by Andrew Daddo
It was her turn to laugh. ‘Take them off.’
‘I’m not taking my jeans off!’
Emily folded her arms across her chest and hit him with a stink eye.
‘What?’ he said, feeling as if he’d done something wrong.
‘Run in your undies, they look like shorts, anyway.’
‘Nah.’
‘Yeah they do, they look like Dad’s old footy shorts, only not as tight. There’s no one here.’
He shook his head, she nodded; they went round and round for a while until they resolved it with a game of scissors, paper, rock. Emily played dynamite and blew his rock apart. Despite his bleatings, he dropped his pants, struggling to get them over his runners.
‘Great, that almost went to plan,’ she smirked. ‘Now, you’ve had your warm-up lap, let’s see how you really run. Bet you can’t beat Lucky.’
‘Bet I can’t, too.’
‘That’s not the spirit, Debby Downer. Your race is two laps, right? So do two laps. I’ll time you with my phone. Ready, set …’
‘Hang on, I’m not ready.’ He was still standing in front of her, hands in front of his privates. ‘And it’s kind of stupid because it’s grass, not a proper track, so the time’s not going to be any good. And I’m in my jocks. And I’ve got a dog.’
Emily leaned her head to one side. ‘Excuses, excuses! Just do your best, lovely. Gimme the dog. Here we go. Aannnnnd, ready, steady …’
‘Finish line’s here,’ he said. It was the same place he’d marked out earlier, only this time, he got a few leaves from the ground and made a neat pile.
‘Aaaannnnnd …’ She was fussing with her phone while Hendrix got into a crouch. ‘… Go!’
It was like a reflex, as if he had no control of his muscles once he heard the word. Lucky lurched to go with him, but Emily leaned back against the strain and held tight.
By the first turn, Hendrix had thought of a million reasons to stop because the whole thing was so stupid. The start line was in the middle of the straight, it was on grass, he was in his jocks, not compression shorts. And while he was in runners, they weren’t actual running shoes. He hadn’t trained in over a week. His warm-up had been half-arsed. There was no chance he’d be anywhere near what he was capable of. It was just a stupid thing to do.
Hendrix snuck a look at Emily and she watched on with the kind of smile a little kid might meet his mum with after a long day at work. It wasn’t flat out, but he ran on, conscious for the first time he wasn’t running for him.
‘Faster!’ he heard Emily roar. She could see he was just trundling down the back straight and into the top turn. He was kind of working, but it wasn’t until he pulled into the straight that he found any sense of flow.
Yard by yard, the little things came back. Head still, arms tight to loose hands. Set a line to run to and commit. Follow the path. Believe in the process. Down the straight, past the start line, Hendrix relaxed into it. At the top of the next bend, he could actually feel himself moving. The angle was good, the push in his ankles, the short burn in his achilles.
When Hendrix remembered to breathe, everything came back with a rush. It was how he imagined a hit for addicts, how their worlds must open up. He could see better, focus on what he was doing, but also how he was doing it. At the top of the main straight, he was powering, like he’d been whipped out of the turn and launched. He picked his spot in front of him and charged. Steps turned to strides, his arms pumped the engine, constantly refilling the tank a breath at a time. Hendrix felt transformed. He wasn’t at the Benalla primary school. He wasn’t anywhere. Hendrix was just running. It hadn’t felt like this in ages.
The second lap was a blur to halfway round the top turn, when things started to hurt. Thighs first, then the chest, the feet, and by the time he hit the final straight he’d lost form. His circuit board screamed at him to back off, but his heart pushed the pain away and begged for more.
He fell on the line.
Emily squealed, Lucky broke free and headed for him, trying to right him with a face full of slobber. Hendrix lay on his back and sucked in huge gobfuls of air.
When he could speak again he said, ‘How fast?’
‘Huh?’ said Emily, now sitting across his stomach.
‘What was the time? How long?’ he panted, the wind coming back to him quickly now.
‘Oh, I was just kidding about that. I didn’t really time you. What are you, a five-year-old? But I did take a few pictures.’ She stuck the phone in his face, making him cringe at the sight of himself falling across the imaginary finish line, his t-shirt riding up giving full view of his underpants.
‘You have to delete that.’
‘No way,’ she said. ‘That one lives with me forever! And this one, and this one, and this one.’ She was swiping across her phone and laughing, eventually falling on top him.
They wrestled for a bit until she wriggled free, settling next to him so they could look at the photos together.
‘You’re pretty fast, eh?’
‘That wasn’t fast,’ he said.
‘Sure it was. You were flying.’
‘I was dying,’ he grunted.
Emily got up on an elbow and looked at him. ‘When I die, I want to look happy like you just did.’
He clutched at his chest. ‘Seriously, I think I was having a heart attack.’
‘Hendrix, don’t be a dick. You were amazing. You looked alive, like, actually happier than you’ve been since you got here.’ Emily wasn’t gushing, just talking. ‘What happens when you run, where’d you go?’
It was quiet for the longest time. ‘I don’t know what happens,’ he finally whispered. ‘I just go. I hear my breath, but it’s like it’s not me. It sounds good, though. When I want to go faster, I can. It just happens. It’s like there’s a valve, and I open it to get the air I need. I pump it in with my arms, and the legs follow.’ He took her hand and put it over his heart. ‘But this is the best bit. When I’m going hard, really pushing, my heart’s pumping in my ears and my throat. I can actually feel it, and hear it. It’s how I feel when I’m with you, you know?’
‘I reckon I do,’ she whispered.
He wouldn’t look at her, instead concentrating on the sky. ‘But when I run, It’s almost as if I can control my heart, slow it down when I don’t need the power, speed it up when I do. I can’t do that when you’re around. It just thumps away. That’s the power of you.’
‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Hendrix.’
‘Aw, shucks,’ he said, trying to make a joke of it.
‘You know you have to run in the championships. You were born for it. I’ve always thought it was shit, but you know when people talk about happy places, I think I just saw yours.’
‘Nah. I’m not running. Get you better first. There’s plenty of time for running.’ She could feel the mood start to eek away.
‘Why can’t we do both? Have everything? It’s one day, Hendrix. I can stay, do my treatments, you go to Melbourne and come back my champion.’
He shook his head, said he’d already decided.
Emily wriggled away from him. ‘Don’t be a dickhead,’ she said, not meaning to sound so terse. ‘Staying here with me for a day won’t change a thing. Like, it’s good, and I love it. But you running and winning could change lots of things. Haven’t you thought about that? Scholarships? Some big fancy uni? You could run for Australia. You’ve got a chance to do something really special, but you won’t.’
‘What if I don’t win?’ he deadpanned back.
‘What if you do?’
‘It’d kill my dad if I don’t.’
‘You’re killing your dad already. Running might save him.’
Hendrix mulled that over. ‘So, you don’t care if I don’t win?’
Emily laughed. ‘Of course I want you to win, but not for me. For you. For your dad, even. But most of all, I want you to run because deep down, it makes you happy. Happy you, happy me.’ He helped her up. �
��Besides, I think Mum wants me to spend some time with Siss. If I know you’re gone for the day, that’ll make it easier.’
He pretended to sound hurt. ‘Trying to get rid of me?’
‘Yep,’ Emily nodded. ‘But not for long.’
They were early for the train. Hendrix had his bag with his running gear, a couple of bananas, some nuts and two drink bottles. He was nervous, in a grumpy way.
‘Have you called your dad?’ said Anna, trying to help.
‘Yep,’ went Hendrix without looking at her. He hadn’t. He knew he should have, but there was the whole train ride to Melbourne to make the call.
The truth was, Hendrix wasn’t convinced he would run. If, for whatever reason, he gutted out, his father’d be none the wiser. He’d simply turn around, get the train back to Benalla and that would be that.
Emily had lain down on the back seat, her head in Hendrix’s lap.
‘He hasn’t called,’ she said. ‘Have you?’
‘Nup.’
‘I think you should,’ Anna said. ‘He’d hate to miss it.’
Hendrix opened the car door for some air. ‘Oh, he’ll be there, whether I am or not. He knows what time I’d run and even how I’d run the race. Dad knows exactly how I’d go. The weird thing is, even if I don’t, he’ll see me running. He’ll have me in the pocket on the first lap, biding my time behind the leaders for most of the second, then coming around the outside at the beginning of the final bend. He’ll see me moving off the shoulder of the leader or the guy in second at the top of the straight. He’ll see me win, but he won’t know by how much.’ He checked his watch. ‘I will call him. I will. Shouldn’t you go? You’ll be late for treatment.’
‘That would suck,’ said Emily, pretending to gag on her own finger. She looked tired, and pale, but had insisted she was fine. ‘We want to make sure you get on the train.’
‘I’ll be on it.’ He got out of the car and bent down to give Emily a kiss.
‘Good luck, champ.’ Emily rolled a finger toward him, puckering up for another kiss as she lay prone on the seat. He leant over and pressed his lips against hers then gently closed the door and waved to Anna. She got out and hugged him.
‘Run for you,’ she whispered. ‘And run to run.’
‘Thanks,’ muttered Hendrix, still feeling torn about going. ‘I’ll ring you and let you know how it goes.’
Anna encouraged him with a big grin. ‘That’d be great. Now piss off, will ya? Em told you this is our family day, didn’t she?’
Anna watched him disappear into the station before driving off. Emily stayed in the back seat, her arm over her face. Anna figured she was upset about him leaving and left her to it.
After a little while Anna said, ‘Think he’ll run?’ It was as much to herself as Emily. ‘Hey? What do you think, Em? Have we got a State Champion for a boyfriend or what?’
Emily still hadn’t said a word, so Anna guessed she was either really sad to see him go, thinking about how good it was for him to be running, or sound asleep.
At the traffic light, Anna turned to ask again. ‘Em? You think he’ll run?’
Emily didn’t move when Anna playfully nudged her.
‘You okay, Em? Emily? Shit.’
For Hendrix, it had been too late for last-minute training. Had everything gone to plan, he’d have been tapering for the past few days, anyway. Gentle runs, lots of stretching, lots of good food. All he’d really missed was the few days hard work before that. His diet had been pretty shit, not that the food was bad. Anna had Emily on all sorts of macrobiotic superfoods, but they were more foods for healing than storing energy. It had barely registered with Hendrix because he’d genuinely had no intention of racing, and yet, here he was on the train to Melbourne.
After the Avenal stop, he thought about going to sleep.
He still had to change trains at Seymour, so Hendrix thought about accidentally sleeping through the changeover and letting fate decide what might happen. But sleep didn’t come for him and he boarded the Melbourne train on schedule.
He punched his father’s number into the phone and stared at it for a while before shutting it off. There would be time for that. Hendrix knew his father would make him nervous, wanting to pick him up from the station and talk tactics the whole way to the meet. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.
Hendrix already knew the tactics. For once, he liked the idea of just running how he felt, of being in the flow. More than anything, he wanted to feel the way he had on that oval with Emily. Just running for the sake of running. For the love of it.
Anna called the hospital and Eddy from the car as she drove. There was a gurney waiting for them, with Siss and Eddy at the front door. He held the door and watched hopelessly as Emily was lifted from the car. She was out of it, her head lolling about like she’d been belted.
Anna hadn’t been able to raise much more than a few grunts from Emily. If it was a headache, it was next level, but she had that sinking feeling this was worse than anything that’d come before.
Dr Harrington wasn’t answering his mobile and hadn’t called back. He could be anywhere. Friday was his day off, as his secretary had said a couple of times, but she’d keep trying, she promised.
Emily was in emergency. They’d put her on oxygen, drips, and a bunch of machines that beeped out her vital signs in rude, electronic burps. The emergency doctor came in and out. She’d spent a long time on the phone, writing, taking notes and agreeing with whoever was on the other end. When she eventually got off she had nothing to offer but was hopeful for some kind of clarity soon.
‘It’s too early to say what’s happened, but we’re doing all the tests. We’ll have a picture soon,’ she said. ‘Please, give us time.’
When Eddy blurted out that was the one thing they didn’t have, he was gently asked to either take a seat, or leave.
The tram ride from Southern Cross station to Olympic Park was long enough for the cloak of self-doubt to practically strangle Hendrix. If he didn’t run, they’d never know if he’d been good enough. As far as the running world knew, he’d done enough to get to the championships, not earn a reputation. This was exactly as his father had wanted. Hendrix really was the dark horse. And this was the time to bring him into the light.
He stood outside the stadium where a stack of other kids and parents worked their way toward the gate. His dad would be in there, somewhere. Maybe not yet. Hendrix was super early. It was too long to wait around, too much time to stew and wonder and watch other kids succeed or fail. He went inside, registered and left the stadium immediately.
There was a sudden flurry of activity around Emily at about the same time Dr Harrington called Anna.
‘Sorry, Anna. They just got me. I’ve spoken to the doctor up there and we’re going to CareFlight Emily to Melbourne. Look, I can’t be certain at this point, but from what she’s told me, and she’s good, it sounds like a ruptured internal carotid artery aneurysm. It’s a scenario we were worried about from the beginning. If that’s what it is, if we can get to it fast enough, we can do something.’
Anna was trying to interrupt, but he wasn’t leaving any pauses for her to sneak into.
‘The guys up there have done a great job, Emily’s stable, which is all we could have asked for. I want her in Melbourne. You’ll be here in just over an hour, that gives us a chance to get ready. As soon as you arrive, we’re going to have a look, and my gut feeling is we’ll have her on the operating table in the next couple of hours.’
‘So –’ Anna was headless. She could hear the words but wasn’t able to process them.
‘I know you’ve got questions and I’d like to answer them, but at this stage, there aren’t any answers. Look, there’s room for you and your husband in the chopper, but you might have to make other arrangements for the younger girl. It’s a race, Anna.’
Anna ripped herself out of the funk and said, ‘It’s bad, isn’t it? Are we going to lose her?’ She was hanging onto her husband like he was
a life buoy in a big sea.
‘Not if I can help it,’ Dr Harrington said calmly. ‘I want to talk to the doctor there again. I’ll go. We’ll see you soon. Godspeed.’
It struck Anna as such an unusual, old-fashioned thing to say. She found it strangely comforting.
Hendrix used the toilets by the footy field to change, stuffing his normal clothes into the bag and pulling his track pants over his school running uniform. He thought about Ethan, and after checking with registration was surprised to find he hadn’t checked in yet. Maybe he’d had a change of heart. They hadn’t spoken for ages, not even a text.
He sent one to Emily – How’s tricks? – and wasn’t really surprised he didn’t hear back. She’d probably be in radiation therapy now. He knew it was a bit hard to amble across a keyboard when your head was stuffed in a huge oven getting the shit baked out of it.
He texted Ethan.
Where are you?
Change rooms. Thought you’d quit on me.
Nup. I’m here.
Your dad’s here. He’s looking for you. You still on the run? Have I seen you?
Hendrix laughed. Ethan was either hilarious or incredibly dramatic.
You have not seen me.
Will I see you in the heats?
Yep.
Ethan was in the same race. Two heats of eight boys, the top four from each going through to the final. Hendrix didn’t rate Ethan’s chances. He’d been through the fields a few times with his dad, and out of the final sixteen, Ethan was one of the weakest. From the numbers, Hendrix was mid-field, but that didn’t mean much. He stayed in the shade outside the stadium and stretched, starting with the big muscles and refining as he went. After a couple of warm-up laps around the football field, he did some half-speed sprints and even a few push-ups.
Ten minutes before they called for his race, he went inside but hung nearer the entrance. He kept moving, flicking his feet forward like a sprinter, swinging his arms around his body, then in big circles. Loose, warm and ready. He sat on the ground with his back straight, shoulders up. He sucked in a breath and held it before letting it go slowly, relaxing everything.