by Andrew Daddo
For the first time, Hendrix realised there was more than one right way to proceed. It wasn’t a matter of a high road, low road alternative to the same destination; this was his sliding doors moment.
After checking to make sure the track was clear he jumped from the platform.
Emily was balled up in Nan’s crocheted blanket; it did nothing to stop her feeling a thousand years old. She knew her mum was worried the radiation was bringing her undone. She would have rather left her at home in bed and picked up Hendrix herself from the station. But Astrid had blown the secret and there was literally no way Emily was going to miss this moment.
Emily had the visor down, looking at herself in the mirror. She was sure most of her hair had fallen out, even though it hadn’t. ‘My eyebrows, Mum. He’s going to think I’m disgusting.’
‘They’re the last thing he’s going to be looking at, but if you must.’
Her mum tried not to sound overly cheery as she fished through her bag looking for her eyebrow pencil. She passed the pencil over without saying ‘less being more’. They were early. Lots of time to sit and think and talk. ‘Shall we go in?’
‘Not straightaway, Mum. You didn’t ring his dad, did you?’
Anna turned the radio down. ‘Well, no. But Paul asked me to call if I see Hendrix, and I said I would. It’s his dad, Em. He’ll be worried sick.’
‘You haven’t told him he’s coming here, though?’
‘At the time, I didn’t know he was coming here. So no. But you know I have to call him.’
Emily went through the radio stations, looking for something good.
‘I don’t know if I feel nervous or shit or both. I feel like I’m gonna throw up … Oh crap, I am,’ she said, opening the car door.
She leaned all the way out as her body hacked up some of her insides. Anna rubbed her back and cooed to her gently.
‘Jesus,’ she said, wiping the spit from her mouth. ‘Got any chewy? I’m gonna stink of spew, then he’ll really think I’m disgusting. Almost no eyebrows and reeking of vom. Who’d run away from home for this?’
‘Let’s buy some, eh?’ went her mum, handing over a mint. ‘I might move the car, too. A fresh, spewless spot?’
The boom gates started dinging down the line. The train was coming.
‘Now I’m just plain nervous,’ went Emily. ‘Holy shit! Stay here, I’ll get him.’ She half ran to the station platform, her heart doing cartwheels in her stomach. She felt woozy. Not sure where to stand or even how. She ripped the rug off her shoulders as the train came in and threw it on the bench like it wasn’t hers. I hope he remembered to swap trains, she thought. I’ve done that.
The big diesel pulled up with just a few carriages behind. The doors opened together in a rush. If it was her, she’d be first off. She’d hit the platform running and wouldn’t stop until her arms were around him, then she’d never let go. But he’s a boy, she told herself. He’ll hang out in the last carriage like it was the back row of the bus. So that’s where she watched.
But she was wrong about Hendrix.
He was first out of the front carriage, erupting more than stepping down from the train. He’d seen her as the train came in, ripping some old blanket off and throwing it on a seat. She looked amazing, even in ugg boots.
When Emily turned to check the other carriages, he was halfway to her. Beaming. Arm out, wild daisies he’d taken from between the tracks at Seymour station in hand. She laughed and burst into tears at the same time.
He’d really come. He’d left his home and his dream and he’d come to be with her. And the silly idiot brought the most beautiful flowers as well. He’s not like any boy the world’s ever known, and he’s here for me.
Emily got hold of him and hung on, and the world felt like it was spinning at triple speed. They didn’t even kiss. They just stood on the platform together as one. Hendrix thought she was laughing because she was jiggling so much, and when he pulled his head back to look at her, she burrowed deeper into his shoulder. That’s when he knew she was crying. The way she let go loosened the tap for him as well. By the time the platform had cleared, Emily and Hendrix had practically melted into each other.
Anna hung back inside the station, watching.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered to no one in particular.
By the time they got home, everyone had settled down.
As the front door swung open, Lucky bounced out, quickly followed by Siss. She’d kind of got what was going on, and was a little surprised to see the front seat empty. She thought everyone loved the front seat, but maybe not when someone like Hendrix was in the back.
‘G’day, Lucky. Hello, girl,’ he said as the dog jumped onto him.
‘Likes you more than me,’ went Emily. ‘You better take her for a run.’
‘Hmmm,’ went Hendrix. ‘I might be done running.’
‘Funny,’ said Emily.
‘Hilarious,’ went Hendrix in a way that made the word sound like the least funny thing in the world.
‘I’ll get your bags,’ said Siss. No one ever came to stay without a bag.
‘Cup of tea?’ asked Anna. ‘Something to eat? Muffin? Call your father?’
Emily jumped in. ‘Jeez, Mum. Give him a chance, he’s just got here.’
A long breath whistled out from between her teeth. ‘It’s just, I said that I’d get you to call if I saw you and I reckon I’ve seen you, so, how about you ring him? Then, at least I’ve done my bit, eh?’ Anna held her mobile out to him. ‘You can do it here or inside or go for a walk. I don’t mind. But you best make the call.’
Hendrix took the phone and said, ‘No worries, thanks.’
‘Come on, Siss, Em. Give him some privacy.’
‘Please stay,’ Hendrix urged Emily. ‘It’s alright.’ Then, when Anna and Siss had gone inside he added, ‘I’m only gonna text him.’
The phone rang almost straight after he’d pressed Send. It scared the shit out of them. ‘Not answering it.’
‘You’d better,’ said Emily, staring at the phone like it was a bomb about to go off.
‘Nope.’ The ringing stopped, then started again. And again, and again. After the third time, they muted the phone, but watched as it rang another five or six times. After that it stopped. But moments later, a text arrived. ‘Hendrix. Pick up the phone. We need to talk. I’m sorry.’ Then it rang again. Then texts, then calls and eventually, there was nothing.
‘What’d you say in your text?’ said Emily.
Hendrix scrolled through the messages that had come onto Anna’s screen and found his original text.
Hi Dad. In Benalla with Emily. I’m fine. Need a break. Drx.
‘Shit. That’s on the seriously vague side of opaque.’ Emily looked worried. ‘What’s going on?’
Hendrix let a huge breath go before answering. ‘I can’t do it anymore. It’s only running, you know. It’s not life or death. And, I’m going backward, getting slower. Compared to you, running means nothing. Look at you, you’re actually fighting for your life with everything you’ve got, and I’m fighting a running machine. Who gives a shit? I’d rather be here.’
He kissed her, then. Not all heaving and desperate, but heavy in other ways.
‘You mean more to me than anything,’ he said. ‘Once you’ve won your race, I’ll think about running mine.’
Hendrix stuck to his word and didn’t run, at all.
Instead, he put his effort into Emily. Went to the hospital, waited during her treatments and tried to make her laugh when her mood was weighed down with recovery. From that first afternoon he became the designated head and back rubber, the getter of ice cubes and frozen hydration sticks. He had lame jokes to tell and told the same inspirational stories his father had told him. For laughs he tried to get hold of an x-ray picture of a broken foot or leg to send to his father, pretending it was his.
Emily didn’t think it was that funny. ‘More cruel,’ she said. ‘Cruel’s not funny.’
When Lucky bou
nced about for a ball he threw that, too. And he loved the hard and heavy farm work; it was a relief to find something that hurt more than he did. He slept on the porch, in the flywire room they called the sleep-out, and didn’t go close to breaking the family rules.
‘You look like my Dad,’ squealed Emily, trying not to sound dopey after an afternoon nap. ‘Look at ya!’
Hendrix could see it. He was wearing her father’s workshirt and Hard Yakka pants. They were cinched at the waist with a woven leather belt, the same kind most of the Benalla boys wore. The boots were her fathers, too. Anna had offered to take him shopping, but Hendrix said he was fine, he wasn’t staying forever, just until Em was right.
‘Cos you are coming back to town, aren’t ya,’ he’d said a few times.
And the answer was always, ‘Of course’.
Hendrix knew Anna had been talking to his father. The thought of him hung like a dark, threatening cloud.
‘He’s sad,’ Anna said after they’d eaten dinner. ‘It’s hard for him to understand what’s happened. And it’s not just the training, I actually think he misses you. He said it’s been the worst three days of his life and I think he meant it.’
Hendrix rolled his eyes. ‘Did he say he missed me? Did he use those words?’
‘I got the sense he did, that’s all.’
Hendrix knew what his dad missed. It was being in control, having someone to bark at and push and bully. The State Champs were just over a week away. He knew his dad would be mental at the thought he didn’t have a runner. Hendrix figured everything would be much better once he’d missed the States and therefore the Nationals. Only then would his dad be able to see things for what they were, not what they could be.
‘He’ll be right. Dad always is.’ Then Hendrix laughed. ‘He’s not going to come up, is he? Like, he’s not going to come in the middle of the night and try and do some vigilante raid to rescue me? Like you’re a cult.’
Anna should’ve laughed. Instead she said, ‘He’s here.’
‘What?’ Hendrix jumped, looking around wildly.
‘Relax, Hendrix. He’s not here. But he is in Benalla, at the Comfort Inn Motel. I said I’d take you to see him.’
Hendrix felt his knees weaken. He looked to Emily for support, but she was head down at the table, either asleep or riding another wave of nausea.
‘Nup,’ he said. ‘I can’t. He’ll try guilt me back and make me run. I said I won’t.’
‘Or you could tell him how you feel. And why. He might understand.’
Hendrix concentrated on rubbing Emily’s back, but Anna was watching him. And whilst he knew she was probably right, there was no way she could understand what he was going through because she didn’t know his father.
‘What if I don’t know how I feel?’
‘You know how you feel, Hendrix,’ said Emily. ‘You’ve just got to find the words.’ Without raising her head, she put a hand out for Hendrix to hold. After a couple of squeezes, he shook his head.
‘I can’t do it.’
Emily looked up, a beautiful, ghostly shadow of herself. ‘You have to do it, Hendrix.’
He folded his arms and put his elbows on the table. ‘I’ll think about it. But I’m definitely not running, and I’m not leaving Benalla.’
Anna smiled at him. ‘Unless we ask you to.’
‘Didn’t mean it like that,’ went Hendrix. ‘You know, I just meant –’
‘We know what you meant. Don’t lose your sense of humour now, Hendrix. It might be all we have left.’
The Comfort Inn looked dark and quiet. Hendrix tried to control his breathing in the car, but by the time they pulled into the parking lot, the pressure was palpable.
‘Number three. Numberrrrr three,’ went Anna, making noise for the sake of it, hoping for distraction. ‘There it is, and there he is.’
His father shielded his eyes from the headlights, turning it into a wave. He’d been leaning against the pole outside his room, hands in pockets. Hendrix couldn’t remember seeing him without a phone in his face.
‘I’ll be right here,’ said Anna. She’d backed the car into a space on the other side of the lot.
‘Thanks,’ said Hendrix. ‘For everything. I’m not actually sure how you talked me into this.’
Very slowly, he got out of the car and walked over. His father bounced off the post to meet him. The handshake was cordial.
‘Hey, Dad,’ he said, keeping his distance.
‘G’day, Drix. You look like you’ve grown.’
‘It’s been four days, Dad. I seriously doubt it.’ He was actually expecting him to say he’d put on weight, so the ‘you’ve grown’ thing was a surprise.
‘You look good,’ his dad said, forcing a smile. ‘You always do.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Hendrix was in the khaki pants, a t-shirt and his runners. To his father he looked anything but good and Drix knew it. He struggled to keep the hurt out of his voice, but he was so pissed off he could barely speak.
Dad pointed a thumb at his room. ‘Want to come inside?’
‘Not really.’
‘So, we’ll talk out here? In the middle of the carpark?’
Hendrix looked around. ‘It’s not like we’re going to get run over.’
‘No, it’s not. I just thought it might be more comfortable in the room, but this is fine. We could go for a walk, eh?’ He started moving but Hendrix held his ground. Anna lowered her window.
‘G’day, Anna,’ called his dad, as breezily as he could.
‘Paul,’ she said. ‘Everything okay?’
Hendrix pulled his head out of his boots and looked up. ‘It’s fine. We’re going to go for a walk.’
‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘I’ll be here.’
Hendrix mooched alongside his father. Neither spoke until they were past the reception and onto the footpath. ‘Here. I’ve got something for you.’ He pulled Hendrix’s phone from his pocket and handed it over.
‘Thanks, I suppose. It is my phone after all.’ He hit the home button, the screen a mess of messages.
‘Yeah, well. Technically.’ It kind of hung in the air. ‘Whatever. I don’t want to argue.’
A grunt from Hendrix. ‘That’s a change.’
‘What are you so pissed about, Hendrix?’ His father stopped and turned to face him. His voice was strained, like he wasn’t quite sure of himself.
Hendrix stopped, but didn’t turn to face his father, instead scrolling through the messages on his phone.
‘I don’t –’ went Dad. ‘What did I –’ He was hopeless at hiding his frustration. ‘Put it away, will ya?’ And he tried to palm the phone down. ‘I’m trying to talk to you.’
It was enough to fire Hendrix out of his funk. ‘What am I pissed off about? Nothing, obviously.’ He hit the home button on his phone again, lighting both their faces, but then clicked it off. ‘I’m not pissed off at all.’
‘Oh really? Of course you are.’
Typical, thought Hendrix. He hated the way his father was so passive aggressive and sarcastic. They’d barely started talking and already he had a reason to walk away. But this time, Hendrix held his ground and chanced a glimpse into his father’s eyes, hoping to find some evidence that he knew exactly why he was so angry. But there was nothing.
‘Okay, so I am pissed off. You’re the genius, you must know. So we’re done, right?’ Hendrix shrugged. He tried to sound like he was fine and didn’t care. Like he wasn’t struggling to be standing on some street in Shitsville Benalla wishing he was back with Emily.
His dad shook his head. It was impossible. There had to be a right thing to say to fix things, but for the life of him, he couldn’t see it. He’d figured he would lure Hendrix home with common sense and a bit of discipline, but the logic of it deserted him.
‘See ya,’ mumbled Hendrix, turning to go. ‘I’m going back now.’
‘You don’t have to run in the States,’ blurted his father after Hendrix had taken a couple of steps.
&n
bsp; Hendrix turned back. ‘I’m not going to run in anything.
I told you, I’m done.’
His dad took a step toward him, leaning in, shutting everything else out. ‘Yeah, but. You don’t have to run. I know you don’t want to, but understand, you don’t have to.’
Paul barely knew where the words had come from; it was the last thing he’d expected to say. He had been wrong to think he could take on a full dose of teenage hormones with reason.
He’d rehearsed it on the drive up from Melbourne a bunch of times: Don’t be a deadshit, get in the car, realise your potential and you can have the spoils after – which may or may not include this girl. There’ll be stacks of girls, why blow everything up for this one? Cool your jets, will ya?
And Hendrix, whilst stubborn, would agree, because a week or two over a lifetime together was literally nothing. They’d laugh about it on the way home in the car, then get serious.
In his heart, Paul conceded that he may have been on the blurry side of wrong and the few days’ training they’d missed might not actually matter. But Hendrix was back staring at the ground and wouldn’t look up.
‘I thought you liked it, Drix. More than that, even. I thought you loved it. You never said anything different.’ He was bobbing now, looking for something in Hendrix’s face. ‘It’s all we talked about.’
Finally, Hendrix looked at his father, his eyes a pool of tears. ‘It’s all you ever talked about.’
‘Because we love it,’ Paul blurted. ‘You love it.’ He was surprised by the desperation in his own voice.
‘No, Dad. Because you love it. You’ve never asked me how I feel about running.’ The first tear fell. ‘You’ve only ever asked how I feel, but not what I’m feeling. Now, you’ve bloody pushed me past it. I couldn’t give a shit about running. You and your stealth training – all that “just win” shit. What is that?’