Crisis of Identity

The humidity was noticeably higher stepping out from the bar’s climate controlled comfort. The atmosphere out on the balcony was alive; it had a pulse.

Next I had to try and find Mitch among the masses of people, whose combined presence must surely have tested the balcony’s engineering limitations.

As I scanned, I heard Mitch call from my right. His head poked out through the line of people leaning against the outer balcony rail. He raised a hand to me.

‘How did you manage this pole position…?’ I asked, handing him his beer.

‘Three girls stepped away from the handrail just as I walked along looking for a spot… Quite fit looking, too, I must say…’

‘From what I’ve seen so far, Bro… They’re all fit up here.’

We were three rounds in when Mitch asked, ‘do ya wanna go somewhere else, or do you want another…?’

‘I reckon we can go one more.’

Mitch downed his glass then gestured to mine. I drained mine and handed him my empty.

While waiting for Mitch to return, I took the opportunity to check out those easier on the eye. My crowd scanning locked onto the old guy from the bar. He had now moved out to the balcony, where he leaned a shoulder against the open bi-fold doorway, smoking a cigarette.

He twisted his mouth sideways sending the smoke skyward, all the time staring in my direction. The next time I looked back, the old guy was stamping out his cigarette before returning his fixed glare to me.

Bar owner or not, this is getting creepy. I’d had just enough beers to affect my ‘consequences’ care factor. Do I go over and find out what this bloke’s problem is? Or do I just go over and sit him on his arse? I gave him my best, ‘what the fuck are you looking at’, glare. But all that achieved was a hit to my ego when the old guy didn’t flinch. He continued to check me out.

While I pondered my options about how to handle this old bloke, Mitch emerged from the bar and handed me my drink. ‘I thought it was time for an upgrade,’ Mitch said. ‘Bourbon and rocks.’

It was my favourite go-to after having a fill on the beers. I took a sip then leaned on the hand rail.

‘You OK, Bro...?’ Mitch asked. Concern lines filled his face. ‘Too early for the bourbon…?’

‘No. No, good drink choice mate. It’s just…’ I checked over my shoulder at the old guy still watching me. ‘See that old prick over by the door…’

Mitch sipped his bourbon as he casually glanced back to the door. ‘Aha. What about him?’

‘He’s been staring at me all night. You know…in a creepy way. He just stares. First at the bar, now out here on the balcony. I’ve just about had a gut full, bro…’

‘I don’t think you’ll have to wait long to find out what he wants… he’s coming this way.’

I glanced over my shoulder. The old man lifted his chin at me in a muted greeting. I ignored it and returned my focus to the beach revellers below. ‘If he puts the word on me, mate…I’m gunna smash him.’

‘Excuse me…’ the old man said.

I ignored him. My jaw tightened.

‘Excuse me…I’m sorry to bother you…’ he tried again.

After giving Mitch my ‘see what I mean’ glare, I glanced over my shoulder at the old guy, giving him the silent ‘fuck off’, then turned back to leaning on my elbows watching the beach activity.

Mitch turned and fronted the old guy. ‘What’s your problem bloke…?’ he blurted. Mitch’s six feet five inch frame towered over the much smaller, creepy old man.

The old guy held up his hands. ‘I don’t have any problem…I was just wondering if you boys were locals, or visitors to the region…’

I scoffed, shaking my head in annoyance. ’That’s original…. I bet that line has ’em queuing up to give you head jobs in the toilets, granddad… It’s right up there with pearls like, ‘do you come here often’.

‘What…?’

I pivoted around and eyeballed the old guy. He had the stench of a full ashtray. He stared back at me through bloodshot eyes. ‘We’re not gay, mate,’ I blurted, glaring into his deep set eyes. ‘So fuck off…!’ I flicked my hand toward the doorway then returned to leaning on my elbows.

‘No. No. No. No. You’ve got it all wrong,’ the old guy said to my back. ‘I’m not propositioning you…’ he said. I didn’t respond, but I fired off a frustrated glare to Mitch.

The old guy touched my shoulder. ‘Excuse me. Can I talk to you for a minute?’

The hand on my shoulder was only light, but I didn’t want him touching me. I spun around and faced him ready to escalate this further. As I did so he flipped open a badge. ‘My name is Brent Dawes… I’m a Detective here on the Coast…’ he said.

I didn’t respond. If I was supposed to be impressed, I wasn’t. I shrugged and turned my back and leaned on the hand rails. My patience was melting quicker than the ice in my drink.

‘You look familiar. I was wondering if you’re from around here…’

‘Nuh…’ I said, keeping a disinterested back to the old guy.

‘Are you from Queensland…?’

Mitch fronted the old guy. ‘Look mate… I don’t care if you’re a cop, or not… We’ve done nothin’ wrong here, so it’s none of ya business where we’re from… OK! Time you were gone. It must be passed your bedtime grandpa…’

‘Look… I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just wondering if your friend’s name is Jayden?’ he said to Mitch.

Jayden… Who the fuck is Jayden…? I didn’t dignify his question with an answer, hoping he would go away before I did something I’d regret.

‘Look… I was wondering if your name is Jayden Evans,’ he tried again.

I turned to face the old man. I gave him the best disinterested glare I could muster. ‘If you’re talking to me…No. Sorry. Wrong bloke,’ I said.

‘You’re not Jayden Evans…?’

‘That’s what I just said... I don’t know any Jayden Evans…’

‘Are you from Queensland?’

‘No.’

The cop shook a confused head.

‘Look… What’s this about?’ Mitch asked.

‘A three year old boy went missing from the front yard of his home just south of here… and has never been seen since…’ the old cop said.

‘That’s tragic, but what’s that got to do with me?’ I asked

‘Tell me this…’ the old cop said. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-eight.’ I probably fired off my answer too quick, rather than waiting to consider the relevance. Thinning patience can do that.

‘That three year old kid went missing twenty-five years ago… His name is Jayden Evans. Today is his birthday… He’d turn twenty-eight…’

‘I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.’

Mitch’s face tightened. ‘Evans…?’ he frowned as he nudged my arm. ‘The old man on the news tonight… Wasn’t his name someone Evans…?’

The cop nodded. ‘You’re correct. Graham Evans was his name. That was Jayden’s father. He passed away yesterday. His funeral is the day after tomorrow. The poor bloke went to his grave never knowing what happened to his beloved son. Never knew if his boy was alive or dead… Twenty-five years he carried the burden of wondering what happened to his boy…’

‘That’s pretty sad… Truly, but what’s that got to do with me?’ I asked.

‘We’ve had computer generated photos prepared estimating what Jayden would look like today… And I gotta say… The photos look remarkably like you.’

‘Let me see if I understand you correctly…’ I said, oozing with sarcasm. ‘Are you saying that I look like a missing three year old boy whose photo you have digitally aged…?’

The cop pulled a packet of Marlboros from inside his suit. ‘I am…’ the cop said. He extended the open packet to me. I shook my head. He did the same to Mitch with the same response. ‘Do you mind…?’ he asked lifting the cigarette packet to me.

I waved the back of my hand at him. ‘Free country…’

The cop lit up his durry and dragged in a lung full of smoke. Twisting his mouth to the side, he jetted the smoke skyward.

‘I’m sorry to burst your bubble, mate,’ I said, briefly watching the dissipating plume. ‘But I was born and raised in WA…’

‘I can vouch for that…’ Mitch said. ‘We went to school together.’

‘For what it’s worth, this is the first time I have ever been to Queensland, OK,’ I added in an attempt to further dissuade his interest in me.

The cop held a silent, but assessing glare at me. He nodded slowly. His cigarette glowed in the darkness, as he dragged in another lung full. His puzzled eyes flicked between Mitch and me as he exhaled the smoke skyward. ‘OK. OK,’ he nodded, clearly unconvinced. ‘Sorry to bother you… It’s just that the resemblance is remarkable.’

‘Resemblance to a computer generated image…’ I said cynically. ’If this kid is alive today… he could be bald… He could be fat. He could have a full Ned Kelly beard. He could have all of the above, or any number of other characteristics that differ from your computer generated guess of what he looks like today…’

‘You may be right… Do you mind if I ask your name…?’

‘Well, I can tell you it’s not Jayden Evans. OK…’

The cop slipped a card from his shirt pocket and held it out between extended fingers. ‘Look… I hear what you are saying. This is my card. If you ever want to talk about anything… Give me a call anytime day or night…’

I didn’t even look at the card. ‘Talk to you about what…?’

‘Anything.’

‘I don’t have anything to talk to you about, mate… I’m here on holidays… OK. That’s it.’

The cop pushed the card towards me. ‘It can’t hurt, can it…?’

With a deliberate over emphasized roll of my eyes I snatched the card, using all my restraint not to flick it over the balcony to the road below. ‘I’m not your guy…’

‘OK. I appreciate your time, anyway.’ The cop pointed to our glasses. ‘Can I get you guys another round, for your troubles…?’

‘No, we’re good. We’re about to hit a club,’ I said.

The cop nodded and lifted a hand. I watched him disappear through the crowd and into the bar.

‘Thank fuck he’s gone, bro…’ I blurted.

‘You realize that cop was talking about the old guy on the news tonight… the one who I said looked like you in 30 years…’

I leaned my elbows on the hand rail. ‘Yeah… I got the connection. Pretty weird isn’t it?’