I’m Sorry To Disturb You On Your Days Off, He Says

Sam wakes me sometime after 8am and says I have to get up. His face gazing down at me is a nice way to wake up. 

I’m sorry to disturb you on your day off, he says. Then he laughs... so I don’t believe him. 

It crosses my mind to comment on the sweet smelling stuff he has on, but I think better of it. I like boys to smell natural, I have to say. 

Note to self, work on Sam’s after shave habit.

He misses his train; it crosses the crossing, just up the road, as we step out onto the street. It’s 8.30. 

I say good bye.

He looks at me with wide eyes.

I can drive you, I offer almost as a defence mechanism.

Sydney Road is a remarkably easy drive. I wonder if it is because of school holidays. I drive him to my turn off on Royal Parade – Cemetery Road West – and he catches a tram to work.

I'm thinking breakfast.

I head to the supermarket to buy milk, on Tim’s recommendation. I don’t know how, but Jackson and I get to talking about the price of milk at Coles, last Sunday over lunch. 

Funny the things you talk about when you aren’t stoned off ya bonce.

You can get 3 litres of no-name brand milk for $3 something, said Jackson. 

I pay $5 at the milk bar for 2 litres of Rev. I never think about such things. I guess that is what they count on.

Jackson’s right, 3 litres for $3.50. I’m surprised. I remind myself that the supermarket and the milk bar are not that much different in distance, from my front door, certainly no difference especially if you consider the large price difference. And now that they have those self service checkouts, the supermarket seems much more appealing that it did once when the thought about standing in the queues drove me to the milk bar. I tell myself not to be so slack.

I’m home by 9am with milk and a newspaper and a blueberry bagel, which turns out not to be so good.