Page 70 of Lost In Kakadu

“You said we had all night.”

“Shhh.” He held up his index finger.

Her frown darkened her eyes even more in the fire light and he didn’t like that. Her eyes were always so full of expression.

Abigail folded her hands between her knees. “Sorry.”

He looked back into the dancing flames. “So … I took my things and left. I never looked back. At first, I spent several nights in the park. I slept on a park bench and ate food I found in rubbish bins; I didn’t go hungry. Eventually I made my way into the city where most people just turned away when they saw me.”

He shoved the stick into the fire and a frenzy of sparks jumped up. “Christmas Eve was the worst night, not that Christmas was ever anything special at home, but Mum always made me a triple chocolate sundae as my special treat.” He smiled as he remembered. “Anyway, one night I hopped on a train and just rode it all night long until I fell asleep. They kicked me off when it stopped at Central Station. While I was standing at the platform, I noticed a train was leaving for Sydney in an hour. I begged for enough money in that hour for the train ticket and I remember thinking it was my ticket to freedom.” He paused and shifted in his seat. “I changed my name and within a few months I was living at Kings Cross. I stole food and clothes and pinched a sleeping bag fromsome poor backpacker’s car. My prized possession.” Mackenzie sighed as he remembered dashing from the beat up Combie van with the sleeping bag under his elbow.

Abigail reached for his hand and when their fingers intertwined the reassurance that he wasn’t alone welled up inside him. It felt good. She squeezed his palm, motioning for him to continue.

“I was twelve when I met Grace and Pete, brother and sister. They were living on the streets like me. We just clicked. It was like the three of us had been together forever. We slept in a tunnel in a playground and begged and stole just to get by. Grace was my first girlfriend.”

Abigail twisted toward him; her head cocked in a question.

Ignoring her, he leaned forward and tossed another log into the fire. “At fourteen, Pete and I both got jobs pushing trolleys at the local supermarket and it wasn’t long before the three of us could afford to rent a room. Things were good for a while. It was fun.” Mackenzie smiled remembering the shopping trolley races and other crazy things they got up to. “You’ve heard of a soup kitchen, right?”

Abigail nodded.

“Well, there were many days when that was our only food. I reckon that’s where my love of cooking came from.”

The night was still, not even a whisper of breeze, as if the jungle was listening to his story. The smoke rose in vertical spirals from the fire and disappeared into the night sky.

“We started doing drugs.” He glanced over at her to see her reaction, but she didn’t move. “At first we smoked marijuana, but then we got into heavier stuff.” He took a slow breath. “Pete died of an overdose, right in my arms.”

“Oh Mack, that’s terrible.” Abigail leaned forward to look at him.

He looked into her green eyes and the intensity he saw in them made him happy he’d shared his history. “The irony is his death saved me. I cleaned myself up, went cold turkey on the drugs and never touched them again. A lady named Susan who volunteered at the soup kitchen offered me a job in a coffee shop. We started dating and once again everything was great for a while. But one day Susan left me a note.” He shrugged. “Said she was getting married, and I never saw her again.”

“You had no idea?”

“No. But that’s when I met Rodney. He was going through a rough divorce, and I was heartbroken over Susan. Each morning we’d mourn over a cup of coffee together.” Mackenzie sighed again.

“I don’t understand. You … dated women? Did you just not know you were gay? I thought …”

“I was always attracted to both. Guys and girls. It’s just easier, more socially acceptable, I guess, to go out with women. But then I met Rodney. There was something about him. We fell in love.” He looked over at Abigail and she was smiling as if she’d just heard the ending to a wonderful fairytale. And in some ways Mackenzie’s life had been like a fairytale, full of tragedy and triumph. Most of it would be unbelievable if he hadn’t lived through it himself.

“I moved in with Rodney when I was nineteen. He owned a beautiful penthouse overlooking Manly marina. I was finally in a loving home.”

“I can’t imagine a childhood like that. So tragic. It’s a wonder you survived.”

“I guess … a part of me didn’t. But I’ve learned to make peace with my past. It didn’t do me any good to be angry about it. And to some degree it’s shaped me, it’s part of who I am.”

They were quiet for a very long time and gradually the creatures in the bush began to sing again. Abigail squeezed his hand. “So, what’s your real name?”

“It was Malcolm Turner. My mum used to watch those midday TV shows, you know, General Hospital, Bold and the Beautiful, shows like that. She always talked about a man called Mackenzie. She called him a gentleman. So, I became Mackenzie. The last name I made up, I thought Steel sounded strong.”

“It’s perfect.” She tilted her head in a way that he could see the depths of her dark green eyes. They were the eyes of a goddess, intensely beautiful.

“There it is.” He spread his hands like he was presenting a seafood platter. “That’s how Malcolm became Mackenzie. I told you it would ruin your birthday.”

She reached over and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders and as he hugged her to his chest, he inhaled the sweet scent of her clean hair.

“This is the best birthday I’ve ever had. Thank you.”

He huffed. “You’re a strange woman, Abigail.”

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