Getting to Know Carlo Better

I was jogging back down Gertrude Street. I nearly hadn't gone jogging at all, as I was so comfy at home before I left. 

Nyr, is how I felt. 

So, I had to, eventually, push myself out the door with the promise of a joint as soon as I got back. (Why I just didn’t just smoke the joint first, I don’t know)

So, it was later than I had intended. I was nearly home and there was Carlo heading towards me. American football guernsey, blue and silver and American loud. Trackie pants. Dark blue.

We smiled at each other as we approached. I was going to jog right by, Santana's guitar was soaring on my I-pod in my ears, and I was on the beat, I was a fully integrated machine.

Isn't that him? Yep. It is him, I thought. Parachute out, pull the strings from my ears. 

“Hey. Hi.”

My heart is pounding in my head. I rested my hands on my knees. I look up. He has stopped. He is smiling. I can't talk. What the hell am I doing? Speechless in front of this kid.

“Hi,” he says.

“How are you?”

“Yeah. Good. Heading home.” He looks down. He shuffles his feet. Looks up. “Bored. You?”

Big breaths. “Yeah. Good. Not bored.” A gasp for breath A car horn sounds. We both look around, as if we'd been caught. Well, I can’t speak for him, of course. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” 

“Me either.” Breath, just breath. He's smiling. Look at you. How gorgeous. It's just admiration. Nothing else. Broad shoulders. How does he fill out those track suit pants like that> Leaning on my knees I'm looking right at it... them.

“You going…?

I straighten, stand up and my eyes go straight from his track pants to his eyes. He's looking right at me. He realises, just like that. He blushes and moves his hand with a jerk, twitches his fingers. I blush too... what am I doing?

“I'm going home because... I've, got nothing else to do.” He smiles.

“Me either.” I smile too, I can't help smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“So where do you live?”

“Just around the corner.”

There is silence. We both smile, nervously. My breathing is returning to normal.

“I gotta go,” I say. “Nice to see you.” I look down again at his tracky pants. It's an automatic response. Nice legs. This would be so easy. No.

“Okay.”

“I got to go,” I say. I can feel my heart beating in my chest. The butterflies in my stomach are saying, hang on, wait a minute. I start to walk towards home. My head is spinning. I can't help but smile. I think my line is school boys from the area. I've got a bit of a chub, though, thinking about him, despite the line. I'm not dead inside.

I only glance back, as I turn the corner into my street. He's walking behind me. I get to my front door. I walk inside and close the door. I lean my back against the inside of my front door. I breathe out. I breathe in. It is dark in my front hall, except for the slash of street light, from window above door.

I'm suddenly cold, my legs are shaking. I should change. I step into the hallway.

There is a knock on the door.

I turn back.

The door creaks as I open it. He’s standing there.

“You followed me?” I ask.

“Clearly.”

Was this good? I couldn’t decide.

“This is where you live?” he states, more than asks.”

“Clearly.”

“Not bad.”

“If you like this sort of thing?” I say. I couldn’t help myself.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

We held each other’s gaze.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asks.

What happens when we close the door, I think? “Sure, come in.” I stand to the side of the hallway and usher him in with a hand gesture. I look out into the street, just to amuse myself, to see if any of the neighbours are watching.

He walks ahead of me.

“Keep walking until you get to the end…”

“Like walking the plank,” he says.

“All the way to the end, my friend,” I say. I immediately regret it.

“Nice house,” he says.

“Well, thank you.”

I pull on track pants and a hoodie I left in the lounge room.

“Do you jog often?” he asks.

“I try to,” I say.

“It’s what I see you doing most.”

“You still playing soccer?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “When I have someone to play with. Not always the case.”

“It must be better.”

“Who do you, um, play with?”

“What?”

“Do you have a partner?”

I wonder if he asked that question that way deliberately. “Yes.” I was going to say Matt, but I say, “His name is Matt,” instead.

“Matt?”

“Yes.”

“Does he live here too?”

“No,” I say. “He lives in Brunswick.”

“Brunswick?”

“Yes.”

“Why doesn’t he live here?”

“We like our own space.”

“Oh.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you live with your folks?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes… both.”

“They are still married?”

“Yes.”

“To each other?”

“Yes.”

“Well, congratulations on that.”

“Congratulations?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say. “And what do you want to do?”

“When I grow up?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, ah, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have to know right about now?”

“Um, yes. Um, no. Um, Lawyer,” he says feebly. “Doctor.” Sounding just as feeble

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed with my answer.”

“No, it’s your life. Doctor. Lawyer. Both good vocations. What draws you to each of them?”

He shrugged. “Being told they were both good things to do.”

“And they are good things to do, for doctors and lawyers,” I say. “But you?”

“I don’t know, but you are right, I do have to make up my mind pretty soon.”

“You should do something you love. It makes it more bearable.”

“Bearable?”

“Going to work every day, you’ve got to do something you love,” I say. "To do it every day."

“Well, um…”

“What do you love?”

“I don’t know.”

“Or, who do you love?”

“What makes you think I love…”

“Oh, come on, a good looking boy like you, the girls… guys must be throwing themselves at you.”

“Nobody is throwing themselves at me.”

“Oh come on, with your looks, I’m sure you are being humble.” I am beginning to regret this line of conversation, but weirdly I don’t seem to be able to stop myself.

“No, nobody,” says Carlo. He looks at his watch. “I guess I should be going.”

“I haven’t even offered you a drink, we just got chatting. How rude.”

“That’s okay, I should get going anyway.”

“Okay,” I say. I wondered if I scared him off, not that there was anything from which to be scared off.

He heads up the hallway, and leaves the house.

I go and have a shower, my track pants and hoodie are sticking to me from the sweat of running.