The Mind Man

Chapter three

Adam woke up suddenly and sat bolt upright. He was stiff and erect. The room was bathed in sunshine. He gasped for air. He could hear his mother calling his name from the kitchen to wake him. He lay back down and stared up at the ceiling, basking in the sensuous memory of the dream. The images of the picnic down at the river remained fresh in his mind and he tried hard to recall every minute detail. He remembered the naked bodies, the laughter and the gentle strokes of wet hands on his skin. His mind was providing him with the illusion that the events had actually happened. He felt wonderful. His groin stirred to the images in his head. He was eager to get to school to embrace them both. Due to the intimacy at the river he was now in a position to proclaim a privileged relationship with each of them. A newfound bond had been forged. He stretched. Then as he awakened further, he recalled the other images of the night and the warm glowing feeling of sensual certainty drained from him and his hardness slowly subsided. He recalled Caren and Miss Pawlowski calling him Roxley and then the images of the cyclist at the railroad crossing. He became confused. Now his body ached and his muscles were tight and sore as though he had been beaten with a stick. His tongue was thick and tacky and his mouth was dry. Gradually, with great effort, he swung his legs out to the side and sat on the edge of his bed. He tried to focus on the hands on the face of the clock sitting atop the bedside table. When his eyes were properly cleared he saw he had overslept but it felt like he had not had any sleep at all. He placed his head into cupped hands.

"Adam. Are you up yet? You'll be late."

He lifted his head. "Yes Mum," he shouted at the closed bedroom door.

He rose, staggering slightly. The dreams had been so intense. Wrapping a towel round his waist he set off for the shower, and when dressed wandered down the hall to the kitchen to have breakfast.

***

It was late in the evening when a convoy of road trains pulled out from the roadhouse, hauling their long lines of trailers out of town. With each exhaustive strain on the gearboxes and engines, black diesel exhaust was thrust up into the night sky. Rows of powerful driving lights mounted on sturdy bull-bars were switched on, illuminating vast stretches of asphalt in front of each vehicle to guide them through the night. Groans and scuffling of hooves could be heard over the din. The cargo of steers herded from remote cattle properties out west were destined for abattoirs in the larger towns closer to the coast. The whites of terrified eyes peered out between the timber shutters on the long trailers. Periodically, excrement splashed onto the street. For a moment, the main road in front of the roadhouse was full of noise, dust and commotion, but when the last tail light was enveloped by darkness the street became wide and empty again. Only the clouds of diesel exhaust suspended in the still air served as a reminder to the past. A golden glow of the sunset in the far western sky was all that remained of the scorching day.

Adam stood opposite the wide street from the roadhouse having watched the commotion die away. He studied a young teenage boy surrounded by a group of girls, engaged in happy chatter after appearing from along the street. They worked their way towards the light thrown out onto the sidewalk from the roadhouse's brightly lit interior. Huddling together for a moment they pushed through the narrow swing door and busily chose a table around which to sit.

As this establishment was the town's only roadhouse it had every right to state the claim. It did this by way of a large neon sign perched on the roof which pronounced 'ARDLETHAN ROADHOUSE' loudly to the world. Apart from refreshing truck drivers that passed through, the roadhouse was also the place where anyone too young to drink at the town's licensed premises could hang out. It was a place to go to mix with friends, to chat and drink milk-shakes, and Albert the cook, did the best 'hamburger-with-the-lot' in town. It was also where Caren worked part time, as her father owned the joint.