by Kate Lattey
“You have to bend,” I told the horse softly. “Otherwise you’re going to break.”
7
WALK IN THE PARK
When I got home, I found Mum at the kitchen table, staring at her laptop. She was still in her smart work clothes, although they were a bit crumpled from the day’s use. I’d heard her leave for work in the dark that morning, and she clearly hadn’t even stopped to take a shower when she got home before carrying on working. Work-life balance didn’t seem to exist in her line of work.
“Hey, Mum.”
She responded without looking up. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”
I debated telling her about Tori, but I knew she wouldn’t really be listening, and there was no point talking to myself.
“It was okay. How was yours?”
“Busy.”
She tapped at the computer keys, and I went to the fridge and stared vaguely into it for a while, unable to get Tori out of my head. The subtle change in her demeanour after Charlie went home had left me with a precarious hope that she’d made some kind of breakthrough, but maybe it was just because she’d been tired. I wouldn’t know for sure until I saw her again tomorrow, and not-knowing was driving me to distraction.
The fridge started beeping at me, and Mum glanced up. “If you’re trying to cool down, we do have air conditioning.”
“Sorry.”
I shut the fridge and joined my mother at the kitchen table, just moments before the door swung open and my brothers came in from wherever they’d been all afternoon. Aidan made a natural beeline towards the fridge while Anders shuffled into the room behind him, his crutches clacking across the hardwood floor.
“Sorry we’re late,” Aidan said. “Took longer than I thought to find the place.”
“How was the room?” I asked, because I knew that Mum wouldn’t.
She was still struggling to deal with the revelation that Aidan wasn’t going back to Otago, and hadn’t quite faced up to the thought of him moving out of home and into a flat in Hastings. Fortunately for her, and unfortunately for Aidan, there weren’t many rooms available for rent, so his pickings were slim. But Astrid had claimed his bedroom as hers after he’d moved out, so he was currently sleeping on an air mattress in the study, a temporary arrangement that wasn’t really working well for any of us, and him least of all.
“It was a dump,” Anders said, sitting down heavily and propping his crutches up against the table.
“It was cheap,” Aidan countered.
Anders snorted. “Because it was a dump. I can’t believe you’d actually consider living there.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Aidan said. “Wait ‘til you move into whatever student accommodation you end up in. Trust me, there’s a lot of places way worse than that. Especially in Dunedin.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not going to Dunedin,” Anders muttered.
Mum’s attention snapped up from her laptop. “What do you mean, you’re not going?” she asked in alarm. “When did that stop being the plan?”
Anders gestured towards his lame leg. “Uh, since this happened. D’you really still expect me to go get my Bachelors in Phys Ed?” he asked bitterly. “I think it’s time we all wake up and realise that’s not going to happen.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, bro,” Aidan said helpfully. “I’m sure there’s at least one paper available on Disability in Sport.”
Anders’s response to that earned him a sharp reprimand from our mother.
“Language!”
“Sorry Mum.”
She looked at him in concern. “Just see where you’re at when you finish out this year, hmm? You don’t need to make any decisions just yet.”
“You could always take a gap year,” I suggested.
“And do what, limp across Europe?” Anders snapped back.
I’d had enough of his self-pity. “Roll across it in a wheelchair for all I care,” I replied with equal acerbity. “Just stop being such a whiny little bi–”
“Hey! What did I just say?!” Mum snapped.
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, the room’s still a maybe,” Aidan said, dragging us all back to the original topic. “I’ve got a couple more options to look at tomorrow.” He pulled a pizza box out of the fridge and opened it, then took out a cold slice and bit into it.
“At least heat that up,” Mum grumbled.
“No point,” Aidan said, taking another massive bite and speaking through his mouthful of food. “It’s almost gone.”
Anders raised his hand and snapped his fingers, and Aidan pulled a second slice out and tossed it across the room like a Frisbee. Anders reached across the table and caught it in one hand, just before it hit Mum’s laptop.
“Boys!” she cried.
“Sorry Mum,” they said, almost in unison.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Aidan told her on his way towards the door. Anders shoved half his slice of cold pizza into his mouth in one go as he stood up and slowly followed on his crutches, and I leaned back in my chair as Mum wiped pizza sauce off her laptop screen.
“They’re animals,” I said, but Mum was smiling.
“Your father was just like that when we met.”
I tried to picture my father as a teenager, and couldn’t do it. “How did you know that Dad was the right guy to marry, way back then? Didn’t you meet when you like, my age?”
“We were seventeen,” she said without looking up. “And trust me, marriage and babies weren’t even on my radar at that point in time.”
“So what changed?”
She shrugged. “Lots of things. I didn’t get the scholarships I applied for, so I stuck around here, and I guess we got used to each other’s company. Most of our friends moved away, but we both stayed in Havelock, and the rest just worked itself out.”
“So it wasn’t love at first sight, or anything?”
“I don’t know that there is such a thing,” Mum replied, shattering any romantic illusions I’d been holding about my parents’ relationship.
“Well, you’re lucky that you both still get along so well,” I said. “Fifty percent of marriages these days end in divorce, you know.”
Mum shrugged. “You could call it luck,” she said. “But I prefer to think of it as persistent endeavour.”
“That doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“One thing you’ll learn as you get older is that romance in the real world isn’t really what the movies make it out to be,” Mum replied. She met my eyes, and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love your father. We’ve made a good life for ourselves, and we have five wonderful children. But relationships take work, and happily ever after doesn’t happen without sustained effort. I see it every day,” she added, looking sad. “People who think that simply loving someone means they’re never going to do something you don’t like, or that if they’ve said I love you a few times, they’ll never let you down. That’s not true, of course. People aren’t perfect. Even the ones you love.”
“Pretty sure I already knew that,” I told her. “Have you met my family? I mean, I love them, but…phew.”
Mum laughed. “That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea.” The twanging sound of an electric guitar came from down the hallway, and moments later Dax padded into the room, his toenails clacking on the wooden floor. He came over and shoved his large head under my hand, insisting on a pat, then whined.
“What’s wrong, Dax? You don’t like Anders’s attempts at music either?”
“I think he wants to go outside,” Mum said.
“I don’t blame you,” I told the dog. “If Anders starts singing, I’ll be out there with you.”
Dax followed me to the door, his tail wagging happily, and took off as soon as I’d opened it. I leaned against the doorframe, watching as he made for his favourite tree and immediately relieved himself against it. It was a cool, clear evening, the light lingering in the sky after the sun had sunk below the distant horiz
on.
Dax was almost back inside when our neighbour’s cat jumped off the woodshed roof and started walking along the top of the high fence between our properties. Dax loved hassling cats, and he couldn’t resist the temptation. He spun around and shot across the lawn, barking loudly. The cat bristled up and arched its back, but stayed where it was. Brave. It knew Dax wouldn’t hurt it – he was a wuss really. Considering the number of times he’d been swiped in the face by pissed-off cats, you’d think that he’d have learned to leave well enough alone, but you’d be wrong.
“The neighbours are going to start complaining in a minute,” Mum muttered.
“He’s trying to drown Anders out,” I joked, but I stepped out onto the deck and called to the dog. “Hey Dax!” He skidded to a stop and looked at me, ears and tail on high alert. I held my finger to my lips. “Shh. Quiet.”
Dax lowered his head, looking deflated. He continued around the perimeter of the garden at a trot, his head lowered and tail stuck straight out behind him.
“He’s patrolling the border, seeking out stealth cats,” I told Mum.
“Good for him. Shut the door, would you, before the bugs start coming inside.”
I pulled the door closed and rested my head against the cold glass, still watching Dax. The way that he was going around and around in repetitive circles reminded me of Tori, pacing impatiently around her box. I hoped her leg was going to be okay after all the exercise she’d done today. Deb and I were due to change the bandage tomorrow, a job that neither of us were looking forward to.
“I think he’s bored,” I told Mum, still staring at the dog. “Maybe I’ll take him for a run tomorrow afternoon.”
I wondered if I’d have time to take him up Te Mata Peak. I hadn’t been up there in ages, and the climb was guaranteed to wear Dax out. Anders used to take him up there a couple of times a week, but since the accident, Dax had been limited to short walks around home. But with winter hockey training due to start in a few weeks, I figured I might as well put some effort into getting fit for it.
Down the hall, Anders turned his amp up and the music got louder. I heard Lexi’s bedroom door bang, which was her passive-aggressive way of warning him that the noise level was too high. It wouldn’t take much for her to drop the passive and go straight to full on aggressive, and Anders knew that, but he didn’t stop playing or turn the amp down.
Dax came back inside wagging happily, and planted his head in my lap as I sat back down. I scratched behind his big ears, and he gazed adoringly up at me, his tail swishing back and forth across the floor.
“What d’you reckon, buddy? Should we go for a walk up Te Mata Peak tomorrow?” Dax’s ears pricked up, and he thumped his tail affirmatively. “Tomorrow,” I reminded him. “One more sleep, okay?”
Anders started to sing, and Lexi’s bedroom door banged again.
“SHUT UP!” she screeched down the hall, her voice ringing through the house. Dax sighed and pressed his head deeper into my lap.
“Maybe you could take Anders with you on your walk tomorrow,” Mum suggested hopefully. “Get him out of the house for a while.”
“He couldn’t keep up,” I argued, which still seemed like a weird thing to be saying about my sports-mad, hyper-fit brother, but these days, it was true. “Could he, Dax?” The big dog panted in my lap, his drool making a wet patch on my jeans.
“He could if you went somewhere flat,” Mum countered as Lexi started stomping down the hall, still screeching at Anders. Mum stood up, apparently having just remembered that Dad was out at a quiz night and she was going to have to sort this out herself. “Please, Poss? I’m supposed to be working from home tomorrow, and I can’t get anything done with that racket going on.”
I groaned, my hands buried in Dax’s thick fur. “Fine. If he agrees to go with me, which he probably won’t.”
“He will,” Mum said confidently as she left the room. “I’m not giving him a choice.”
“Settle down dog,” I told Dax as he dragged me up the sealed road that led into Keirunga Gardens the next morning. “We’ve got to wait for Gimpy McGee.”
Dax whimpered and strained at his collar, his thoughts focused on the off-leash area on the other side of the park. I glanced over my shoulder at my brother, who was making his way up the slope on his crutches. He was moving slowly and methodically, barely allowing his bad leg to touch the ground. True to her word, Mum had forced him to come along, but even she couldn’t make him be happy about it.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” Anders muttered as he caught up. “Take him for a run if you want, I’ll meet you back here.”
I shook my head. “Nice try, but nope. You’d just sit down on that park bench and wait for us to come back, then pretend you’d been exercising while we were gone. I’m onto you,” I told him.
“You calling me lazy?”
“Hey, if the boot fits.” Anders glared at me, not amused, but I grinned back at him. “C’mon bro, cheer up. It’s a nice day for a walk, and if you’re good, I’ll shout you a train ride back down,” I added as the small model locomotive chugged past us, its open carriages half-filled with excited children and their long-suffering parents.
“I’m not five, AJ.”
“Could’ve fooled me, the way you’ve been acting lately,” I said as we stepped into the tree-covered walkway that led us towards the dog park.
I waited for a retort, but none came. Anders trudged along beside me, our feet crunching against the leaf litter that lay across the path, and eventually I couldn’t bear the silence. It wasn’t natural, especially not between the two of us.
“Hey, Anders.”
“What?”
“Wanna lend me five grand?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”
But he hadn’t said he didn’t have it, and I wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Why not?”
“For starters, because I know you’re not good for it.”
“I’d pay you back!”
“In about six years’ time.” He scuffed the toe of his bad leg against the ground and winced. “What do you need five grand for? You thinking of buying another horse?”
“I wish. It’s for Squib.”
“Don’t you already own him?”
“For his saddle. Well, it’s not his saddle. That’s the problem.” I filled my brother in on the situation. When I was done, he shook his head and let out a low whistle.
“That sucks.”
“That’s what Aidan said.”
Anders looked at me sideways. “Already tried to weasel the money out of him, huh? How’d that work out for you?”
“I’m sure you can guess, since I’m asking you.”
“Ask Katy. Her horse wrecked the saddle,” he pointed out.
That had crossed my mind, but only briefly. “It was my fault for leaving it there, though. I knew better.” Dax was pulling hard at his leash, and my arm was getting tired trying to keep him in check. “Aren’t you supposed to be a well-trained dog?” I asked him irritably.
“Just let him roam free.”
“Yeah, great plan,” I said sarcastically. “He’ll go knock over all the little kids and get run over by the model train.”
“Stop complaining then.”
“Like you can talk.”
“Bite me.”
“Gross. No thanks. Get a girlfriend if that’s what you’re into.”
Anders stayed sullenly silent as we walked on, and eventually made it to the off-leash area. I set Dax free to roam around, and being a social butterfly, he immediately made a beeline towards the nearest dogs, a pair of little fluffy white things. They started yapping in alarm at the size of him and fled back towards their owners, who snatched them up and started yelling at me to get my dog under control.
“He’s fine,” I called to them as I jogged in their direction, abandoning Anders at the edge of the path. “He’s very friendly.”
But they didn’t want to hear it, and even when I explained that Da
x was an ex-police dog, which usually makes people warm to him, they insisted that I put him back on the lead and take him away from their precious little feather dusters.
“Sorry buddy,” I told the big German Shepherd as I clipped his lead back on and led him over to Anders, who’d found a park bench and sat himself down on it, his heavily strapped knee stretched gingerly out in front of him.
I was about to sit down next to him when a girl in Lycra leggings and a tight singlet top jogged past with a black Labrador on a leash. Dax pricked up his ears and pulled me towards the other dog, who slowed down and gave Dax a longing sort of look. The girl glanced at us, and I waited for her to stop, smile, remove her earbuds and come over to chat with Anders. But possibly for the first time since my brother had hit puberty, a good-looking girl chose to ignore him. She tugged on her dog’s lead, and it fell back into step with her as she jogged on.
I sat down next to my brother. “You know, it might help your chances with the ladies if you quit sitting there sulking like a small child who’s dropped his ice cream.” His face clouded over even more, but I was sick of humouring him. “Anders, c’mon. It sucks that your knee is busted. It sucks a lot, big time, we know, we get it. But this isn’t going to help.”
“Because it’s that easy, eh.” He crossed his arms tighter across his chest and stared out across the grass. “Just get over it, move on. No big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal. But you can’t change it.”
Anders’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t? Really? I’m so glad you told me that. What would I do without you here to give me a reality check?” He uncrossed his arms and patted me heavily on the shoulder in a way that wasn’t meant to be affectionate. “Thanks for the pep talk, coach. It’s been awesome,” he added, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Yeah all right. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
I rolled my eyes skyward, catching a glimpse of bright blue overhead between the motionless tree branches. There wasn’t even enough of a breeze in the air to shift the leaves. My t-shirt was sticking to my back and sweat prickled under my arms. Dax lay down at my feet with a heavy sigh.