by Andrew Daddo
Again, her thoughts wandered back to the boy in the park. He might be anything. He might be the backward running champion of Australia. He might just be nice. And that was in the back of her mind whenever she went to the Botanic Gardens to walk Lucky. She told her Mum it was because of the trees and space and nature. She tried to convince herself it was the truth, but every time she got close to the place, the memory of him got a little clearer. He was a little taller and a little stronger and a little less sweaty.
When he didn’t front up, she pretended to enjoy the walk.
On this Tuesday, Emily had almost finished her lap of the Tan, with just the hill to go. Lucky was typically mental, trying to sniff everything at once, pissing all over the place. She was bigger, and had grown into most of the loose skin that makes puppies so cute, but she still had puppy brain. She’d get spooked by something and jump sideways or straight up in the air, landing with her feet wide. Then she would cock her head to look at whatever had startled her, and go sniff it or piss on it.
At the bottom of the hill, right near the corner, Emily tried to coax Lucky into a drink. She had to be hot the way she was panting and slobbering. Emily stood on the lead, leaning down with her hands cupped and full of water, but Lucky was having none of it, pulling away, as if trying to get her head out of the collar.
‘Drink, Lucky. Drink, you silly girl.’
Emily was about to stand up when someone came around the corner running like they’d stolen something and literally hurdled the two of them.
‘Shit!’ Emily barked, out of surprise more than anything. But the runner cleared them pretty easily. All Emily could think of saying was, ‘Yer right?’ And the runner landed cleanly and kept going, as if it were normal.
Emily couldn’t believe it. Who jumps over someone and keeps going? So she sang out, ‘Fuckin’ wanker’, without really looking to see who it was.
Hendrix couldn’t believe it.
Why so aggressive? All he’d done was jump the idiot taking up half the path on the blindside of the corner.
If anything, it was amazing he hadn’t landed on them, or crashed through them.
Hendrix slowed before he turned. He hit pause on his watch, kind of pissed to be interrupting his run.
Emily looked up from Lucky to see who the clown was.
‘Dog Stomper,’ she said under her breath.
Hendrix almost laughed. ‘It’s you again.’ He wished he’d come up with something clever.
‘It’s me again,’ went Emily, in a very matter-of-fact way. She had hold of Lucky who was alternately trying to lick her arm and get away from her. As soon as Emily loosened the lead, Lucky went for Hendrix, tail wagging madly. To her surprise, he took a step forward and crouched, grabbing Lucky on each side of the head and giving her an affectionate wrestle.
‘You look like you’re alright,’ Hendrix said. ‘Sorry about stepping on you that time. Bigger, isn’t he?’
This boy is all long, lanky limbs – like an enormous spider, thought Emily. She stood up and wished she’d thought more about her choice of clothing before leaving the house. As much as she’d wanted to see him, she hadn’t really thought she would. It’d been so long. A Mickey Mouse t-shirt! wailed the voice in her head. He’s going to think you’re nine years old. And it’s grey!
The heat of embarrassment and something else flushed her chest. She held her arms by her side in case she was sweating the way he was. At least he had the excuse of running; she was just walking the dog.
She was happy for the leggings because they were impossible to stuff up. She looked down to check, and was instantly horrified her socks didn’t match. Even worse, there were splotches of water from the bubbler all over the front of her t-shirt and the front of her leggings. In a best-case scenario, it might look like Mickey had pissed himself. Worst case, she had.
‘Bubbler,’ she mumbled, pointing at her shirt.
‘Huh?’ He was leaning forward as if his hearing was bad.
‘Bubbler. Bubbler,’ she said, pointing at her stomach again. While it made perfect sense to her, he looked like he was hearing another language.
‘It’s water from the bubbler. Not me,’ she said, wishing the words had never left her mouth. The boiler inside her was turned up high. She was dying.
Emily would have given anything to restart the conversation with something sharp like: ‘Step on any dogs lately?’ Not blurting ‘Bubbler bubbler’ which had probably come out as ‘Blubbler Blubbler’.
Pointing at her t-shirt, Emily blurted, ‘Mickey pissed himself.’ For sure he’s going to run off, she thought. But not jogging, sprinting for safety.
Hendrix laughed as he leaned back. It was an awkward Oh hoh! laugh. Like he was going to say something but a gust of air got in the way. He gently pushed Lucky away and rose to full height, looking slightly bewildered.
‘Did you just say Mickey pissed himself?’
‘Yes. No. Yes, yes I did.’ She was squinting against the sun. ‘It wasn’t me, put it that way.’
Hendrix laughed properly this time. ‘Of course not.’
Lucky was onto him, scratching at his shins. Emily couldn’t imagine this getting much worse. ‘Get off him, Lucky.’ She yanked on the lead, but Hendrix was fine, bending down.
‘Shhh,’ he said. ‘Down, boy. Down you get,’ and gently pushed the dog away.
He was gentle, Emily noticed. He was taller than she remembered. Skinnier, too. Not nearly as good looking and still needing a haircut. Still alright, but the image in her head had been of a natty English pop star – a cross between Harry Styles and Liam Gallagher, the singer from Oasis. She’d kissed that poster a few times.
Emily was sure she was blushing and her words had dried up. Why hadn’t he run off? Worse, he wasn’t saying anything.
Hendrix took a step closer, and got a handful of Lucky’s head, giving it a rub. He’d always wanted a dog but it’d only ever been talked about, not followed through. Hendrix held the dog’s gaze and said to it, ‘Fuckin’ wanker, eh? Is that you or me, dog?’
He grinned as he said it. Emily died.
‘You heard that?’ said Emily with her nose scrunched.
‘Hard not to.’ He looked up at her and his grin turned into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
‘Well, you know,’ said Emily, finally getting herself together. ‘I wasn’t sure what was happening. And last time, poor Lucky got stomped on and could have been squashed, and I thought you were just going to keep running up the hill. So, you know. I didn’t mean it. Not really. Yes, I did. I’m kidding. I didn’t.’
‘Yeah you did. And you’re right. Sorry. And sorry about last time, too. Really.’
Hendrix stood up again and looked at her properly. Quirky, was his first thought. No girl her age wore Mickey Mouse t-shirts, but she rocked it. And the socks – if that was on purpose, it was pretty epic. She was taller than he remembered, and better looking. Last time she’d taken off so fast he’d barely had a chance to see her, let alone look at her. He thought back to what had happened, and remembered he’d been running backward trying to get a squiz at Stephanie Abay. Boy, had that been the wrong target.
Lucky had moved on, and strained against the lead, seeking new smells. Hendrix and Emily stood there as if they’d been forced together, the only kids at a grown-up BBQ. They stole a quick look at each other, but concentrated on the dog. Emily yanked the lead, pulling Lucky away from the middle of the path.
‘Better go, I s’pose,’ said Emily, dawdling in her turn. ‘Hey, thanks for not jumping on us again.’
‘Yeah,’ said Hendrix. ‘My pleasure. No worries. See ya.’
It was definitely awkward. He fiddled with his watch, pretending to scroll through screens but watched Emily turn to walk away.
Lucky decided she wasn’t going anywhere. She sat, stared up at Hendrix, and used her weight to pull against the lead.
‘Come on, Lucky,’ went Emily. ‘Let’s go.’
The dog resisted at first,
then got to her feet, jumped ahead, then doubled back toward Hendrix. Emily had to pull her back.
‘Puppy. She’s still mad as a cut snake. See ya,’ she said, again. Emily tied her face into a knot, embarrassed about saying goodbye a second time. ‘Loser,’ she hissed at herself, as she turned the corner. Lucky resisted, but Emily dragged her with her.
‘Hey,’ called Hendrix. ‘Does your dog like running? Like, do you run him?’
‘He’s a she,’ said Emily, turning. ‘And no, not really.’
He looked surprised. ‘What dog doesn’t like running?’
‘Lucky loves it, but I can’t run her. I’m not supposed to, anyway.’
He was back in front of her, taking up the sky, re-firing the heater in her chest, again. ‘Every dog runs,’ he said. ‘Why not Lucky?’
‘Oh, gee. It’s a long story,’ Emily said, taking a step back for clean air. ‘It’s not Lucky, it’s me. Doctor’s orders and all that.’
‘Oh, that sucks. Want me to run her up the hill?’ He had his hand out for the lead.
‘Who, Lucky?’
Hendrix smiled again. ‘Yeah, who else?’
Emily over-laughed. ‘It’s not like you’re going to run me up the hill, are you?’ She looked around. Was there a camera somewhere? Was it one of those lame Candid Camera type TV shows? ‘Ah, I dunno. Yeah, I s’pose you can. That might be cool.’
She handed the lead to Hendrix and their fingers brushed. It was the hint of a touch, literally nothing. You could bash into someone in the school corridor and think less of it, and yet, they both noticed.
Hendrix took the lead and nodded. ‘It’s Lucky, right? Come on, Lucky. Come on, girl.’ He gave the lead a yank, helping the dog in the right direction.
Lucky bolted, taking the occasional look behind to Emily, who felt absurdly proud. That was her puppy running up the hill with that boy. He could run. His legs, though thin, were like looking at the muscle chart in a biology class.
After cresting the hill at the halfway point, Hendrix and Lucky disappeared from Emily’s view. Her feelings changed from proud owner of a running dog to a general unease. Did she really just give her puppy to someone else? What if he didn’t come back? What if he took Lucky and kept going? She didn’t even know his name!
It was ridiculous. Of course he would come back.
They were gone too long. Nervousness gave way to a mild state of panic. He should’ve been back already. Emily replayed the conversation in her head. Did he say he was just going to the top of the hill or further? She didn’t know what to do. Where the hell was her dog? Why weren’t they coming back?
The Dog Stomper had run off with Lucky. She pulled her phone out, not sure how it would help. She didn’t even know his name, let alone have his number. The horror of what was unfolding felt like it was turning into something else. A headache, even. She could feel the tightness in the base of her skull and hoped it was just stress.
Emily stood right at the corner of the track, so she could at least see the two paths of the Tan. If he came back down the hill, she’d see him, same if he came from another direction. The overwhelming thought in her gut was that he was definitely running away, with her dog.
She wanted to call the police. She felt sick and stupid and completely exhausted. Emily steadied herself against a tree, almost certain she was about to pass out.
Then she saw him. The boy was charging down the hill with Lucky out front. Emily nearly exploded. Just the sight of them was enough to make her want to cry.
‘Come on, Lucky, come on!’ Her voice was way up in the clouds. If she hadn’t felt love before, Emily knew this must be it. ‘Come on, Lucky.’
When Lucky saw Emily, she looked totally rapt. Emily had never seen her dog like this. Lucky’s tongue was whacking the side of her face, teeth out, smiling.
So was the boy. They looked like they were part of a perfect family in an ad for toothpaste.
‘She loves it,’ he said, barely hanging on to Lucky as they got closer.
Emily laughed. When Lucky was close enough, Emily dropped to her knees and swept her up and hugged her, letting the dog lick her all over. Lucky wriggled like mad, trying to get at Emily, scragging away at her t-shirt, looking for purchase to get closer to Em’s face. ‘Lucky, stop. Stop. Where have you been, Lucky? Where’d you go? Why’d you take so long?’
Hendrix looked surprised. ‘Wasn’t that long, was it, Luck?’ He gave the dog a hearty rub on the back as he returned the lead. ‘She loves running. She was a bit lame on the way up the hill because she kept turning around trying to see you, but coming back, she went off. I had to pull her back, I was running as fast as I could.’
‘I’ve got a horse for a dog,’ said Emily, putting Lucky back on the ground.
‘Not sure about that,’ panted Hendrix.
Emily explained. ‘Horses are always faster on the way home. So Lucky’s like a horse.’
‘Yeah,’ said Hendrix, close to having his breath under control. ‘I suppose she is. So, you walk here much? I’d love to run with her again sometime. Do you want to run, too?’
‘Ah, no,’ said Emily. ‘That is, I really would, but like I said, doctor’s orders and all that.’
‘Hey, everything okay?’ said Hendrix.
‘Yeah, why?’ Emily felt good. She felt fantastic, actually.
‘Oh, nothing. It’s just …’ Hendrix wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say. ‘… are you crying?’
One tear had fallen over the lip of her eye and it looked like others might follow.
The girl laughed again, and wiped at her eye with the tips of her fingers. She wasn’t wearing nail polish. Hendrix was surprised he noticed.
‘I thought you’d run off with Lucky,’ she said. ‘It’s so stupid, but I’m glad you’re back. Better ring the cops and tell them to stop looking for ya.’
He let go an easy chuckle. ‘You did not! I wouldn’t run off with your dog.’
Emily sniffed and wiped her eyes again. Of course he wouldn’t run off with her. Look at him. He wasn’t the type.
‘But seriously, can I run with her again?’ he said. ‘Just for fun. I haven’t got a dog.’
‘That’s weird,’ laughed Emily. ‘You want to run my dog? Like, you and Lucky go on a date or something?’
Hendrix put his hands up in surrender. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. It’s kind of weird. Like, we could go on a run, then catch a movie. Me and Lucky, back row. Popcorn. What do you say, Lucky?’
He didn’t know where the confidence came from, but it was good. This wasn’t the awkward snippets and bruising hindsight that followed most of his other encounters with girls.
Emily folded her arms across her chest. ‘I’m pretty sure she’s not your type, mate. But then, there is a Labradoodle down the road with hair like yours, so who knows.’ She raised her eyebrows a couple of times. He was smart, funny. Tall and long and lean and wow. This boy was definitely not how she remembered him.
‘Bad news, though,’ she said. ‘They’re not going to let you take her into the movies, anyway.’ Me, on the other hand, you could take me!
Hendrix was thinking the same thing.
Emily nodded toward Lucky who was lying on her guts, panting like mad. ‘Do you really want to run with her again? Like, you can if you want, she looks like she’s into it.’
Hendrix bent down and patted Lucky. ‘Yeah. That’s what I was going to say. It’d be fun. When do you come to the Tan?’
Later this afternoon? Tonight? Tomorrow? thought Emily. ‘Whenever,’ she said, hoping she wasn’t giggling. ‘You?’
‘Tuesdays,’ said Hendrix. ‘I train Tuesdays with another guy. Then when we’re finished, I come back by myself for a bit extra. So like, same time as this?’
‘Next week?’
He checked his watch. ‘You bet. You’d better be ready, Lucky.’ Should’ve said tomorrow. Too keen? Too keen. Be cool. It’s good. All good. He had some work to do on controlling his inner voice. ‘Next Tuesday. A
bout five? That’d be good.’
She nodded. It was on. Hendrix turned and started up the hill, Emily rounded the corner.
‘Hey,’ he called out, turning again and heading back toward her.
Emily stuck her head out around the fence, cartoon style. ‘Hey what?’
‘What’s your name?’
‘It’s Emily.’
‘Cool. Nice name,’ he said. Relax. ‘I’m Drix. Tuesday. Don’t forget to bring Lucky.’
‘Drinks? Your name is Drinks?’ She wondered if the day could get any wilder.
‘Drix. Short for Hendrix.’
‘As in the guitarist?’
‘It’s embarrassing, but yes. I think Lennon and Jagger were taken.’
His wave lingered, but Lucky was off already, dragging Emily with her.
Hendrix headed back up Anderson Street. It was like someone had swapped his hypoxic mask for pure oxygen. He felt amazing. It wasn’t the first time he’d wished for a normal name. Jess or Mitch or Jasper.
Emily stopped just around the corner and counted to five before sneaking another look up the hill.
‘Hendrix,’ she said to Lucky with a raised eyebrow. ‘Rock ’n’ frickin roll!’
Form. Posture. Cadence. Breath. Holy shit, what was that about?
A bunch of Grammar girls came down Anderson Street but Hendrix barely registered them. He was motoring. Not just running fast, but flying: light and fresh, and kicking himself as he ran the conversation with Emily through his mind. He should have said he’d run anywhere, anytime. Wherever she wanted to go, he’d get there. Hendrix’d run to Preston if that was the option. To Cheltenham or Dandenong or Frankston, it didn’t much matter, he’d find a way.
He liked her name, too. And how cool was Lucky? Luckydog. Lucky Hendrix. Emily and Hendrix.
Maybe there was a chance.
She’d said, ‘Yeah, I’ll meet you here next week and let you run with my dog.’ If you had a boyfriend you’d never agree to that. It’d be weird. And mean. And she didn’t look close to mean. She was the opposite – she had to be a softy, almost crying because she thought Lucky was gone. Then the happy tears when they got back.