Excerpt: Sundown

I was alone in the room with James Pearson. The reality of this fact seemed to hit me then, and I mumbled something about my hair as I hastily turned for the bed and grabbed up my hairbrush. I sat on the bed and started to brush, my back to him. A moment later he moved into view again, coming around to sit in the chair opposite the bed. He looked huge in the armchair, his legs much longer than it had been designed for. He rested his forearms on the arms of the chair and clasped his hands together in front of him, and settled in seemingly as comfortably as he could.
He smiled reassuringly as I met his gaze uncertainly, and I relaxed again. Somewhat.
"Thanks for staying," I said. "Not that I really need a babysitter. The door is locked. I mean, nothing's going to happen. Come to think of it, nothing really did happen."
I was rambling, just to fill the silence. I was talking just for the sake of it. I was nervous enough that silence just wouldn't do.
"It makes everyone feel better if you're not alone," was all he said.
"But why you?" I asked before I knew I had even been thinking it.
He shrugged. "Can't have anything happening to someone who can play guitar like you. I'm happy to do my part to preserve that kind of talent."
I huffed, and tugged on a particularly stubborn knot in my hair, wincing as the pain relayed to the egg on the back of my head. "But you don't think I'm a pathetic, helpless loser."
He smiled, amused now. "No, I don't."
"So…then you're really just doing this to make everyone else feel happy?"
He shrugged, but didn't say anything. I decided to ask him something I'd been wondering about for a little while now.
"How well do you know Edgar Delaney?"
He looked surprised. "Pretty well. Why?"
I tilted my head, working through more knots. "I dunno. He just seems…like an interesting person to me."
James laughed. "He is that." He was frowning now, though. "I figured you two…I dunno, knew each other. You didn't know him before yesterday?"
I shook my head. "Of course not. He's not exactly a local boy."
James nodded. "True."
I was frowning now as well. "What was it that made you think we knew each other?"
"Well, he's the reason I was there that first day, so early. Sure, I tend to rise fairly early, but it was only 'cause of his recommendation that I came to the oval so early."
I was taken aback, to say the least. "He recommended me…in what way?"
James smiled. "What do you think? Stellar guitar technique."
"You're joking. But he hasn't seen me play…"
"Well, it seems maybe he has. Or…I dunno, maybe he heard about you from someone else."
I looked doubtful. "Come on. I'm only known locally. I know I'm only known locally because I hear people from interstate go, 'Who?' when my band or any of us are mentioned. Nobody knows us outside our own little coccoon."
He shrugged again. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. All I know is what he told me. And I didn't question it—just took him at his word, as I tend to do. Edgar knows his shit when it comes to music."
I fell silent, not sure what to make of this new development. How would Delaney have known to recommend me to anyone? Incidentally, why would he have thought to recommend me? I knew I was a decent player, but I was hardly from outer space.
I noticed then that James was smiling at me again.
"How's your head?" he asked.
I hadn't got to the back of my head yet, which would require very careful brushing. I pressed my lips together and took the first chunk of hair from back there, tugging through the knots. With the right technique I felt no pain at all.
"Just throbs a bit, now and then," I told him. "I felt lots better after my shower."
"You probably should have gone to a doctor," he said then. He sounded a little disapproving of the fact that I hadn't.
"I was too busy falling asleep. Sorry."
I'd sounded a little defensive, but he only smiled.
"No need to apologise."
I looked at him with an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
"What is with you?" I asked.
He looked surprised. "What do you mean?"
I realised I didn't know what I meant. I looked down sheepishly and shrugged.
"I don't know much about you," I said after a moment.
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
I didn't know that either. Couldn't he just volunteer something? Some interesting tidbit?
"What's your mum's name?" I asked.
He laughed. "Gloria. Next?"
I pursed my lips in thought. "Um…do you like ice cream?"
He wrinkled his nose. "Not much."
"Favourite beer?"
"Don't like beer."
I sighed. "What do you like then?"
He laughed again and held his hands out questioningly. "What kinda question is that? It's kind of open-ended don't you think?"
"Well, the closed questions weren't getting many results."
He nodded, still chuckling softly. "Fair enough. Well, let's see…what do I like? I like winter. I like birds. As in, the animal."
"But not as in the people?" I asked, teasing him.
He smiled. "I like them too."
"What else?"
He thought for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "I like buses."
"You do?"
"Yeah, don't know what it is."
I heard something in his voice then that suggested perhaps he did know. I looked at him curiously, pausing ever so briefly in my hair-brushing.
"Where did you grow up?" I asked.
He looked a little uncomfortable then, and I wondered why.
"Oh," he said, "all sorts of places. Moved 'round a lot."
I fell silent for a moment.
"What, you're done?" he asked in surprise.
I shrugged. "Maybe I've bugged you enough." That was half statement and half question. I peered at him curiously from beneath a fall of wet, brushed-out hair.
"No, it was fine," he said, "But maybe it's my turn now?"
I nodded. "Go ahead."
He asked me questions about my primary schools, my favourite pair of shoes—he wasn't surprised to hear that they were actually boots—and what pets I'd had as a child. He seemed to be intrigued by stories of my childhood and my parents. I saw an almost wistful look in his eyes as I recounted tales of Christmases long past, family holidays with the extended relatives, the many birthday parties I'd been given, and all of that. He seemed to come to the conclusion that I had had the most amazing childhood ever, and I suppose as I looked back on it it had been pretty good. But all this talk about myself made me wonder about him, and what his childhood had been like. If he thought that I was the luckiest person on earth for what I had grown up with, what was he comparing it to?
I didn't ask, of course. I sensed that there were some places it was way too early to go, and that would be one of them. But I was burning with curiosity nonetheless.