by Andrew Daddo
Emily took a step forward. ‘Call him. Just tell him the truth. My mum was basically fine.’
But Hendrix kept the distance between them. He paced back and forth, hand to head. ‘It’s a bit late for the truth, Emily. We’ve trained for years for this. You don’t understand. How could you? You don’t even play sports.’
‘And that has exactly what to do with understanding anything? Jesus.’ Emily spun sharply and started back for the tent.
My mouth, he thought. My big, fat mouth. It wasn’t even close to what he’d meant. Emily couldn’t understand the training and the work and what it meant to his dad. Hendrix knew he’d be shit without his old man riding him, and they were a team. Lying was about the worst thing he could do to him. He wanted to stick his fingers down his throat and get rid of the McDonald’s. His dad would know what he’d done. His dad always knew everything.
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Hendrix said, chasing after her.
‘Like what?’
‘Like how you took it. I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘And how did I take it?’ She hadn’t let up, walking briskly in the dark toward the edge of the campground.
It felt like a riddle. He didn’t even know what he’d meant by saying it. It was just words.
‘I panicked,’ he called after her. ‘I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just panicked.’
She stopped, Hendrix waited for the blast. When Emily turned, it was slowly, her face hard to read in the low light. When she spoke it was almost a whisper. ‘Just make the call. Man up, face your father. It’s a moment in time, Hendrix. It will pass, and as shit as it might be, it will be okay.’ She stepped forward, taking his hand. ‘This is our moment, and it’s going to pass, too.’
‘I’m not ringing him. If he knows everything already, it won’t help, he’ll just go nuts and make me feel guilty. Or worse, he’ll come and get me. He would, you know. He’d drive down here and get us. That’s why I left my phone at home, so there’s literally no chance of tracing us.’
‘Call him,’ she said, walking backward toward the phone booth, gently pulling him by the hand. ‘He hasn’t got a clue where we are, so we’re safe.’ Hendrix resisted. ‘Just say you’re okay, Hendrix. I’m pretty sure it’s all parents really care about.’
‘If he kills me, promise to say something nice at my funeral.’
She laughed because it was ridiculous. And she knew if she died, she’d want him to do the same thing.
Hendrix fumbled a couple of coins into the slot and made the call to his father. He picked up on the first ring. Emily could only hear Hendrix’s side of the conversation, but his contorted face told the story.
‘Dad,’ started Hendrix, but his father cut him off sharply.
You’re fine, mouthed Emily. You’re fiiiine.
‘Dad,’ Hendrix tried again. ‘I’m fine, Dad. We’re fine. I’m coming straight home tomorrow.’ He shook his head.
Emily squeezed into the old glass phone box with him, a warm comfort.
‘I’m going to run out of money, Dad. Sorry, Dad. Dad?’
If the tone from the other end had been a storm it would have wiped out a town. Emily reached around Hendrix’s waist to hug him.
‘See ya, Dad.’ And with that, he put the receiver down. His father was still wailing, ‘Where are you?!’
‘That went well.’ Hendrix nodded. ‘I feel better, though. At least it’s out in the open.’
‘Yep,’ she said. ‘We still got marshmallows?’
That did make Hendrix laugh. ‘Lovely little balls of fat and sugar to make us feel better.’
They knocked off the rest of the pack, cooking some, inhaling others. When they were done, Hendrix tossed the plastic packet into the fire, sending acrid smoke to the stars.
Emily said, ‘Bedtime’, before unzipping the tent and crawling inside.
‘Yes,’ said Hendrix. ‘I believe it is bedtime.’
‘You better drown that fire,’ said Emily without sticking her head out. She sounded like she was doing something. Hendrix could only imagine what. He pissed on the fire, creating a steaming ash cloud, then picked up handfuls of sand to put it out properly. Now his hands were sandy. By the time he got back from washing them, things were very quiet. The flap to the tent was closed, no light came from inside, he had no phone or torch to light the way. He fumbled for the zipper, opened the flap far enough to squeeze through and left his thongs outside.
‘Who dat in ma tent?’ Emily did a fair rendition of some hillbilly.
‘Where are ya?’ he said, feeling around with his hands. It was beyond dark.
‘Here,’ she whispered.
Hendrix took his pants off, but left his undies and t-shirt on.
‘You getting in?’ said Emily. ‘Or are you sleeping on top all night?’
When they’d set up the tent, they’d opened the two sleeping bags all the way, one on the bottom, the other on the top. He patted his hands about looking for the edge, finding some part of Emily’s anatomy that he wasn’t sure of.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Get in here!’ she whispered. ‘It’s freezing.’
He got under and lay on his back looking up. He didn’t move, barely breathed. Emily was inches away. What if she was naked? What if she wasn’t?
She leaned over, fumbling her face forward, her mouth eventually finding his. Not their best kiss. They both rolled onto their sides to face each other. He could feel that Emily was also in a t-shirt, but he wasn’t game to venture further. After kissing for a while she backed off a bit and asked if he liked camping.
‘Well, yeah,’ he said. ‘I like this camping.’
‘Did you bring a thing?’ she said very quietly.
‘Um, yeah,’ he whispered back. It had been easier than he’d thought to get hold of them. Initially he went to the chemist, but the guy behind the counter had asked if he could help with anything as soon as Hendrix stepped into the store. Hendrix ran the colour spectrum to purple and said no. From there it was to Woollies where he found them between the toothpaste and the shavers. By going to the self-checkout, Hendrix managed to avoid any contact with another person.
‘I told Mum I’d ask, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, no. All good.’ Hendrix had still barely moved, slightly paralysed by the conversation. He didn’t think they’d talk about it. It’d just happen, they’d go wow, it’d be kind of awkward but great and once it was done they could do it again.
Emily sat up. ‘Hey, so you know I’m like, damaged goods right?’
Hendrix leapt to her defence. ‘What do you mean? No, you’re not. I don’t care if you’ve done it before.’
Emily drew her legs up to her chest. ‘Oh wow, it’s not that. This is going really well, isn’t it?’ She tried to throw some light on the shade but missed.
‘What?’ Hendrix tried again. ‘What is it?’
Emily hugged her knees, and put her head down. After the longest time, she said, ‘You know how I got that headache?’
He sat up as well. ‘Yeah?’
‘Well, that wasn’t the only one. But it was definitely the worst.’
Hendrix rubbed her back, the way he’d done at the hospital. ‘But you’ve always said they were no big deal. Just migraines, everyone gets them. That doesn’t exactly taint you. How long have you been having them?’
‘Ages. The reason we came to Melbourne in the first place was so the doctor could keep an eye on me. If he could see what was happening while I was getting the headache, he thought they’d be able to work out exactly what was going on, you know?’
Hendrix rubbed a little harder. ‘Sort of, I think. But you’re fine now.’
She knew she should have said all of this earlier. ‘Oh, Hendrix, I wish. It’s so, so far from fine. I lied, and I don’t want to lie to you anymore. They’re not actually migraines. I’ve got a tumour. A meningioma. It’s actually called en plaque meningioma – sounds like a French meal, doesn’t it? It’s a growth at the bas
e of my skull, and it’s wrapped around my spine. Anywhere else, and the doctor would just cut it out. The doctor’s worried that it’s going to haemorrhage, you know? Start leaking shit, and if that happens, there’s a chance there’ll be a clot to my brain and God knows what happens then. It’s like there’s a bomb in my head on a timer, only no one can find the controls.’
He could feel her crying more than hear it.
‘I’m so fucking scared. I pretend to be strong and that everything’ll be okay because everyone else is shitting themselves. Mum can barely look at me without crying. She’s always asking how I am in case today’s the day my head’s going to blow up and I’m gonna die.’
‘You’re not going to die, Emily. That’s a stupid thing to say.’
‘Is it, though?’
She was bawling now. Heavy sobs making it hard to understand what she was saying.
‘I’m tainted. I didn’t want to tell you because I can’t stand the thought of you worrying as well. What if you don’t like me because I’ve got this thing? Why would anyone stick around for that?’
Hendrix did his best to comfort her, moving closer, putting one arm around her, then two.
‘Shhhhh,’ he went. ‘Shhhhhhh. It’s a bit late for that, Em. I’m in too deep, already. Now, if you didn’t like AC/ DC, that might be a problem.’ He was thankful to hear her laugh. ‘Shhhhhh. They’ll fix it, Em.’
‘What if they can’t,’ she sobbed.
‘Yeah, but they will be able to. It’s a matter of time ’til they figure it out, right?’ He could hear how anxious he sounded; his voice was way up, like he’d been caught in a lie.
‘I’m so scared,’ she said again. ‘What if it grows?’
‘And what if it doesn’t,’ he whispered. ‘What if it shrinks? It’s gonna shrink. Shhhh. Shhhhh.’
Emily leaned into him, letting Hendrix hold her together as she fell apart.
That’s how they stayed for ages. Hendrix cradled her as Emily let her defences flop. He cooed gently to her, rubbing her back, just as his mum had done to him whenever he’d been upset.
When Emily was almost quiet, he gently rolled her sideways onto the sleeping bag. She neither helped nor resisted. She faced away from Hendrix, letting him spoon in behind her. Her breathing was better, still short, the occasional gasp as tears or fear caught in her throat.
‘Breathe,’ he said. ‘Just breathe.’ Tilting her head back slightly, he rubbed her forehead. ‘Breeeathe. You’ve got to breathe out the fear, Em. Fear is shit. Breathe out the negative and bring in the fresh, clean oxygen.’ He pulled in a couple of long slow breaths through his nose and let them go from his mouth. ‘That’s it. Imagine there’s a clear blue sky above us. A clean blue sky full of beautiful, perfect oxygen. That’s the power, Em. That’s where it is. Breathe out the bad, bring in the new. Just breathe it in. There’s possibility in it. And power and freedom and clarity. Out with the fear, in with the possibility. That’s it. Long, slow breaths.’ He kept rubbing her forehead. ‘Shhhhhh. Here it comes. Possibility. With possibility comes probability. Shhhhh. Good girl, Em. That’s it. You’re my good girl.’
She was asleep. Her breathing long and slow and heavy. He mouthed the words first, but then whispered as softly as he could, ‘I love you, Emily.’
He woke to birdsong. Magpies, maybe, but the sound was different to any he’d heard before. He had no clue where he was. Every morning for as long as he could remember, Hendrix woke to the same thing. A life-sized cut-out of Usain Bolt, his training chart and various post-it notes of inspiration.
With an excited rush, he remembered. But Emily was gone.
He got up, pulled his on his pants and did his best to straighten himself, fully expecting to find her outside the tent.
She wasn’t there. Emily didn’t answer when he called to her from outside the toilet block, she wasn’t in the phone booth or the office or anywhere. He went back to the tent to check again, but she was definitely gone. Her backpack, too.
‘What the fuck?’ he went. ‘Where’d you go? Why?’
He couldn’t believe it. Even though nothing had happened, last night had been the best night of his life.
He was somewhere between gutted and totally confused. What had he done to stuff it up? Almost as bad, in the process of ruining things with Emily, he’d totally buggered things with his dad. ‘Fuuuuck,’ he groaned.
Get home, he thought. Get to the bus stop, find her there. Or at the station in Frankston. Or on the train. Get moving, square things away. With Dad, and with Emily.
It took no time to empty the tent, stuffing the sleeping bags into their sacks and putting them in his backpack. Working feverishly, he collapsed the poles and set about the pegs.
‘Hey! What are you doing?’ It was Emily, her bag on her back, coming out of the bushes.
‘Oh my God. I thought you’d left or I’d done something, I dunno. You weren’t here, I thought you must have gone home. Jesus, I was so worried. Where did you go?’ Hendrix was talking quickly; he’d never felt relief like it.
‘You were worried about me? Oh, that’s nice, Hendrix. I went to get you breakfast,’ she laughed, sitting on a stump and emptying her bag. ‘There’s no way I’d leave, not like that. I got you the breakfast of champions.’
She dumped her bag on the ground and started pulling stuff out. ‘Croissants. OJ. Bananas. Yoghurt. You said you were feeling rotten after the McDonald’s, so I thought you might need some good food. Healthy. What are you doing to the tent?’
Again, he felt so out of his depth. ‘Packing up. Then I was coming after you. Or going home. Both, actually. I really thought you’d gone.’
‘Still here,’ she said. ‘Not going anywhere.’ As Hendrix sat down on the stump next to her, she leaned over and kissed him. ‘Good morning.’
‘And good morning to you, too. I feel so stupid.’
They ate the croissants and drank the OJ.
‘Thanks, this is perfect. Best breakfast ever,’ he managed through a mouthful.
Emily nodded. ‘By the way, what did you do to me last night?’
He was surprised. ‘I didn’t do anything.’
She stared him down. ‘You did. You know you did.’ Hendrix sat up straight and stared into her eyes, mortified at the thought he’d done anything wrong. ‘I swear to God, Em. I didn’t do anything. You went to sleep, I did, too. I didn’t touch you, I promise.’
‘But before I went to sleep.’ She turned on her stump to face him, taking his hand, soothing him. ‘All that stuff you were saying. Rubbing my head and my shoulders. Breathe out the negative, breathe in the possibility.’
‘Oh, that.’
‘Yes, that. Oh my God. It was amazing. It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in like, forever. It was like you hypnotised me.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t do anything.’
‘Well, you kind of did.’ She turned to the tent. ‘And I left something in there. You’re going to have to put it up again.’
Hendrix shook his head. ‘Nah, it was empty. Definitely,
I double-checked.’
Emily smiled. ‘Nup. Definitely left it in there. Give us a hand.’ He started to protest but Emily shook him off, pointing at the poles. ‘Put ’em up.’
‘Told ya,’ said Hendrix, sticking his head in the tent once it was up again. ‘Empty.’
‘Have a proper look, you goose,’ she said, pushing him all the way into the tent. She crawled in beside him and started looking around for something.
‘Empty,’ he said again with a bit of cheek. ‘Nothing but memories.’
Emily pushed him over, and once he’d rolled onto his back she started kissing him. Hendrix didn’t resist. ‘So, how’d it go?’ she said, sliding a hand under his t-shirt. ‘Breathe in the possibility? Is that how it went?’
They joked around, ‘Did you breathe out? Was that a negative?’ until things got serious.
She sat up, her hands holding his as if she was trying to pin him down. ‘Oh, and u
m …’ Emily smiled. ‘I love you, too.’
And then there wasn’t much talking at all.
Much later, as they rolled the air out of the tent to get it into the bag, Hendrix turned to Emily and said, ‘Hey, did you find what you were looking for in the tent?’
‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Sure did. Got it, and I’ll cherish it forever. But I lost something in there, too. Same as you, I reckon. It’s yours now. For always.’
On the train back to Melbourne, the two of them were loved up, but with a growing sense of dread they counted the stops to home. Hendrix knew he was rumbling toward a brawl and guessed his father would try to put a stop to Emily once they got home. He’d be grounded at the very least. Two weeks out from State titles and he’d be lucky to eek out a fart without being told what was right or wrong about it. ‘Fart’s not in the schedule ’til three-thirty, bucko.’ He had to win the States and go on from there. Australian selection, World Juniors titles, Olympics; the old future looked brutal because it meant nothing compared to Emily. He pulled her in even tighter. Four stops to town. Em had called her mum from a pay phone in Frankston to say they were on the 1.30 train. She’d be at the station, ready to take Emily home.
Four stops to goodbye.
‘Shall we just piss off, do you reckon? Run away? We’ve got the tent, two sleeping bags. I could run races against people for money. You know, let them win the first race by stacks. Say I wasn’t warmed up, then just lose the second. Load it all onto the third race and bring it home.’
‘Yeah,’ went Emily. ‘I could be your spruiker. “Roll up, roll up. Give the kid a chance, no one else will!”’
‘Seriously, we could get off a stop early. Just piss off.’
Emily hugged him tighter. ‘Or we could get off in the city and trust everything’ll be fine. It will. You’ll see. You’re not going to get grounded. Mum will talk to your dad. It’s not like you can train all the time, it’s ridiculous. And when you need to let a little pressure off, I’ll be there.’