Page 30

Road Trip – Sydney to Albury...and a bit further

AXEL

Once we are safely beyond the outlying suburbs of western Sydney, and in the relative quiet of the Southern Highlands, I pull over and Justin jumps into the front passenger seat.

In Melinda’s car, with Sydney behind us and just the long road ahead, the likelihood of being noticed by the police is low, unless I get myself pulled over for something foolish, like speeding. Justin slept for the first part of the journey, and now we’re on the open road he seems relaxed and playful. It’s like we’re on a road trip for fun, rather than one to escape hell.

Kilometers and kilometers of bushland and rolling green hills covered in livestock, rocks or thistles, pass behind us. Not all of the farmers are keeping their paddocks in good shape! I'm not a farmer but I do know what a thistle is and I'm sure it can't be good to have your paddocks covered in weeds!

The road curves towards a large installation of wind generating turbines located on a hill. Dominating the landscape, they grow in size and loom over us menacingly as we approach. Their immense size makes us feel insignificant as the road winds between them.

The highway goes on. Hours and hours of asphalt pass beneath our tyres and still there’s further to go.

By early afternoon, we reach Albury, and I decide it’s as far as I want to drive in one day. It will be our last night alone for some time, and I want us to share some time together before Justin goes into serious hiding. I hesitate before taking the exit, as a thought occurs to me. Well, two thoughts really. We're still in New South Wales where conversion therapy is legal. And it's also where the police are looking for Justin. Albury and Wodonga are twin cities, one on each side of the border. If we just drive that extra five minutes, we can get into Victoria.

I make the decision. Wodonga, it will be.

Internally, I relax a little as we cross the border. Some of the tension eases from my shoulders. Maybe it's just psychological, but I feel safer now we've left my home state.

We pull off the by-pass, and I drive around until I locate a small family-run motel on the outskirts of town that has a ‘Vacancy’ sign. Pulling into the driveway, I park undercover next to a screen door where battered adhesive lettering spells ‘Reception’, with some of the letters starting to peel off.

Leaving Justin in the car, I open the screen door. A small bell jangles.

Reception consists of a small office, nothing more than a high counter with a desk and a chair. Beyond, a door opens from the house behind and a tinny cacophony of noise blasts through the doorway from a TV in the background.

A middle-aged man dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a battered pair of jeans comes through. His face is somewhat weary and lined, but not unfriendly.

“Good afternoon,” I say. “I need a room for the night. I saw your sign outside...?”

“How many people?”

“Two,” I reply.

“How many beds?” he asks, and I see what I didn’t notice before. There’s a security camera in the carport, and the guy is looking at the screen right now. The camera must be facing straight at the car, probably to get a good picture of the license plates, but the camera sees straight through the windscreen and there’s a very clear picture of Justin now showing on a screen on the reception desk.

Wodonga is a large enough town, and close to Melbourne, but it’s still pretty rural. I don’t know if two gay guys would have a problem here, and I don’t want to attract any attention at all.

“Um…” I only hesitate a moment before answering, but it must be enough to give me away.

“We’re a family establishment, a respectable establishment, and we’re proud of our family values,” he tells me, and I’m sure he’s about one second away from telling me to get the hell off his property.

But he doesn’t.

“Everyone is welcome,” he continues. “And we don’t stick our noses in other people’s business. We’ve got rooms with one large bed, or two. Or interconnecting rooms. We’re only half full at the moment because it’s low season. You’re welcome to take whichever setup suits your situation.”

I blink. “Um, thanks. Well, a room with one large bed then.”

“No problem,” the man replies, and hands me a form to fill out. It’s the guest registration.

I fill in the car registration plate… that’s not a problem, there’s no reason Melinda’s car registration would ping anywhere if someone did run a check on it.

But the next few lines are a problem. Name and address, and then credit card for payment. Fuck, he’s probably going to want to sight ID.

“Ah. I’ll pay cash up front.”

He looks at me and nods understandingly. Then he pulls the registration form towards himself, and writes JOHN SMITH in the name, and NFI for the address.

“That work for you?” he enquires, cocking his eyebrow at me.

“Yeah. Thanks,” I reply sheepishly.

“Like I said, everyone’s welcome here.”

He takes my money and hands me a key.

“Room 17. Down the driveway and turn first left, second room from the end. It’s quiet this time of year. There’s no-one else down there. You boys make as much noise as you like.”

“Oh. Er, thanks.”

As I turn to go, he adds quietly, “My uncle came out a few years ago. And a cousin of mine – a decent bloke - is in jail. Everyone’s entitled to have someplace they feel safe. Reception opens at 7am, but if you leave before that, there’s a box on the wall outside to put the key.”

Then he turns and goes back through the doorway into the other part of the house.

The door bangs shut.

******

Justin looks up hopefully as I get in the car.

“Here.” I toss the room key into his lap and start the car.

The room is easy to locate and set towards the end of the motel, which is a series of separate buildings. It’s probably a bit early for check-in, but even so, the motel does seem very quiet.

Our room is basic, clean and simple, and it’s all we need. There's a bedroom with an ensuite, and a separate living room that opens out the back to a shared porch. We toss our bags in the bedroom and wander out the back door to check out our surroundings.

Our room opens out onto a paddock, where a family of ducks is floating around on a dam. A couple of horses graze nearby, and as far as the eye can see, it’s green grass and paddocks.

Justin heaves a sigh of relief as we look out over the peaceful scene. His nostrils flare as he breathes in the fresh scent of country air, visibly relaxing in front of my eyes.

“We could almost be the only ones here,” he sighs, resting his head on my shoulder.

“I think we pretty much are. The guy at reception said we could make as much noise as we like.”

Justin gives me a mischievous grin – hell, that’s a dirty grin. In this moment I'm seeing the old Justin again.

“Is that right?” is all he says, but I like where his mind is. Truth is, I like even better that he seems to be getting back to being the guy I knew, not the one constantly plagued by all the negative self-talk and doubt. I know it’s early days yet, and it’s too soon to think he’s recovering, and there will be setbacks but if he can joke about sex, it’s a hopeful sign.

“That’s what he said,” I play it cool, like I haven’t caught on to his innuendo.

“Maybe we should test that out,” Justin suggests. “You know, just to be sure.”

Mentally I urge him to make the first move, but he still can’t. It’s disappointing, but I can’t expect too much too soon. It’s devastating to witness the impact on his confidence. He didn't used to be afraid to take the lead.

I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.