jml297

By the time the first rays of dawn were trickling across the room, Mick knew what he was going to do. Donna was sleeping as he eased open the wardrobe and pulled out the suitcase he’d brought with him when he moved in three years ago. Within minutes, he’d packed enough clothing to last a week or so, plus some extras for Benny. Benny had arrived with nothing, but they were close enough in size.

It was harder to get Benny up and going. When Mick gave his shoulder a shake, Benny had bolted upright and would have yelled if Mick hadn’t covered his mouth with a hand. Somehow, he got Benny out of the house and into his ute without waking Donna. He got Benny to steer as he pushed the ute down the driveway, clambering in as it gathered momentum, Benny laughing at their quiet escape.

‘Where are we going?’ Benny shoved his fringe out of his eyes, one hand steering the ute.

‘We’ll head to the reserve.’

Benny looked over at Mick and blinked once before turning back to the road. ‘Haven’t been there since we were kids.’

‘Me neither,’ Mick grinned. ‘But we can pick up supplies on the way and just lie low for a few days.’

Benny nodded, then rubbed a hand against the stubble on his chin. ‘What about Donna? Is she okay with you being away?’

Mick exhaled, feeling a slight easing of the night’s tension in his body. ‘It’ll be fine, Benny. She doesn’t know about the reserve. It’s better this way.’

Mick closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Donna’s reaction when she woke up to find them both gone. Relieved to have Benny out of the house, then probably irritated that he hadn’t told her of his plans. He wondered how long it would take her to realise that he’d packed some of his stuff. But right now, that was a future problem. It was her ultimatum that had started him on this path. He loved her, but Benny was family. Whatever scrape he’d got himself into, Mick couldn’t turn his back on him.

Benny nudged him with an elbow. ‘Can we stop somewhere for brekkie? I’m starving.’

Mick opened his eyes and looked over at Benny, taking in the rumbled hair, bloodshot eyes and bruising along his right cheek. Benny’s face split in a grin, and Mick grinned right back at him. ‘Sure, Benny. Sounds like a plan.’

This was written to a prompt in my writing group.

Photo: Holden car sign at Portland, NSW