Mic Returns to Reconnect

(Set in New Zealand)

"Michael John Dobbins, you have been found guilty of urinating in the ornamental fountain pond in front of Balmoral's Courthouse and are hereby convicted on a charge of indecent behaviour and fined $250.00 with Court costs of $310.00."

"Had you committed that oafish act during the hours of darkness I may have merely rebuked you and then discharged you without conviction. But in your arrogant disregard for the finer feelings of citizens passing by, you committed the offence at 12:30 pm on a Friday when the town centre was crowded. Your only explanation was you had consumed 10 or 11 glasses of beer in celebrating your 21st birthday and had the urged to release processed beer. This town would be a happier town without the likes of you Dobbins."

"Stand down."

- - - -

Nine years later Mick Dobbins returned to Balmoral for the first time since shaming his family on that day he appeared in Court and the proceedings were reported under the heading 'Slammed for Disgusting Behaviour' on page 5 of

The Balmoral Beacon

.

Mick hadn't minded frog-faced Judge Mellows hinting that he was a disgrace and the community would be better off without him in its midst. But was mortified an hour later when his mother broke her tight-lipped silence and said Michael had shamed the family and he should go off and never return.

Ten minutes later Mick appeared with two packed suitcases and told his father to sell or dump everything else left behind.

"But what about your beloved road racing bike and huge collection of treasured books?"

"Sell them dad; they are of no use to me in purgatory.'

He shook hands with his white-faced father, shook his head at his self-righteous mother and left. As he drove off his mother ran from the house shouting "Michael, Michael, please write."

Their only child tooted the horn and waved a hand out the driver's window to indicate he'd heard her plea but accelerated away unmoved. He stopped in Currie Street to say goodbye to his girlfriend Melody Burton also home for the mid-term break from her university.

Alas only Mrs Burton appeared at the door. Scowling she said Melody had told her to say she didn't wish to see him again as he'd disgraced his family and embarrassed her as people would associate her with the offender.

"Piss off you idiot and learn how to act like a decent human being," Sylvia Burton said vehemently.

Mick turned on his heels and slunk off, head down.

Driving off with the front windows down and the stereo up loud, his inner peace began developing and he sighed, "You stupid piece of shit Dobbins."

He grinned and realized that at last he was blaming himself and only himself for his minor misdemeanour that had lilted his life off centre - but only slightly. At the end of the day he'd after that unfortunate behavioural outburst he'd bounce back into favour.

Mick was mortified that he'd lost his mother's respect and perhaps even worse he'd been told to forget his parents providing the estimated $40,000 he'd need to complete his degree in architecture.

When stopping for coffee and time to think, Mick removed two used condoms from the dashboard of his mother's former car she'd given him for graduating high school and receiving the Morgan-Allen prize for being the top male student in academics.

He wondered if his mum and that frog-faced judge would condemn him for throwing the condoms on the dashboard two evenings ago when in fact the culprit was drunk Melody Burton who'd twice removed a condom and pleaded with him to drench her um torso but actually she did call them tits.

Mindful that the problem of university funding posed a new challenge, Mick after tossed the condoms in the trash container outside the café and called Melody.

"Hi."

"Mick wish never wish to talk to you again"

Click.

He thought that was performed with clarity and he tried not to sulk.

Mick didn't have to think hard about where to find hospitality including a bed. He drove 180 km to Uncle Jeff's farm.

Jeff was his mother's older brother and those two disliked each other but Mick had spent great summer holidays on the farm as a schoolboy. His mum worked out that placement in her desperation to have him off somewhere else during the long summer days and thus escape his whining that he was bored and had tired of reading comics.

Jeff came from the house grinning and chortled, "Tired of pissing all over town eh? I read about you in the newspaper. You and I are the only ones in our lot to have made the news columns for good or bad reasons. That makes us celebrities."

"Uncle Jeff..."

"Mick call me Jeff now that you are almost twenty-one and ended your youth with a criminal record."

Mick cringed.

"Be proud of your past son and don't let the bastard get you down. As you know from your mother I've been in the slammer a couple of times for not paying Government taxes and two wives and countless girlfriends have walked out on me because I'm such a fucking asshole. Just let others worry about your crimes and your antisocial behaviour - that's the term for it isn't it?"

Mick nodded.

"You know Mick you're a good bloke and the only one in my extended family that doesn't regard me as a piece of shit. Let's get stuck into the booze."

"I-I've decided to never drink beer again."

"Well wine for you; the veteran babes who visit me to get a decent length are always arriving with 6-packs of wine and I have stacks of unopened bottles. I feed the wine they leave opened to the pigs and that's got me the reputation of rearing pigs that produce the best bacon in the district."

"You must have many women calling on you Jeff."

"Well yes and they are trained to call first to make sure I'm not servicing someone else. Sometimes they probably pass on the road when leaving or coming here."

"That must make you proud for being of real service to womanhood."

"What? Oh yeah and you know I admire your smart way of thinking."

Over dinning that night of bacon and black olive pie accompanied by mashed potato and shredded spinach, Jeff asked his nephew how he was progressing at university.

"My marks are good, if that's what you mean and at the end of last year I won the prize the Richmond Tennis and Swimming Club offered our department for designing a three-stage progressive upgrade of its clubrooms and administration centre."

"Christ I remember seeing the realistic-looking sketch in the newspaper; you did that?"

"Yeah it was a CAD-assisted drawing and there was a single column picture of me in the story acknowledging me as the designer."

"You mean architect?"

"No is this country only fully qualified and registered architects can be called architects."

"I'm sorry I missed reading about your involvement. I mainly read headings and look at the large pictures. That must mean you'll probably graduate with honours?"

"Nah I won't be returning for the new semester."

"Are you crazy?"

"No it's because I have no choice. On the day of my court appearance mum bullied dad into agreeing they would no longer fund my university studies and living expenses."

"The bitch. Well you listen to me Mick you've always been a winner in my eyes and you're returning to university. I'll pay your fees."

Mick waved a fork at his uncle and said that was huge generosity in spirit but unfortunately hard cash was required.

"Yeah I know that buddy, I only look dumb. How much will you need, fifty grand or a hundred grand?"

"But you have no money."

"Who said that?"

Mick looked away embarrassed.

"Oh my fucking sister eh? Come on what has she been saying."

"That you are penniless, living in debauchery and gambling away every spare buck you have."

"The bitch. Gawd what your father ever saw in her I'll never know because she's forbidden him to talk to me. Most of the women who come here keep me in beer and food and I spend fuck-all on housekeeping. How much will you need - make it the minimum figure."

Mick said something.

"Speak up boy; it's your mother who's the bitch not you."

"I said forty grand."

"You've got it."

After dinner Jeff went over to the barn and returned with a filled shopping bag that he dropped into Mick's lap as the young guy watched one of his uncle's porn videos.

"There's forty-five thousand bucks."

"Wow Jeff, this is unbelievable. I'll race to repay it."

"No you won't and that's enough of that sloppy stuff. Just as straight thanks is sufficient for me and you are to regard it was a lifetime loan - in my lifetime that is and this loan is to remain a secret. In return you must design me a small but luxurious replacement house because for years some of the women who come here complain I live in a dump."

"Well you don't clean it and you allow hens, dogs and your goat to wander through it looking for picking and..."

"Are you saying I mustn't allow that in the new house or is that just damn criticism?"

"Er I'm saying no poultry, ducks, farm dogs and the goat in the new house, absolutely not, and that will enhance your reputation."

"Oh I like the way you think boy. At least you got your mother's looks and brains from her although nothing else including affection. But your dad has been great to you."

Mick nodded and said, "You have been shunned by the family for most of your life and it never broke your spirit and my hard life has not stripped my spirit. Fuck them all eh Jeff?"

"Well said but your mother will gradually come around and take you back. She couldn't bear to write you off as one of her failures."

"That's bullshit Jeff. Go and watch porn while I'll clear away and do the dishes."

"Just leave everything on the kitchen bench rinsed and just wash anything when you want to use it. That's called the Jefferson Graham Efficiency in Housekeeping."

"Christ it's a wonder salmonella or botulism haven't killed you."

"Nah those things infect fussy people with good hygiene who indulge in a small lapse. The only thing that will kill me is death."

"Oh awesome thinking and attitude Jeff. That's why I've always liked you.

* * *

Architect Mick Dobbins had purchased the apartment above the Delectable Deli in Balmoral that was beside Michelle's Dress Boutique that were his mother's favourite two shops in town for as long as he could remember. He'd learned on a Balmoral property sales page on the Internet that the long established deli was being closed and the John and Jane Salter who'd owned and operated the business for 37 years were retiring.

After nine years in self-encouraged exile Mick had tired of the shallow social society he was associated with in Wellington and the professionally jealous bitches and bastards in domestic architecture he often competed against for commissions. He'd long toyed with the idea of returning home and when on a regular call to Jeff, his benefactor, he decided to cut loose and go.

Jeff had been in hospital and told his nephew he was in a bad way with heart disease. He'd decided to sell up and move into a retirement village that had basic as well as full-care facilities for terminally ill patients.

"Get a heart transplant," Jeff urged.

"Nah I'm not going to take some worthy person's place in the line of people waiting for transplants," his uncle said.

Mick arrived in Balmoral next morning, hired a car at the airport and spent most of the day with his uncle to get him to change his mind but without success. He was shocked by the deterioration in Jeff's appearance since they toured the South Island in a camper van 10 months earlier.

"No surgery and my specialist backs that up saying I'm unsuitable for a transplant."

"Bullshit."

Jeff handed his nephew a medical report the set out the reasons why Jeff was not a suitable candidate for a heart transplant.

The surgeon said in the final paragraph that the panel had come to that decision with regret and that doubted whether any transplant surgeon would take on such a high-risk patient and face the possibility of being dealt with severely by the National Medical Council for irresponsible decision-making.

"Well that pretty emphatic."

"That's what I like about you Mick; you readily admit if you make a mistake but don't fuss with apologies."

"Jeff I..."

"I know but can it."

"Does mum know about this?"

"I would think so; I sent her a letter and a copy of the report"

"Don't tell me she failed to come rushing to be with you; please Jeff I couldn't bear to think..."

"Come on now, be a man. No she didn't show up or telephone. But a week later she sent me a Get Well card."

"What a bitch."

"Yeah son, it pleases me on the occasions when you can agree with me emphatically.

Mick sold his Wellington apartment and another architect waiting to advance bought Mick's junior partnership shares from him with the consent of the board. Mick used most of his boosted funds to buy the lease of the street fronting premises of the outgoing deli proprietors and to buy outright the apartment above it. He applied for a bank loan to finance the cost of converting the commercial premises into architectural and structural engineers' offices.

Ten days before moving to Balmoral (population 29,000 but immediate country catchment area including three small ring towns increased that population to 43,800), Mick learned that Uncle Jeff had died in his sleep.

"I'm surprised I've been notified," Mick said, pleased that he had been.

"Mr Graham registered you as his next-of-kin. We were obliged to notify you and you need to be here to act in his interests."

"I'll be with you in the morning Mrs Giddy. Could you please arrange a funeral director that your establishment has dealt with in the past and knows the outfit performs at least satisfactorily."

"Certainly Mr Dobbins. You will also need to confer with the late Mr Graham's solicitor about transferring his occupancy rights back to us at the time we are able to on-sell those rights to an incoming resident. We have several people waiting for a single occupant unit like that one."

Mick attended the funeral and met his father but was devastated his mother was a no-show.

"You mother is in bed with influenza," said his dad. And later, "Your mother is having a bad time being bed-bound with that um infected big toe."

Mick chose not to enquire about the discrepancies between his mother's ailments. It didn't need ferreting to discover why she wasn't there.

He waited outside with his dad chatting and a guy came up and greeted his father.

Mick this is Sam Whiting; Sam this is my son Michael.

"Are Michael you are my late client's principal beneficiary and I understand you designed the new house that Mr Graham enjoyed living in for almost eight years before he was hospitalized."

"Hi Mr Whiting, I'm pleased to meet you. Yes I designed Jeff's house and helped him burn down that shack he had been living in for thirty to forty years. Um I think there's been a mistake. The retirement village said I was named by Jeff as his next of kin but that should be mum, she was his sister and only living immediate relative."

"Yes and Jeff sought advice from me about naming you as his next-of-kin by preference. Everything about that is in order. I would like you to come to my office at 10:00 in the morning. Here is my card."

Mick saw Melody's mother Mrs Burton arrive and she looked at him and appeared astonished and muttered something he couldn't hear like 'Jesus Christ' or whatever women say when shocked. Oh yes, she probably said Omigod.

He eyed Mrs Burton again and she was on her phone looking at him and talking.

Mick guessed she was calling in her husband and pals to group and run him out of town.

Just over twenty people attended the service and everyone was invited to stay for coffee and sandwiches. The catering appeared to be spot-on so probably Mr Whiting had been consulted on estimated attendance.

Mick passed a plate of chicken sandwiches to his father who took two and said, "The caterer called me and asked me to estimate attendance and I said no more than thirty. I appear to be spot on. Your mother reckoned I'd over-estimated by about twenty-five."

Mick looked around and caught sight of a vision of loveliness entering the room.

She came straight up to him and said confidently, "Mick."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, shocked.

"Mel?"

"It is I," she smiled.

Mick hoped he wouldn't dribble.

He couldn't believe it, Melody had swapped her slenderness for curves over the past nine years, her mouth appeared to have widened, her teeth looked great, she was now blonde with waves and she was no longer small-breasted.

"Wow I'm so pleased to see you again. Won't you kiss me?"

Mick replied to Miss Gorgeous, "Your mum would scream 'Rape' if I tried that one."

"Mum phoned me to say you were here, and I came scampering. Mum and your mum admitted over-reacting after your Court appearance and rue the day, to quote Shakespeare who made that phrase famous. They meet occasionally to talk about you and wonder where you are and what you're doing. Have you been peeing your way around the country and off-shore?"

"Oh Mick, I'm sorry for that bad joke, a desperately bad joke. I'll die unless you forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive; you always had a cutting edge to your humour. Who did you marry and how many kids?"

"Single women tend to avoid having births Mick. Mum claims I've been waiting for you to return but I'm only twenty-nine and busy establishing a career but I could marry in a year or two or three. And you?"

"I've never found another female prepared to roll of the condom and invite me to spray her tits. I'm only thirty, still making my way along my chosen path and perhaps I've been waiting for you to find me."

Melody looked at the time on her phone and said she must go, that she had to be at the council offices to be with the CEO to receive a deputation of irate citizens complaining about excessive dog excrement on town streets.

"What are you, the Mayor?"

"No silly I'm the council's public relations officer. It's my third year in the position. When will I see you again?"

"I shift back here on Friday week. You'll read an interview with me in the

Beacon

the next day."

"Oh will you stay with me until you find suitable accommodation? I'm sure my boyfriend who rents the place with me will understand."

"What you live with a guy?"

"Yes Mick and I trust you didn't think I'd go almost ten years without sex?"

"Yeah and it was a reasonable thought because went without," he lied,

Melody giggled and hurried off not waiting for his answer about temporary lodgings.

Mick stayed the night at a hotel, having no wish to be near his mother. He thought of calling some old friends in for a drink and a catch-up yap but decided that could wait for a couple of weeks.

In the morning he went to the offices of McKinnon, Owens and Whiting and was ushered into Mr Whiting's office and had morning tea with Mr Whiting and his associate Peter Blewitt who Mick had known slightly when at high school.

Before reading the will Sam said, "Mick I have a signed a valid agreement from your mother to release to you to counter-sign if and when appropriate. In the agreement she undertakes not to contest the will providing you have agreed to take the farm in return for you handing her your 50% of the cash left over after finalization of probate. That amount of money is expected to total in the vicinity of $450,000.'

"Agreed definitely," Mick said, having no wish to be engaged in a legal squabbled with his mother.

"You may take a day or two or even longer to consider that Mick."

"No I'm in agreement, finito."

"I explained to your mother in front of witnesses that the pig farm was worth a great amount of money subject to finding a buyer. Her response was no way would she wish to partly inherit a pig farm with a residence that had been nothing less than a den of iniquity."