Page 75 of Unexpected Boyfriends

“Thanks for doing this. I owe you big-time. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“I’ll think of something,” she laughs, as we exchange keys. “Here.” She passes me a bag. “Food for the journey.”

Then she surprises me by going over to Justin who has just unfolded himself from the back seat of the car. She hugs him.

“Good luck,” she tells him. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I do know my cousin cares about you. That’s enough for me.”

Justin blinks back some tears and hugs her back.

Meanwhile I tuck the letters from the passenger seat into my backpack and grab the remainder of our things.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” I tell them tersely. “I want to get as far out of Sydney as we can before anyone notices I’ve gone.”

Justin hurries into the rear passenger seat of our getaway vehicle, but as I open the driver's door, Melinda puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't forget I want to sit down and properly meet this guy of yours when this is over," she says, with a twinkle in her eyes.

I nod as I seat myself and pull the door closed.The garage door begins to open and a moment later we've pulled out and are on our way.

Chapter 30

Road Trip – Sydney to Albury...and a bit further

AXEL

Once we are safely beyond the outlying suburbs of western Sydney, and in the relative quiet of the Southern Highlands, I pull over and Justin jumps into the front passenger seat.

In Melinda’s car, with Sydney behind us and just the long road ahead, the likelihood of being noticed by the police is low, unless I get myself pulled over for something foolish, like speeding. Justin slept for the first part of the journey, and now we’re on the open road he seems relaxed and playful. It’s like we’re on a road trip for fun, rather than one to escape hell.

Kilometers and kilometers of bushland and rolling green hills covered in livestock, rocks or thistles, pass behind us. Not all of the farmers are keeping their paddocks in good shape! I'm not a farmer but I do know what a thistle is and I'm sure it can't be good to have your paddocks covered in weeds!

The road curves towards a large installation of wind generating turbines located on a hill. Dominating the landscape, they grow in size and loom over us menacingly as we approach. Theirimmense size makes us feel insignificant as the road winds between them.

The highway goes on. Hours and hours of asphalt pass beneath our tyres and still there’s further to go.

By early afternoon, we reach Albury, and I decide it’s as far as I want to drive in one day. It will be our last night alone for some time, and I want us to share some time together before Justin goes into serious hiding. I hesitate before taking the exit, as a thought occurs to me. Well, two thoughts really. We're still in New South Wales where conversion therapy is legal. And it's also where the police are looking for Justin. Albury and Wodonga are twin cities, one on each side of the border. If we just drive that extra five minutes, we can get into Victoria.

I make the decision. Wodonga, it will be.

Internally, I relax a little as we cross the border. Some of the tension eases from my shoulders. Maybe it's just psychological, but I feel safer now we've left my home state.

We pull off the by-pass, and I drive around until I locate a small family-run motel on the outskirts of town that has a ‘Vacancy’ sign. Pulling into the driveway, I park undercover next to a screen door where battered adhesive lettering spells ‘Reception’, with some of the letters starting to peel off.

Leaving Justin in the car, I open the screen door. A small bell jangles.

Reception consists of a small office, nothing more than a high counter with a desk and a chair. Beyond, a door opens from the house behind and a tinny cacophony of noise blasts through the doorway from a TV in the background.

A middle-aged man dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a battered pair of jeans comes through. His face is somewhat weary and lined, but not unfriendly.

“Good afternoon,” I say. “I need a room for the night. I saw your sign outside...?”

“How many people?”

“Two,” I reply.

“How many beds?” he asks, and I see what I didn’t notice before. There’s a security camera in the carport, and the guy is looking at the screen right now. The camera must be facing straight at the car, probably to get a good picture of the license plates, but the camera sees straight through the windscreen and there’s a very clear picture of Justin now showing on a screen on the reception desk.

Wodonga is a large enough town, and close to Melbourne, but it’s still pretty rural. I don’t know if two gay guys would have a problem here, and I don’t want to attract any attention at all.

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