He Wasn’t Two Any More

Three people in a king bed is, it turns out, one more than a king bed is made for.

It was late when the train brought us back to Bairnsdale, too late to look for anywhere new, so Eagle Point it was, in the same spot as before. Working out where Torrin would sleep could wait for daylight. For that first night he climbed in beside Anth, and the three of us lay there in the dark of the bus. It sounded fine in theory. But the little boy who once fitted between us was a man now, all elbows and knees, and every time one of us turned over, the other two knew about it. Lying awake in the small hours, it was hard to mind very much. In a few weeks he would be on the other side of the world.

Morning brought the Aldi car park and Sal’s Wednesday calls, the cab of the bus turned office again. Anth and Torrin left her to it and went to the post office we had missed by five minutes the evening before. This time the door was open. Sal’s new brake rotor was waiting, ordered after the old one broke a few metres from Liz and Jeff’s driveway in Canberra, and with it a new electric yoghurt maker to replace our old one. Anth sent a parcel the other way: his old tripod, posted off, with a new one won on eBay already on its way to us.

Once Sal’s last call was done, we filled up and pointed the bus west. In a box somewhere near Torrin’s bags sat a brake rotor that had been waiting on us since a driveway in Canberra.Read more