hand.

Not wanting to upset the cripple man any further I bundle up my belongings and scuttle out of the only other door out of the room, besides the one I came in from. It leads me to a little sun-room, the back wall and far part of the roof is completely made from glass panels, there is a cute buttercup yellow furniture set arranged to face the only patch of green grass for miles. Out the back is a blooming garden and a single apple tree with a tire swing, I can’t help feeling extremely comfortable with these surroundings.

“Ahh I see you’ve found your way out here alright,” Optunia says carrying a basket of folded clothes through a narrow wood door and giving me a fright at her unexpected appearance. “I hope Bill didn’t give you a roughening up,” she sighs apologetically. “He’s a bit senile at times.”