by Andrew Daddo
‘Have you rung the girls? Do you want to see them tonight?’
‘Nope. Tomorrow night, I think. There’s a gathering, should be okay. I’m going to bed.’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Tired. Night.’
After she’d gone, Anna told Siss to go and tuck her sister in.
‘She alright?’ said Eddy. ‘With the treatment and everything? She going to be okay?’
‘Dunno,’ said Anna without looking up. ‘Bloody hope so.’
Hendrix sat at the kitchen table feeling utterly abandoned. No phone, no outside contact, just him and his father who’d taken a turn for the extremely serious. He couldn’t wait to get to school and borrow someone’s mobile to call Emily. He thought about walking to the shops but couldn’t remember if there was a phone box there. The afternoon’s training had been a ridiculously long treadmill trudge that felt like it’d never end. He couldn’t seem to find his rhythm, constantly aggravating his dad who sat there the whole time watching the stats roll by on his iPad.
‘Let’s go,’ went Dad. ‘Lift, will ya?’
The problem for Hendrix was he was running at the right speed but not hitting the right marks. His work-rate was too high for the pace he was running. He’d either gone backward by having the two days off or there was another issue.
‘Are you sick, Drix?’
Hendrix didn’t answer because he knew he wasn’t sick. He was pissed off. He wanted his phone and he wanted to talk to Emily; it was a very simple equation. When the session ended, he showered and went in for dinner.
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, interrupted only by kitchen sounds: cutlery clanging together, glasses being filled, plates hitting the table a little too hard. Hendrix stopped the racket when he said, ‘Can I please have my phone?’
‘Not yet. Show me you can be better and I can reward you, Hendrix. A start would be showing me you give a shit.’
‘Of course I give a shit,’ Hendrix barked. He didn’t eat, but pushed his food around his plate. ‘How could you think I don’t care?’
But his father wouldn’t let up. ‘Hmmm, let me think, this may take a while. Um. No, now I remember. You lied to me about going on that school camp. You continue to wag training sessions to sneak off with your girlfriend who’s clearly a good influence on you. Yep. Really committed, that’s crystal clear.’
Hendrix scoffed, his internal thermometer on the rise. ‘Leave Emily out of it.’
‘Leave her out of it? What are you talking about? She’s at the epicentre of everything that’s going wrong. You’ve changed, Hendrix. Two months ago, or one month, you had your future by the short and curlies. Now? Look at you. You piss off from training, you lie, you don’t say what you’re doing or where you’re going.’
Hendrix jumped in. ‘And we’re so different, Dad? Where were you the other night? You pissed off, you didn’t answer your phone, you didn’t even say what you were doing. I didn’t even know where you were.’
His dad had him. ‘And did you like that feeling?’
‘No,’ Hendrix bawled.
‘Well, that’s how I felt when you lied to me. Were you worried? Did you think something had happened? Something bad? That you were never going to see me again, and if you did, it’d be in a box or the morgue or somewhere like that? Huh? Is that the kind of feeling you had, because that’s what I was thinking when you fucked off for the night.’
Veins pulsed across his forehead and at the sides of his neck, spit flew from his mouth.
Hendrix was gobsmacked. It was ridiculous, and he said so. ‘But you knew where I was. I wasn’t dead, I wasn’t in danger. I was with Emily. For a night. One night. You knew I was okay. How is it the same as what you did? I’m meant to do dumb shit, you’re an adult.’
His dad nearly levitated. ‘How dare you assume you know how I feel. You don’t know anything, especially what’s good for you. Check your attitude, do the work. Simple as that. You win, we all win. You lose, you’ll be a loser forever.’ He picked up his plate and went to the kitchen.
‘I want my phone.’
‘Win the title, I’ll get you all the phones you want.’ Then he walked out. ‘Six a.m. Sharp,’ he barked over his shoulder. ‘Quick, intensive session. Don’t be late.’
Hendrix was so pissed he nearly cried. Lying on top of his sheets, he fought for clear air in his brain. Hendrix figured he could sneak into his father’s room when he was asleep and take his phone, or maybe he could go to the car and try dialling from there. It might work, his dad’s phone might be within range.
Hendrix thought about lots of things he could do. He could use a public phone at some shops, but it was so late he knew that’d piss Anna off. He could go to Emily’s place in South Melbourne and lob pebbles at her window. He could run away for real. Hendrix wanted to run.
He thought about going to the gym and punching out a session. He thought about Emily, about getting back at his father, and what it might be like to have a mum like Anna who was caring and friendly and understanding. Then his mind jumped to his own mum and he tried to conjure a memory that’d stick amongst the muck that was jumbling his brain.
Somewhere between retribution and running away, Hendrix got weary and flaked out.
He woke up angry but couldn’t remember why. Reaching for his phone and not finding it on the bedside table brought everything back. It was very dark and very quiet but the words in his head were booming, Quit! He’d never seriously considered giving it away. He thought about getting up, walking to his father’s bedroom and saying from the doorway that he was done, it was over, he wasn’t interested anymore.
He went through the whole conversation in his head. ‘It’s your dream, Dad. Not mine. I don’t actually care anymore. I really couldn’t give a shit about running.’ And he could see his father trembling with rage, which was what he wanted. He wanted to see the blood boil up that bald head of his and weep out his eyes.
Emily was right about finding a balance. Maybe he should tell his dad about that, too. In a normal argument his father would watch him, listen, wait for the right words to come, but this time he’d be so pissed off he’d explode. All the work I’ve done! All the sacrifices I’ve made. For you. For you! And you want to throw it away on a girl?
Hendrix’d be ready for it because this had been coming since he met Emily. His father had never approved and he’d barely invested a moment in her. He probably still thought she was a junkie, even though Hendrix had told him the truth. Or had he told him? Hendrix wasn’t so sure. It’d never actually come up, because all they talked about was fucking running.
Yeah, well, continued the rant in Hendrix’s head. Thanks to you, we’ll never know how good I could have been, will we? You tried running but you weren’t good enough, I didn’t try and could’ve been. Feel better now? Was it worth it? Being a monster? Being a fucking tyrant? All you had to do was give me my phone. Good one, Dad. Well played. You beauty!
Hendrix knew he’d be gobsmacked. He’d love it if his father would apologise, cough up the phone and say something stupid like, ‘Come ’ere, let’s hug it out.’ And on they’d go.
Hendrix knew it couldn’t work out that way.
He reached for his shorts and runners. As soon as the fabric of the t-shirt fell against his skin he felt slightly better. He wasn’t going to do any of that stuff. He was going to get up, have a piss, a bite to eat, and train like he had for a thousand yesterdays. But this time he’d train harder. He’d show his dad that he was better than he thought he was, and certainly better than him. When it came to the State finals he wouldn’t just win, he’d obliterate. By the time the Nationals came around, he would be the talk of the carnival before they’d even got there. You should see this kid. Sonic, he is! Who is he? Why haven’t we heard of him? Where’s he from?
Hendrix kept it civil. ‘Hey, Dad.’
‘G’day, Drix. Juice?’
‘Yep.’
‘Sleep well?’
‘Slept better,’ said Hendrix.
>
His father smiled. ‘Snoring for Australia when I checked in on you.’
Hendrix nodded, wondering if his dad was like a goldfish, remembering nothing but the loop of the bowl he was currently swimming: he showed no sign they’d had a disagreement the night before. Hendrix wanted to ask if there’d been any messages on his phone, but resisted. A good, compliant boy.
‘Nearly six, eh?’ Dad muttered. ‘Let’s get serious.’
Rainey and Tess arrived on their bikes to pick up Emily.
There were the predictable screams and OMGs, and as hard as they tried to drag her out the front door, Anna pushed back, applying the brakes.
She wanted to savour the moment and the excitement of big kids in the house again. Besides, Siss was there, feeding off the energy of the three older girls and she’d missed enough already. The gossip would flow and Siss knew all the players.
But really, Anna wanted to make sure they didn’t go anywhere until they’d settled down a bit. The more she thought about Em going out for a night with them, the more she worried. Treatment was so close, it seemed kind of nuts to risk the applecart now.
Emily had heard her parents talking the night before, once the house was still. They’d been careful to whisper, but given the walls were so thin, there wasn’t much she didn’t hear. Mum wanted to pull back on her big idea for a night out with her friends, but her dad was for it.
‘We’ve got to give Em her head, Spanner. She’s not a captive.’
Mum had protested. ‘But what if something happens? Why can’t they have their catch-up here? We can stay out of the way. And if she’s here, we can help.’
‘We can’t help,’ he’d said.
‘What do you mean, we can’t help?’ She couldn’t whisper that.
‘Dr Harrington was pretty clear, I thought. If something’s going to happen, and God forbid, there’s a chance it’ll all be too quick to do much of anything. This thing’s not going to slowly crush her brain; something’s going to peel off or break off or whatever and that’ll cause a clot. There’s no wrapping her up in cottonwool and stopping it. Dr Harrington said there’s a random element at play. Fuck, it could happen now and we’d know nothing about it until morning. She’s a good girl. She’s not going to do anything stupid. Let’s give her a night. She’s got to live, Spanner. You said it yourself a hundred times. We’ve got to let her live.’
If there was something after that, Emily missed it.
It was too much. She could hear from her dad’s voice he was upset. She could hear the rustle of sheets as they moved in bed and imagined them comforting each other. She felt sick they had to go through any of this. It was probably worse for them than for her. At least she was in it. Her family had to watch on like a crowd behind a barrier. They could barrack and yell and care as much as they wanted, but there was nothing any of them could do. It was shit; her mum had to be running out of tears.
Emily waited, hoping for sleep, which wouldn’t come. Her mind was a mush of Hendrix and backless hospital gowns and her own soon-to-be-bald head. It felt so shallow and so important at the same time. In the end she gave in, got up and went to her parent’s bedroom. Her mum was asleep, her head in the crook of her dad’s arm. He put his free hand up in a country salute.
‘Shove over,’ Emily said to him. ‘Can’t sleep. I’m coming in.’ She burrowed in, one arm reaching over to her mum.
The three of them stayed like that to morning.
That’s when they had the talk about the rules for going out with the girls. No drinking. No drugs. No smoking, especially not dope. ‘Home early. Nine o’clock,’ said her mum.
‘Mum,’ went Emily. ‘I’m not a baby.’
‘You are to me,’ she said. Emily heard the words catch in her throat.
‘See ya, then,’ said Mum. She hung back as if it was easy to let Emily go, but pointed at her. A knowing nod, Be careful my girl. ‘And you’ll call, right? At the hint of anything, you’ll call?’
Rainey and Tess looked at each other, Emily rolled her eyes dramatically. She skulked across the room to her mother and gave her a hug like it was a duty, but she pulled her close and whispered in her ear, ‘Yes, Mum. God, I love you.’
It wasn’t much of a gathering, but it was enough. The usual suspects were there. Toby Eastley hadn’t stopped growing and was pissed already.
‘Emilyyyyyy,’ he roared when she walked in.
‘Fuck off her, Toby,’ went Rainey. ‘She’s got a real boyfriend, now.’
‘Have ya?’ he bellowed. ‘Has he got one of these?’ And he reached down, getting two handfuls of his inner thigh through his jeans. It was meant to look like a dick but he just looked pissed and pretty funny.
‘Put it away, will ya,’ said Emily. ‘And his is bigger than that!’
‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘Hey. Good to see yers, Em. You look pretty good for a city chick.’
‘You look pretty good yourself, Tob. For a bogan.’
He puckered up and frowned, then started headbanging. ‘Me a bogan?’ he laughed. ‘Not farkin’ likely.’
Pretty much everyone went straight to Emily when they arrived, excited and interested in what she’d been up to. ‘How’s the big smoke? What are the boys like? Got a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Is school shit, like it is here? What’s the weed like, bet it’s not as good as ours?’ Normal stuff. And as much as they asked about being in Melbourne, Emily tried to steer the conversation back to Benalla.
The funny thing about being away was that she wanted to know what she’d missed, not what everyone else was missing. Weirdly, no one really listened to what she said, anyway. Well, they did. Just not for long. She could have said all sorts of shit – that she’d been accepted to university two years early, or she was a professional jockey or she was on Australia’s Next Top Model – and no one would have noticed because when she stopped talking, they nodded, went wow, and talked about what was going on in Benalla. And it was all the same sort of stuff. Who got with who, who spewed on who, why Thingo’s a dickhead, and all the stuff that used to seem so important. Even Rainey and Tess seemed to drift off after a while.
Emily got up and went to the toilet. Just about everyone was on the darts, it was smoky and she’d started thinking about Monday and treatment and that a catch-up like this might not have been the best idea. She’d been looking forward to getting into it, sneaking a few drinks, getting a bit wobbly. Emily wanted a taste of normal; doing the stuff she wasn’t meant to do in a final fling before the pain started, but she wavered. After going to the toilet, she loitered at the back door and watched for a bit.
The same people with their aimless local chatter meandering to the point and taking forever to get there. Rainey was doing shots with Micky G, Tess was on the back end of a goon bag and looking around like it was the best thing in the world. And to her it was. Emily could see it, clear as mud. She checked her phone and managed a quick scroll through some pictures of Hendrix. Toby came up to her, all bleary. She was sure he was going to try and stick his tongue down her throat and had her hands up to stop him before he’d even started.
‘What’s that for?’ he said.
‘A bit of protection, Tobs. Just saying.’
‘Nah, you’re right, Em. Just coming to say G’day. See how y’are.’
‘Yeah, good, Tob. How are you?’
‘Yeah, na. Alright. Yeah, but how are ya? How’s the thing in your head? Is it like having a twin or something?’ The way he squinted made it look like he was having trouble seeing, or in some kind of pain. ‘We all know about it, I just … We don’t … You know. We don’t know how to talk about it. But you’re right, aren’t ya? You’re going to be right.’
Emily nodded. Maybe that was the problem and she hadn’t seen it. No one knew what to say, so they didn’t say anything. Instead, they just went on with what they knew, which was living around here.
Toby did his best. ‘Cos, you’re tough, right? You’re one of the toughest chicks going around. No question.’ He pu
lled on his ciggie. ‘So, you’re good?’
‘Yeah, I’m good, Tob. It’ll be fine.’
‘Knew it,’ he said, winking. ‘You’ll always be fine, cos you are fine.’ He popped the top off his stubby and looked around.
Emily got what he meant, he was okay. ‘How are you, anyway, Toby? You alright? You playing footy this year? Did you play cricket? I can’t remember.’
She had her phone out and, while talking to Toby, was sending a text to her mum to come pick her up.
‘Nah. I’ll play footy. I’m pretty shit, but, so maybe not. Might have a year off, concentrate on other stuff. You don’t really reckon I’m a bogan, do you?’
‘Fuck, yes,’ laughed Emily. It was the first decent cack she’d had all night. ‘But you’re my favourite bogan.’ Her phone vibrated in her hand. ‘Hey, I’ve got to go. Text from Mum. She reckons that’s enough for me and is going to meet me out the front.’
‘How long are you here for?’
‘A few weeks, I reckon.’
‘Let’s catch up then,’ he said, winking again. It was a new thing for him, and must have worked at least once because he kept doing it.
‘I’d like that,’ said Emily, backing away toward the door.
She made it out unnoticed and sat on a white upturned half tyre marking the border between the front yard and nature strip. There was a bunch of them lined up in a row, and it made her think of the Loch Ness Monster. It was beautiful in the dark; stars from one side of the night to the other. She took a photo but it was shit. It didn’t stop her sending it to Hendrix. She wanted to talk to him so much. Anna had told her what his father had said, how he was literally off the dial until after the championships. He’d said Hendrix had one genuine opportunity to realise his dream, and that distractions, even great ones like Emily, could turn disastrous.
‘Just a bit of help’ was all he was asking for. She sent Hendrix a text saying she missed him. He might get hold of his phone and send one back.