by Andrew Daddo
‘Possibility in, negativity out,’ he said through the breaths. He heard the words in his father’s voice, as if he was in front of him. If his dad was here he’d be rubbing life into his thighs, talking, cajoling, making sure his head was in the right space.
Hendrix realised he didn’t know which runner to sit on for the race. His dad would have them in their colours and would paint a picture for Hendrix to follow. Keep red in front, blue behind, or something like that. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need it. He’d write his own tune to sing to. When the heats were called the first time, he waited. There’d be another call, and then he’d go straight to the marshalling area where coaches weren’t allowed to follow.
In this race, at least, Hendrix just wanted to run.
For Eddy and Anna, the world had started spinning in slow motion.
The chopper was coming. They kept saying it, but not fast enough. Ten minutes, they’d said, but it felt like an hour. All Eddy could think was they could have been a long way to Melbourne by now. In the time it took to clear the area and land, then load Emily and take off again, they’d have wasted too much time.
‘Time’s the problem, right?’ Anna said to Eddy. ‘If they know that, why don’t they hurry up?’
Eddy tried to comfort Anna by holding her hand or putting an arm around her. He tried to settle her by cooing positive thoughts into her ear, but inside he was manic. He could fix things on the farm, but he’d never felt more useless than here. He wanted to scream at them to do something. Emily just lay there, wired up like a lab rat.
He called Siss and let her know some of what was happening. He reassured her things’d be fine, and it was best if she stayed in Benalla while they went to Melbourne for a special meeting with the doctor. She’d be able to come down soon.
The doctor buzzed in and out, looking importantly at the screens or checking the chart, but didn’t appear to actually be doing anything. Worse, she said nothing, and seemed to actively avoid Anna and Eddy’s eyes. When Eddy was about to completely lose his shit, the nurse came in and said, ‘Chopper’s a minute away. Get your stuff, you’re off.’
Relief washed through Eddy like a flood, tears threatened the way storms do in summer. Anna couldn’t hold back the tide.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re away, Spanner. It’ll be okay now, please don’t cry. It’ll be alright, I promise.’
He barely believed himself. Then the sight of Emily being wheeled out of the emergency room, pale, unresponsive and hopeless caused his tears to flow, too.
The inside of the chopper was like a compact mobile hospital room. Anna rode in the back with Emily, Eddy in front. It was better for him to be up there. He knew that being useless was just about the worst thing a man could be, so at least he had a bunch of knobs and dials to look at to take the tiniest part of his mind away from what was happening in the back. Anna was in a small jump seat, slightly separated but close enough to get hold of Em’s hand once she was locked and loaded.
Emily looked serene.
A chopper ride should have been fun, an adventure even. But this was shit. Later, Anna and Eddy would realise how little they remembered of it.
‘Under 17 boys 800 metres semi-finals to the marshalling area. Final call. Boys Under 17 800 metres.’
One day they’d get a PA system that didn’t crackle with every syllable that went through it.
Hendrix felt himself tighten. It was his butt more than anything, a bit like when he’d been in strife as a kid and didn’t know how to get out of it. He’d turtle, having to hold everything in so he didn’t shit himself. But this time, the fear was mixed with excitement.
Finally, thought Hendrix.
From the shadows he watched the other runners drift out from the bleachers after their good luck hugs or handshakes. Like him, they’d done so much work to get here.
To Hendrix, they all looked pretty much the same. All lean, mostly long, all puffed up trying to get an edge before their race began. He saw his father at the entrance to the marshalling area, head bobbing about like he’d lost something. He looked more nervous than Hendrix felt, which was exactly why he’d wanted to avoid him before the race.
Hendrix knew his dad’d be all emphatic and jittery. He’d be pushing the competitors colours on him, telling him who to follow and who to flog. He decided to wait to the last moment to get in there. Straight through with a, ‘Hi, sorry Dad. Gotta go. See you here after.’ It’d piss him off, but Hendrix figured at least he was here, it was a start to a different kind of recovery.
Hendrix managed to sneak up behind his father as the runners were corralled trackside before being moved to the centre of the field.
‘Dad,’ he said, giving him a short one into the ribs. ‘Made it. See you after, eh?’ Hendrix never stopped moving, but his father waved his hand at him, calling him back. ‘Gotta go, Dad.’
‘Come here,’ went his father. And Hendrix, drawn in with no real choice, changed direction and went back, hands out, almost pleading.
‘I know, Dad. Just win, right?’ he said when he was close enough to whisper.
His dad didn’t say a word, just wrapped his arms around him and hung on. Hendrix was stuck in that awkward hands-by-his-side position, unable to do much else but be a passenger in his father’s grasp. With a wriggle he got his hands to his father’s back and half hugged, half patted.
‘Just run,’ said Dad. ‘Run and breathe.’ He relaxed his grip and Hendrix stepped back.
‘And win,’ smiled Hendrix ruefully.
‘Just run, son. Top four’ll do it. Win the next one.’ He was smiling when he said it, a shit-eating grin, friendly even, almost normal. Hendrix got to the other boys and quickly found Ethan.
‘See you found your dad, mate,’ he said. ‘We gonna run together or what?’
‘Yeah. I think so. I dunno. I’m just gonna run, see what happens.’
There was a bunch of faffing about on the way to the start line. Lot’s of peacocking and even a bit of jostling. Hendrix stayed well clear of it. No one even looked at him. He was another runner for the best boys to beat, so kept his distance and let them do their puffed-up dance. He wished he’d spoken to Emily before the race, her good luck would’ve meant everything.
‘Come on, boys,’ went the starter. ‘Keep it nice.’
From lane six, he was a nowhere runner. Hendrix rolled his weight back onto his heels to show he was barely awake, let them have the early win over him. He found his dad on the fence looking agitated, motioning for him to move forward, but he stayed put, closed his eyes and imagined a country wind coming in and out of him. He thought about where the oxygen went and why, how the blood filled with energy on the deep breaths. He took a full step back, and when the starter asked if he was alright, Hendrix nodded. He was fine.
‘Here we go, boys.’
The runners were deep inside their own heads, elbows all over the place, the odd sledge coming out. Hendrix wasn’t buying into it. He knew races were often won and lost on the start line, but only if you were dumb enough to put some skin in the game.
‘Take your marks.’
He watched the outside lanes settle. He did, too, but he was loose.
‘Set.’
Hendrix emptied his lungs and dragged in a big one.
MHEEEP! went the starter pistol.
Away.
The most important part was being clean after the first bend when all the runners came in from their assigned lanes to the inside of the track. It was a matter of not stepping on someone or having anyone maul you. Drifting to the back, Hendrix was fine. There were no dramas, and once the field settled a couple of rabbits put the gas on for a decent lead before the first three hundred was done. If they were good enough, it could be smart, but they were vulnerable as well. Without looking behind they wouldn’t know what the rest of the field was up to; when they did look, they’d lose momentum. Hendrix easily ran down two runners and settled on the back of the main group. He’d wait, use them to cut through
the wind. There was a pocket for him to sit in behind Ethan, so that’s where he spent most of the race. One, two runners way up front. Three, four, five, and six in his pack, making him seventh.
The rabbits had been reeled in before the back straight of the bell lap. Ethan had hung on, too. He was the only runner Hendrix actually knew, but he was beginning to look wobbly. At the top of the back straight, it was time to go. Hendrix accelerated easily, not a short burst, but a prolonged attack. After sliding past three runners he knew he was home. Top four was one runner away and he’d be cactus before they got to the final straight.
Hendrix felt incredible, faster than he ever had, and it was somehow easier. The breathing was fluid, it felt like his heart was working at half speed. Ethan fell behind on the corner, putting Hendrix into the top three. He was home. He checked behind but there were no comers. One rabbit had fought his way back, the other was probably roadkill on the last bend. The boy in second looked to be doing it easily, so Hendrix pushed a little harder to see what he had in reserve. When they crossed the line, the other boy was just ahead. He might have been foxing, or he could have flogged himself to finish first.
A clear third for Hendrix. His chest was heaving; it hadn’t been a gift, but there was so much more inside to draw on. For the first time, Hendrix knew if he actually wanted the State Championships, it would be his. Within a couple of minutes his heart rate was pretty much back to normal. He’d won, even though he hadn’t, a victory both in his head and his heart.
Ethan had crashed to seventh. Like a ninth grader on a goonbag, he’d gone out too hard and obliterated himself.
‘Bad luck, Eth,’ said Hendrix.
‘You made it, right?’
‘Just.’ But he was full of it.
‘Bullshit “just”. You’re gonna kill ’em. I’m sticking around – your one-man cheer squad.’ He looked over Hendrix’s shoulder. ‘Oh, hang on, the main man in the cheer squad is on his way.’
His dad was on the phone, looking up from time to time, but generally at the ground. Hendrix felt a bit of the air blow out of his tyres. He wasn’t surprised, but it would have been great to feel the weight of his father’s meaty hand slap onto his back and say something like, ‘A perfect run. Beautiful. Are you psychic or something? That was like, the exact race I was thinking.’ Instead, and predictably, he had his head in his phone, and when he looked at Hendrix, it was with a wound-up frown.
‘No, you might be right, Ethan. You probably will be a one-man cheer squad.’ His father stopped by the fence and stayed on the phone. He was well out of earshot, but looked to be speaking in secrets anyway. He was probably halfway through a deal to sell the rights to his training regime. The pressure’d be on now. Hendrix and Ethan gathered their gear, pulling on the tracky dacks to stay warm.
When his dad finally stopped talking, he didn’t come straight over. Instead, he started tapping away at his phone. It was clear as day to Hendrix. Same shit, different day. His father would be inputting the data from the race. Hendrix didn’t have his watch on, so his dad’d be pissed about missing the heart rate info. He still made no move to speak to Hendrix.
‘Hmmm, I thought that was okay. Better go and see how bad that race really was. See you later, Eth.’
Ethan clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It was bloody great, mate. Don’t worry about him. He’s like my dad.’
They fist bumped at the gate to the track, Ethan heading to the stands, Hendrix turning to his father.
His dad met him halfway.
‘Good race, Drix,’ he said without much feeling. ‘Finals. That’s good. Hey, listen –’
Hendrix took the bait before it had hit the water. ‘You could be happy about it. State final, Dad. That’s a pretty big deal in anyone’s books.’
‘It is. Definitely. Listen.’
Hendrix couldn’t believe how quickly things could turn. ‘I knew this’d happen. It’s why I –’
‘Hendrix, listen,’ said his dad, grabbing him by the shoulders.
From where Ethan was standing it looked awful. He watched as Paul gave Hendrix a bit of a shake, eventually reaching for Hendrix’s chin and holding it up so he had to look at him.
What an absolute dickhead, thought Ethan. Arsehole should learn to stop living his dreams through his kid.
He watched as Hendrix stared his father down, then something strange happened, almost like Hendrix’s legs buckled, and his dad grabbed him before he hit the ground.
Anna held tight to Emily’s hand for the entire flight. The doctor had worked around her, constantly checking things, writing notes and numbers, talking into her headset. Where Eddy had been living the horror of his imagination up front, there had been a strange level of comfort for Anna; at least she had been there, kind of in it.
That all changed on landing.
The glass doors to the rooftop pad of the Royal Children’s Hospital opened up and it had looked to Eddy as if an army was coming at them. The stretcher-bearers were first. The blades hadn’t even stopped spinning as the doors were opened and the transfer was on. Nurses, orderlies, machines on wheels. It was all there, all coming toward them at a clip. Standing in the doorway on the phone and in scrubs was Dr Harrington.
His wave was short, almost terse. After a quick chat with the chopper doctor and a very brief once-over of Emily, he turned to Anna and Eddy.
‘Well, it looks like your little girl might have forced our hand,’ he said. He pulled the corners of his mouth back. It was a barely a smile. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s not really much to tell you at this point. We’re going to operate to see what’s happening first, and once we know where we’re at, we’ll work out the rest from there. From what we can ascertain, it looks like she slipped into a coma this morning, probably in the car, that’s why she was so unresponsive.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Well, yes. And then we’ve medicated her to keep her in the coma to shut everything down. We want as little going on in her body as possible. Emily’s stable, has been since this morning, we wouldn’t have done anything differently had she been here the whole time.’
‘That’s good, right?’
The doctor was trying to rush through the information. ‘Yep. As good as we can hope. We’ve got to clear the haemorrhage first, then I’m going to look at this meningioma as well. Your doctor in Benalla says treatment was going well, everything looked pretty good up to this morning. I’m going to work from that. It’s going to be a pretty brutal night, I’m afraid. Please, try and be patient. I’m not big on updates during surgery, especially an operation like this because it’s incredibly complicated. But when it’s over, we will go through all of it. It’s the only way. We’ll do our best, that’s a promise.’
Eddy wanted to ask about the chances. Was it fifty-fifty? Twenty-eighty? Eighty-twenty? It was stupid, but he just wanted an idea. Some kind of ledge to cling to before he went over the cliff. For the first time he had the very real sensation of losing his shit completely, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
The sight of Dr Harrington soothed Anna. The doctor was calm, controlled and spoke to them with absolute authority. At least, she thought, we’re in the best possible hands.
‘If there’s hope,’ she said to Eddy, ‘Emily’s going into surgery with him now.’
They were directed to a waiting room and offered tea or coffee and something to eat, but they declined everything, despite being reminded there was a long night ahead of them. Other people shared the waiting room. A husband to someone in emergency, maybe. Other parents to a sick child, definitely. Anna looked at them and offered what she thought was a hopeful smile. The mum lost it, catching her head in her hands. The dad rubbed her back and shook his head hopefully.
‘The bone was literally sticking out of his leg,’ he said, tears in his eyes. ‘He might lose it.’ This made the woman with her head in her hands cry even harder. ‘You guys okay?’ he said.
Eddy shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t know how to compete wit
h a compound fracture.
As soon as they were told Emily was under and the surgery had begun, Anna headed outside. They’d been at the hospital for less than thirty minutes. She got hold of Siss to tell her some more of the story. Astrid was the next call. Anna didn’t have to be brave for her sister and the fear came out in waves. At first Astrid couldn’t really follow what she was saying, but the reality dawned like a sledgehammer to the head.
‘Okay, so you’re at the Royal Childrens. Okay. I’m coming. Yes, I’ll be careful. I love you, Anna. She’ll be okay. It’s going to be fine.’
After gathering herself, Anna called Paul. He picked up on the second ring and was buoyant.
‘Timing’s perfect, Anna. A great race. He was amazing, had the field entirely baffled. They won’t know what’s hit them for the final. You want a word?’
‘Paul, wait.’
‘Yeah, of course. Put Emily on first, he’d love that!’ He was so happy. She’d never heard him like this.
‘Paul, wait,’ she begged.
‘He’s coming, he’s pretending to look buggered. God he was good. He’ll fucking flog them! The kid’s going to be –’
‘It’s Emily, Paul. There’s a problem,’ she started, but wasn’t able to finish.
Hendrix looked frantically around the waiting room for Anna and Eddy. The place was heaving with family members and friends of other people finding ways to share the hurt. He waved to Anna and instantly felt stupid for doing it. Anna stood up and went to him. She grabbed hold of Hendrix before he had a chance to say a word and held him tight. If ever he’d needed a mother, this had to be it. Anna rubbed his head and his back and as he settled, brought him up-to-date in big brushstrokes.
‘She went into a coma after we dropped you off, so they think she’s had a haemorrhage. The doctor is going to deal with that first, and then he’s going to look at the tumour.’
‘I should never have left,’ Hendrix finally said, trying to undo himself from the hug.