Delta40
03-29-2011, 02:02 AM
Charlie dreamt he was wading through a thick swamp. 'Geez I hate this dream!', he muttered out loud and then sunk once more in subconscious mud. Perhaps the dream had something to do with the affair he just broke off. She had actually offered to leave her husband. 'You and me can elope baby. Just the two of us.' The mud oozed down his body with each lurch forward, till finally, he made it to the bank, gasping for breath. He woke and lit a cigarette.
At age 55 Charlie was starting to feel bogged down. One by one, his school mates had all settled. Wife, adult kids, grandchildren. Not him though. For some reason, Charlie had never been blindsighted by domesticity. In his early years he was too busy living to bother with sorting through the tangled mess of relationships. It was enough to be in one, he reasoned, let alone make it work. No, Charlie was a free man. The kind of man who had not sunk like a weatherbeaten boat. He still swam against the tide. Charlie yawned and stretched.
He stubbed out the smoke and decided to accept Pete's invitation to a family bbq. Charlie never showed up with a girl at his side. He was the guy that arrived with a six pack of beer and told crude jokes so loudly that the crowd was sure to separate. The women hustled the children into the pool, then they retreated to the patio to prepare salads, leaving Charlie to laugh with his mates. Charlie liked to pal up with them but only when he wanted to yarn over old times. This nostagic urge usually appeared when another teary eyed affair had been put to sleep but Charlie would never have known this about himself.
A small gathering of four families gathered at Pete's house. The aging Patriarchs stood round the bbq. At this age, the younger men were caught in the early throes of parenthood and supervised the pool activity. They snuck in an odd beer when not under the watchful eye of their wives.
‘You ever gonna anchor?’ Charlie took a swig of his beer and let the golden fluid flow down his throat before answering. ‘You don’t get it mate. You're looking at a finely tuned, high powered jetski.’ Pete and the others sniggered and prodded each other then automatically looked over at the women working on the patio. For a few moments the only sounds to be heard was searing meat on the bbq plate and the splashing laughter of children. Pete grunted almost jealously and flipped the sizzling snaggers. ‘Oi, you older kids stop doing bombies round the little ones!’ The four men governed silently over two generations. Each drank their beer until one by one their attention was drawn back to the bbq. ‘Some days I envy you.’ There was a general agreement as each man recalled their own nastiest homecoming after a hellish day at work. A nagging wife, a teary wife, a silent wife. Groping, over exuberant children. Ear splitting activity. Old age had its rewards. ‘But in the end, I like the security of family.’
Charlie laughed. What rationalisations his mates made. He recalled the midnight parties on the beach where Pete would dance like an outdated funky chicken. Even vomiting in front of bikini-clad girls hadn’t dampened his spirits. Pete used to possess alot of bravado which now seemed as weak as the light beer Charlie was forced to drink if he wanted to attend ‘family bbq's'. Pete would stagger along the jetty swearing that he could ‘nail the whole lot of them’ if he wanted, before chucking up over the side to feed the fish. Then Christine appeared. Pristine Christine they called her. At 19, Charlie felt this was the closest he had ever come to being in love. She had a mass of wild blonde hair that evoked a gnawing desire in him. She confided many things to him including her fancy for Pete. Pete was too busy acting the fool, hoping to get a grope from any willing girl. For once in his life, Charlie actually shut up and stopped behaving recklessly like his mates. His need was Christine. Pete called him a pussy and continued to throw back the good times like salted peanuts. Charlie's fists curled instinctively at the memory. Amazingly, Puking Pete secured Pristine Christine for himself. Charlie doubted Pete realised that he had until he sobered up long enough to notice he was married. After that, they went their separate ways. Pete cleaned up his act and Charlie became the real party animal. Charlie shook his head. Funny how life worked out. He murmurred out loud, ‘You never stood a chance buddy.’
Smells of chlorine and cooking emanated upwards. So did the volume. The men talked louder. The meat sizzled so it wouldn’t be forgotten. The onions softened and turned to a crispy brown. The four men stood round the bbq, like retiring lions, leaving everything else to the women to manage, except of course, if a grandchild approached.
‘Poppy, when will you take me out on the boat?’ Pete stooped down to the little voice. ‘Hey shark bait!’ He lifted him up so the small child felt part of the sacred circle. ‘Your Poppy is going out tomorrow morning. As a matter of fact, I was gonna speak to your Dad and ask him if you’d both like to do a spot of fishing with an old bloke like me.’
Charlie didn’t pay attention to paternal interactions much. He shifted his attention to the patio and watched Pete and Christine’s daughter Janey toss the salad. So much like her mother, he thought. Pristine, like smooth alabaster. He wondered how she remained so pale under the harsh Australian sun. In Vietnam he found out women didn’t wear face masks because of Avian bird flu but to keep their skin pale and flawless. Apparently to look tanned implied you were a peasant worker and nobody wanted to seem ‘poor’. He honestly didn’t know if it was true. Janey twirled the little boy round as he told her excitedly what Poppy just said. She beckoned her husband to take the child back into the pool. Janey shook her long, blonde hair loose then tied it into a messy bun. Charlie felt a familiar stirring. He stepped back in time, leapt across the muddy swamp in his dream and saw himself at 19, losing himself in Pristine Christine's arms. Fortunately, even at the age of 55, he was an early riser. He smiled to himself knowing Pete and his flock would be drifting on the calm sea while Janey drifted in and out of erotica, her brow beaded with salty sweat as she urged Charlie to lose them both in sweeping tides of ecstasy. Charlie snapped back from his private reverie, shifted his tackle and asked ‘who’s having another beer?’
At age 55 Charlie was starting to feel bogged down. One by one, his school mates had all settled. Wife, adult kids, grandchildren. Not him though. For some reason, Charlie had never been blindsighted by domesticity. In his early years he was too busy living to bother with sorting through the tangled mess of relationships. It was enough to be in one, he reasoned, let alone make it work. No, Charlie was a free man. The kind of man who had not sunk like a weatherbeaten boat. He still swam against the tide. Charlie yawned and stretched.
He stubbed out the smoke and decided to accept Pete's invitation to a family bbq. Charlie never showed up with a girl at his side. He was the guy that arrived with a six pack of beer and told crude jokes so loudly that the crowd was sure to separate. The women hustled the children into the pool, then they retreated to the patio to prepare salads, leaving Charlie to laugh with his mates. Charlie liked to pal up with them but only when he wanted to yarn over old times. This nostagic urge usually appeared when another teary eyed affair had been put to sleep but Charlie would never have known this about himself.
A small gathering of four families gathered at Pete's house. The aging Patriarchs stood round the bbq. At this age, the younger men were caught in the early throes of parenthood and supervised the pool activity. They snuck in an odd beer when not under the watchful eye of their wives.
‘You ever gonna anchor?’ Charlie took a swig of his beer and let the golden fluid flow down his throat before answering. ‘You don’t get it mate. You're looking at a finely tuned, high powered jetski.’ Pete and the others sniggered and prodded each other then automatically looked over at the women working on the patio. For a few moments the only sounds to be heard was searing meat on the bbq plate and the splashing laughter of children. Pete grunted almost jealously and flipped the sizzling snaggers. ‘Oi, you older kids stop doing bombies round the little ones!’ The four men governed silently over two generations. Each drank their beer until one by one their attention was drawn back to the bbq. ‘Some days I envy you.’ There was a general agreement as each man recalled their own nastiest homecoming after a hellish day at work. A nagging wife, a teary wife, a silent wife. Groping, over exuberant children. Ear splitting activity. Old age had its rewards. ‘But in the end, I like the security of family.’
Charlie laughed. What rationalisations his mates made. He recalled the midnight parties on the beach where Pete would dance like an outdated funky chicken. Even vomiting in front of bikini-clad girls hadn’t dampened his spirits. Pete used to possess alot of bravado which now seemed as weak as the light beer Charlie was forced to drink if he wanted to attend ‘family bbq's'. Pete would stagger along the jetty swearing that he could ‘nail the whole lot of them’ if he wanted, before chucking up over the side to feed the fish. Then Christine appeared. Pristine Christine they called her. At 19, Charlie felt this was the closest he had ever come to being in love. She had a mass of wild blonde hair that evoked a gnawing desire in him. She confided many things to him including her fancy for Pete. Pete was too busy acting the fool, hoping to get a grope from any willing girl. For once in his life, Charlie actually shut up and stopped behaving recklessly like his mates. His need was Christine. Pete called him a pussy and continued to throw back the good times like salted peanuts. Charlie's fists curled instinctively at the memory. Amazingly, Puking Pete secured Pristine Christine for himself. Charlie doubted Pete realised that he had until he sobered up long enough to notice he was married. After that, they went their separate ways. Pete cleaned up his act and Charlie became the real party animal. Charlie shook his head. Funny how life worked out. He murmurred out loud, ‘You never stood a chance buddy.’
Smells of chlorine and cooking emanated upwards. So did the volume. The men talked louder. The meat sizzled so it wouldn’t be forgotten. The onions softened and turned to a crispy brown. The four men stood round the bbq, like retiring lions, leaving everything else to the women to manage, except of course, if a grandchild approached.
‘Poppy, when will you take me out on the boat?’ Pete stooped down to the little voice. ‘Hey shark bait!’ He lifted him up so the small child felt part of the sacred circle. ‘Your Poppy is going out tomorrow morning. As a matter of fact, I was gonna speak to your Dad and ask him if you’d both like to do a spot of fishing with an old bloke like me.’
Charlie didn’t pay attention to paternal interactions much. He shifted his attention to the patio and watched Pete and Christine’s daughter Janey toss the salad. So much like her mother, he thought. Pristine, like smooth alabaster. He wondered how she remained so pale under the harsh Australian sun. In Vietnam he found out women didn’t wear face masks because of Avian bird flu but to keep their skin pale and flawless. Apparently to look tanned implied you were a peasant worker and nobody wanted to seem ‘poor’. He honestly didn’t know if it was true. Janey twirled the little boy round as he told her excitedly what Poppy just said. She beckoned her husband to take the child back into the pool. Janey shook her long, blonde hair loose then tied it into a messy bun. Charlie felt a familiar stirring. He stepped back in time, leapt across the muddy swamp in his dream and saw himself at 19, losing himself in Pristine Christine's arms. Fortunately, even at the age of 55, he was an early riser. He smiled to himself knowing Pete and his flock would be drifting on the calm sea while Janey drifted in and out of erotica, her brow beaded with salty sweat as she urged Charlie to lose them both in sweeping tides of ecstasy. Charlie snapped back from his private reverie, shifted his tackle and asked ‘who’s having another beer?’