Hando’s Out

Tilly Adams drove home from her night school class determined to have a word with Hando. She’d tried before but couldn’t seem to get up enough courage to tell him to leave. She was tired of him using her; it was beginning to affect her work and everything she did. When he first started openly staying with her she had been frightened of him and yet attracted to him. The sex was still exciting but she had decided she honestly did not like him or his attitude.

The last straw was when he came home with plastic bins full of Nazi things. He kept them in his closet but she didn’t want it in her house. She would tell him he had to find another place to stay. She would do it tonight.

“Hando, please don’t do that,” she said coming into her kitchen and finding him drinking out of the milk bottle.

“Why, you don’t drink milk so what do you care?”

“I do care, it’s not sanitary, I might want some for my tea.” Tilly dumped her backpack in a kitchen chair and brushed past him to get a soft drink from the fridge.

“My lips aren’t sanitary?” he smirked and put the bottle back in the fridge.

“I want to…talk to you Hando.”

“So talk,” he said taking a chair at the table and staring at her.

Tilly swallowed some of her soda, “It’s, ah, not working here for me Hando, you’re um going to have to make other arrangements for a place to stay.”

“You’re trying to throw me out? I don’t think so Tilly, I’ll leave when I’m ready.”

“When do you think you might be ready? I can’t…this is causing problems for me I want you to go.”

“Not today, not tomorrow.” He got up and walked over to her tracing a finger across her chin and down across her breasts, “what kinds of problems are you having?” he said huskily touching her body.

“Don’t…” she fell against him, “this kind,” she said as his mouth took hers.

“But you want it don’t you, you want me to do things to you, you crave it,” he kissed her again probing is tongue deep into her mouth.

The next morning Hando packed his car with his belongings and left. He’d slept in it before he’d do it again. He could have stayed, he reasoned but he was ready to move on. She’d find out when she got home that he was gone.

He toyed with the idea of going to Ursula’s place, he could sleep there anytime but there was something about her that he didn’t like, she wanted to buy him. Sure he’d taken the memorabilia because that was something he wanted; it helped make up for what he’d lost in Melbourne. He’d taken other things too, things she might eventually miss or maybe not, she had so much jewelry what was a ring or two. He’d got a tidy sum for them at the pawn shop.

He was almost out of Coffs when he slowed and pulled over in front of the old garage. Something about it reminded him of his digs in Melbourne. He got out of his car and walked over pushing the door open. A dog greeted him sniffing and circling but not barking.

“Hey boy, nice dog,” Hando said immediately alert.

“Whoszat?”

“Who wants to know?” Hando replied.

“Me,” a man moved from the back of the semi darkened garage.

Hando looked him over, graying beard, long stringy hair, medium build and dirty; Hando could smell him as he got closer.

“Whatcha want?” he asked

“Nothing I was just looking at this place.”

“You ain’t from the mission?”

“No, I ain’t from nowhere,” Hando replied catching a whiff of alcohol.

“This is my place… I own it and I can do as I damn well please.”

“Right it’s your call.” Hando said petting the dog who had accepted him.

“What the hell are you dressed up for?” the man coming closer and narrowing his eyes.

“What’s today…Tuesday, I’m dressed up for Tuesday…that’s my call.”

“Heh, heh why’d ya stop in here?”

“It reminded me of a place I had in Melbourne.” Hando said quietly.

“Yeah, Melbourne eh, I been drunk in Melbourne too. Where ya headed to?”

“Nowhere, I got nowhere to go just riding around.”

“You stay around here?”

“Wherever my car’s parked.”

“Livin’ in a car, oh man that’s hard - I done that too before I got this place. My daddy left it to me.”

“Lucky you,” Hando said looking around at the mess.

“Well if ah you ain’t got a place, there’s the upstairs, I can’t go up there because of my bad back. It usta be nice I don’t know what’s up there now. I stay down here…in the back.”

“I don’t have much money to be payin’ rent,” Hando said.

“Don’t need much; a tener a week’ll do me. Name’s Boz Randall.”

“Hando.”

“Hando what?”

“Hando nothing, that’s it.”

“All right, go have a look see what you think.”

Hando saw the metal stairs over on the side of the building and walked up the dog went with him to inspect the upstairs room. It was just a big open space with a bed at one end and a makeshift kitchen area at the other. Hando chuckled to himself; it looked very familiar. An old metal table pushed up against one wall with a couple of chairs and a sofa bed. It needed a good cleaning but it would do.

“I’ll take it,” he said when he came back downstairs.

Boz had moved over to the door in the light, Hando was surprised to find the man was not much older than he was. Alcohol abuse, he thought.

“That will be ten bucks,” he said holding out his hand, “no women and wild parties unless I’m invited,” he said and grinned.

Hando paid him the money and looked down at the dog, “what’s your friend’s name?”

“Dog, simple that way,” Boz said giving the dog a rub.