Rhythm

by

John Terry Moore
 

“The Rhythm of Life has a powerful beat,

Puts a tingle in your fingers, and a tingle in your feet,

 Rhythm in your bedroom

 Rhythm in the street 

Yes, the Rhythm of Life is a powerful beat.”

PART ONE

UNIVERSITY DAYS

CHAPTER 1

The electric commuter bus sat outside the administration building of the university in the late morning sun.  An orientation tour was about to begin; the academic year was about to get underway and new students were being bussed around to help them identify where basically to sleep, eat, shit and study, more or less in that order.  The university was an icon in the town, a regional centre in Australia with a great reputation for academic excellence, a strong but not overbearing sporting reputation, and an even better record for recruiting and encouraging young people who had a desire to simply excel; regardless of their personal circumstances or background, particularly ethnicity and sexuality. 

Adam Church strode quickly into the summer sun, ducking his head as he entered the bus.  There was only one seat vacant; and he moved down the aisle; stopping to ask the other occupant if he could sit down.  There was a broad answering grin from the incumbent; a good-looking guy about his own age with a cowlick of dark hair plastered across his forehead; and perhaps the most brilliant blue eyes Adam had probably ever seen on another human being.  “Well you’d better sit here, otherwise you’ll be running behind,” he said, “and it’s such a hot day you’d be all moist in the wrong parts of your body!” 

“And in a few of the right ones,” shot back Adam.  “Adam Church,” he said, holding out his hand and gripping the guy’s hand in a firm shake. 

“Patrick Benson” said his neighbour.  “Where y’ from?” 

“Western District,” replied Adam, “and you?” 

“Oh I’m from Melbourne,” he said, “but mum made an executive decision that I should live in whilst I’m at uni so here I am.”  They listened companionably as the bus did its circuit around the University grounds.  They were informed that the basic infrastructure had been put in place some forty years previously and like most modern learning institutions in Australia, student numbers had increased whilst funding had remained stationary.  Accommodation consisted of separate male and female blocks of shared rooms, two to a room.  For married students, overseas students and a few super lucky individuals, there were a series of rental homes around the closest suburbs.  That was the good news.  The bad news?  They were all allocated!  “Why bloody tell us about the bloody mini-Hiltons if we can’t have one?” whined Patrick. 

“Oh, I think we’ll have a better time around here anyway,” replied Adam.  “You play any sport?” he enquired. 

“I’ve done quite a bit of rowing; I can’t abide the Aussie Rules football culture and I’m no good with ball games like tennis and cricket,” said Patrick. 

“Jeez me either, but I’ve done a bit of single sculling, particularly last season.  Our little country club couldn’t get an eight together and there was an old sculling boat there, not being used and I won a few races.” 

“Ahh; I remember you,” said Patrick, his eyes shining.  “From the country regattas.  I’ve also had a go in a sculling boat, but never raced,” he said.  “But at least I tried, I suppose.  My late father was big on participation, not on winning things.”  They chatted away, instantly super-comfortable in each other’s company, each providing a potted history of their backgrounds.  Adam was the youngest of three kids, his brother and sister were both married and living in the city and had satisfying careers and young families.  He had a dearly loved Uncle Will, (his father’s elder brother) and his partner, Maurie who were an important part of the immediate family group.  They ran a successful fine art and antique centre in the local town, and owned heaps of residential real estate.  Tom and Mary, his dad and mum, farmed the Church family property, running mainly wool sheep and cattle. 

There was no family hierarchy of succession on the property however; his siblings and he had been encouraged to develop to their full potential, doing whatever it was that turned them on in life.  So here he was attending law school, feeling his future lay not in agriculture, but probably as a suburban solicitor. 

And yes, he told Patrick, he still loved the property and was able to earn some extra dollars shearing and doing other manual work for the family during holidays. 

Patrick was an only child; his father, at 40 years of age had passed on with cancer.  The shock of his death, whilst profound for Patrick as a thirteen-year-old, had abated somewhat over the years, but left him with a sense of ‘do it now’; realising how tenuous life could be.  Thankfully, his late father had invested substantially and had up-to-date insurance policies which meant Patrick and his mum, Melanie were able to live reasonably comfortably. 

“Hey,” said Adam; “why don’t we share a room together?” 

“Sure,” replied Patrick, “as long as you don’t mind sharing with a gay guy.” 

“Why would I mind, with a beautiful gay uncle and his lovely partner in my life?”  “Cool; I’ll be out of your way most weekends because I spend those with my boyfriend in Malvern.” 

“Serious?  You been together long?” 

“Known each other for about two years, been an item for the last six months,” replied Pat.  “Mum doesn’t like him.  She’s cool with the gay thing but has begged me not to commit fully, as in moving in permanently.  So here I am, living with you during the week.  Hope you can put up with my hair in curlers every morning, with just a hint of lippy to make me look a bit mysterious in the evening over dinner.” 

Adam roared with laughter; “Oh you’re worse than Maurie, Uncle Will’s partner. You two would certainly spice up a dull Western District dinner party no end!!”