Model Train

I don’t see the point of buying old things. When do you ever want an antique television? I’ve never found exhilaration over banging the top of the set to make it work and, when it does, having to stand up to change the channel. That’s an inconvenience. Ben seemed to think there was something addictive about these expired relics of history. My niece too, so this is why I’m here. She loves old shit. And I love her, so I guess that works. Ben is also cute, and I’m still keen to fuck him. I’m slightly concerned that his home is filled with furniture clothed in plastic covers.

"Oh, sorry", a man says as he bumps past me, finding his footing with an old walking stick on the patchy lawn. "Um... yeah, ok," I replied, barely noticing. Fuck, I’m still high. He could have broken my nose with that cane, and I would've barely tasted the blood as it trickled down across my lips. A loud voice over through the PA system fills the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, the live auction will begin in 5 minutes. Please make your way to the stage area". Hard pass for me. I’d rather watch Test cricket. If that announcement even happened, I can’t be sure. Wait, someone’s approaching me. Who’s that? Shit. I hope it’s not security. C’mon, I barely touched the guy!

"Hey sexy. Find anything you like? This is like a playground to me." Oh, it’s just Ben.

"There is too much to even process," I replied, biting my bottom lip.

"James, you’re looking for a birthday gift for a preteen. That should narrow your focus," Ben suggested, in a rather seductive way. Or at least I thought. Who knows.

"Grandfather clock?"

"No. That’s too cliche. Plus, for once, there aren’t any here."

"What about those Pacific Islander masks that were probably stolen from the British Museum?"

"Maybe she can use them to scare you?"

"Oh, I know, how about classic porn? I’m sure there are some tapes here somewhere."

"You’re silly. It’s cute. You’d need to buy an overhead projector with that." Ben sarcastically remarked. "What does she like?"

"Trains, actually", I replied. "Last weekend I took her out to Swan Hill, purely so she could ride the train and tell me everything there is about the clickety-clack."

"That’s sweet!"

"I’m not sure how much I retained. Something to do with carriage length, speed, construction cost. She loved it, though. Her smile is everything. It just makes me smile." Ben listened on with a widening grin. Thankfully, she only had enough knowledge to cover one direction of the journey, and the mobile data was patchy. She mostly slept on the way back."

"Perfect, start walking down that aisle", Ben gestured. "I need to head back to pick up a mirror. I was a hard customer and asked them to clean it again. I’ll take it to the car, then find you."

"Ha, hard. What are we using that mirror for?"

Ben winked and walked in the other direction.

Why am I this horny? I started walking up one of the aisles, lined with the smell of wood and leather. "Ladies and gentlemen, the auction will begin shortly. Please take your seats." Last night was a blur. Granted, Ben wasn’t there. The two other guys were smoking hot. I still want Ben, especially while this hit is at its peak. Thank God the dealer let me owe him. Well, he got a blowie as a down payment. I felt a little dirty, given that his car was so old. Those velvet seats have seen some sweaty asses, and not the good kind. I had no idea what it was, but it seemed like a classic car. Or maybe, just old. I’m surprised he’s not at this road show.

I passed old records, music posters of The Little River Band, Queen, and Midnight Oil. I was mildly intrigued by furniture clearly made for large houses, not aimed at the demographic bound to shared apartments. Where would I put a rocking chair? No verandah out the front for me. The crowds started to get thicker as we entered a narrow section. There was lots of chatter and classic music coming from various stalls I passed by, showcasing the tunes on offer. It muffled the PA speaker where the auction had begun. I started scratching my forearm. A gap in the crowd formed, so I darted across to the other side to another stall, finding some form of minor escape. I couldn’t really make out what was being sold. The items were morphing, ready to stand up. That’s weird. Antique transformers or something. Fuck, I didn’t like this. Bugs started to crawl across my body.

I looked up at the stall attendant. "Charlie?" I asked. He looked back at me, puzzled. "Sorry mate, wrong person," he replied, glancing down at my nails as they worked their way across my skin. I shook my head a bit and saw a middle-aged man staring back.

"No, sorry, never mind," I said, and disappeared into the crowd. Jesus, why did I see Charlie? That betraying prick. I gave the best years of my life to him, and I’m still paying for the therapy. Should send him the invoice. I need to find Ben.

I continue down the aisle, trying to find a small opening to breathe. The people seem to be getting taller and louder, arching over me like Edvard Munch’s The Scream. I fish my phone from my pocket, failing to unlock it with my Face ID. All I can see is the background photo. Me hugging (and tickling) my niece from behind, both breaking out in laughter. I make it to the end of the aisle and into some sort of T-junction. I resort to the passcode to access my messages. My fingers tap out "Where are you?" and I fling the message to Ben.

I look up, and there, dead in front of me, is a stall selling trains. I look around. I feel like someone is following me. I quickly dodge through the thinning crowd to the train sets and place my phone on the table, trying to control my breathing. The well-groomed gentleman behind the counter is serving someone else. Let me just take a second. Fuck, maybe I should’ve come down yesterday. A crowd applauds in the distance. "We are now moving onto the second item," the PA introduces.

I open my eyes slowly, with my head tilted down, and am greeted with the pure designs of the model trains. The detail is striking; even I can see that. Each tiny panel, curve, and crevasse is delicately painted. I can even make out the model's nuts and bolts along the locomotive. Fascinating. I put my hand out and gently stroked one of them. I hope this doesn’t look weird. They felt high quality. Not factory made. I can’t identify the materials, but it’s exactly how I thought a steam engine would feel if it were full size. It was hard, intriguing, and a bit intoxicating. I can only imagine that even the models cost a fortune.

"Hi there! Magnificent, isn’t it?" the stall owner and assumed train aficionado claimed.

"They certainly look it. I don’t know a heap about trains, so I’m a golden customer to rip off," I replied.

"Ha! I don’t work in real estate. I’m here because I love designing them. A gift for someone, I presume?"

"Yes, my niece. She loves trains."

Well, you’re a generous uncle. I’ll admit, these aren’t cheap, but they're better than buying new." He grabbed the train, to which I still had my hands glued, and tilted the base up towards my locked eyes.

"Yikes." I said.

"Yep. And just remember, you’ll set a benchmark. Is it a special birthday?"

"Nah. But I missed her last two birthdays, so I feel like I owe her."

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she’ll forgive you with this gift."

"She already has. She always does, no matter how many times I fuck up". The man was taken aback slightly but remained both intrigued and concerned.

"Well, she sounds like she comes from a wonderful family", he said softly. I smiled and nodded. I didn’t quite have the heart to tell him that two birthdays ago I favoured a holiday with my ex, and last year I was in the hospital getting stitches on my face from wounds caused by the same man. I wondered if he noticed my scar.

"This one is a display model. I have two more of these ones left. Give me a moment". He disappeared into the marquee behind the stall. I was still holding the model, with its face staring back at me. My eyes start to blur, and I wipe the moisture away with the back of my hand. I could see steam coming from the top of the little train.

"Well, well, well," I heard from behind me. Ben obviously found me. I swing around, still with the train in my hand at head height. The face that greets me is not Ben's. It was a face I last saw in partial darkness, in the back of a vintage, armpit-smelling car. I was nose-to-nose with my dealer, Dave. He had a blank expression on his face. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it to reveal the bottom of the train. "Interesting. You magically have cash to spend on expensive toys."

"I can explain," I said quickly.

"Are you high on it right now?" Dave asked. I didn’t reply.

"I had a big sales list this weekend. I needed to buy more but was missing just the right amount of cash to do so. And for a shit BJ."

"It’s not like that. This is something I’ve been saving for a while." I thought it best not to mention my niece.

"I don’t really give a shit. What you gonna do? Give back the borrowed drugs? You realise you’re dependent on me? If I cut you off, you’re fucked. You need me." Dave’s grip tightened. My hand started to change colour. People were walking all around us, unaware of what was happening in such close quarters. The noise of the PA in the distance was muffled and broad. The noise felt like it was closing in, against me, becoming more and more indistinguishable.

"Dave I promise I’m not trying to fuck you over. I will pay you as soon as I get paid later this week. I swear. What can I do to make it up in the meantime?" I blurted it out quickly, with trickles of sweat falling from my hairline and down my forehead.

"You’re going to do nothing. Isn’t he, David?" Ben took a few big strides into our huddle, shoulders back, chin up. Dave looked over, and his face slowly relaxed. His grip loosened. "What are you doing here?" Dave asked.

"Take a guess. How much does he owe you?" Ben asked while pulling out a wad of cash. Dave let go and took half a step back, grabbing a few notes of cash from Ben’s bundle.

"Cool. Are you happy now? Finished your exploitation?" Ben asked. Dave looked back at me briefly before walking off into the crowd briskly.

The applause from the crowd at the auction became audible again. "Thank you everyone. Now, for the final piece. This one is a beauty."

My eyes filled with water. "Oh, my god." The air started to widen.

"Hey, don’t worry, he’s gone now. Do you need to sit for a minute?"

I grabbed Ben’s shoulder to keep my balance and catch my breath. "Thank you so much. I will pay you back, I promise."

"Don’t stress about it. Are you buying this model train?"

"Yes, but I have savings for this." Ben tried to turn back to the stall, and I gripped his shoulder, stopping him.

"How did you know? About me? About Dave?"

"Well, I didn’t know about you, but I suspected it. Dave is a dick, like most hookups you get besotted with when you’re younger. Then I figured out his manipulative side and moved away from that toxic energy."

I stared back at his big brown eyes, studying the empathy behind them. "You need to teach me how to detect that," I said.

Ben chuckled. "Pleasure."

"Why did you continue going on dates if you knew about my... problem?" I asked inquisitively.

"Always open the book. Your heart is in the right place. We gays have all suffered scarring of some sort."

"What’s yours?" I asked.

"Tell you later. I promise. After the birthday."