“Yes, but it keeps going from bright to dim, or it just disappears.”
“Let’s count. When you see the dot, count backwards from ten, in Japanese. If the dot disappears before you reach zero, you must start again. Begin.”
Wolf focused on the bright blue spot behind his closed eyes and began counting backwards in Japanese, starting with ten. “Ju, ku, hachi…oh, it’s gone!”
“Begin again,” Master Kelly instructed.
“Ju, ku, hachi, shichi…bugger. This is hard,” Wolf said, opening his eyes.
“Kohai, close your eyes and begin again. Hajime.”
Wolf closed his brown eyes and straightened his spine. “Ju, ku, hachi, shichi, roku…lost it again. Ju, ku, hachi, shichi…”
“Keep trying, Kohai. Don’t give up. This meditation will take you to the mountain beyond. You need to keep practising. It is the way of the warrior.”
Wolf spent the next minutes focused on his breathing, the blue dot, and his counting. When he reached the number zero, the sapphire spot remained and he could hear the rhythmic sound of his breathing. “I counted down and I still see the dot, Sensei,” he said. “Wait. Now I am seeing images.”
“Good. Tell me; what do you see?” Master Kelly asked.
“Well, I see small, green trees and bushes, and there are rocks, and bamboo trees, like you find in a Japanese garden. Oh, and now I’m seeing something else. There’s a hut, and a man wearing a bright red dress or robe. He has dark skin, and he is holding a spear.”
“Breathe in. Breathe out,” his teacher said calmly. “What else do you see?”
“Now there’s a different man. This man is huge, like a giant, and dressed in all black, including over his face. He has a big axe. And now I see another man. This guy looks mean, and he’s got a gun. These two guys are kind of scary.”
“Continue to breathe, Kohai. In and out. In and out.”
“Now I’m in a house. It’s Japanese. It’s kind of like a dojo but there’s furniture and a fire. It’s warm. There is a woman with long, brown hair and green eyes like Polly. I’ve seen her before. She is Junsaku’s wife,” he said, his lips curving. Wolf no longer heard his teacher and could only hear the sound of air entering and exiting his nose and mouth as he breathed, his body feeling light and energized.
After some time passed, he heard Master Kelly say, “Kohai, count with me from zero to twenty, in Japanese, and at twenty, open your eyes.”
When they reached the number twenty, Wolf’s eyes opened. “That was the most I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“And what do you think you were seeing?”
“I’m not sure. The place with the rocks and trees reminded me of where Junsaku lives.”
“What about the other people, or places? You mentioned a hut, and a man in a colourful robe, a giant, and a man with a gun. Do you think those might be other people you know?”
“I felt like I knew them all, even the guys that kind of scared me, and I know it was Cecelia, Junsaku’s wife, because Polly and I have seen her before. She has a baby.”
“Since you know that you were the samurai Junsaku in a past life, maybe these other men you saw were also physical bodies that once were you? Incarnations of your soul? And, if you were Junsaku, then that woman was maybe once your wife,” his teacher said.
“Ick! That’s gross,” Wolf replied, gazing at Polly who was floating just above the tatami mats, her cheeks pink.
Wolf looked into the arctic blue eyes of his teacher as Polly glided over to where Master Kelly stood. She floated next to him, her body sparkling like the sun on the surface of a lake, and she and Master Kelly stared at Wolf before turning to face each other, bowing their heads.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dad spent many days throughout the year betting at the country racetrack, and today he took Wolf and his mum with him, but not Orville because he had a cricket match.
Wolf liked going to the track because his dad always bought him a sausage roll and lemon squash, and he enjoyed talking to the horses as they completed their pre-race walk in the ring. As they paraded by, Wolf stood at the white picket fence and greeted as many as he could, asking how they liked racing. The majority buzzed with excitement, telling him they loved running fast, but a few horses always told him they hated it. He liked that he could have a wordless conversation with horses like he had with his dog, Carla, and he was glad he didn't have to open his mouth to talk to the horses because if people saw him talking to them, they would call him nuts.
“G’day mate,” he said to a dapple grey passing by.
On the horse’s back sat a jockey, not much bigger than Wolf, wearing purple pants tucked into black boots, a long sleeve shirt of purple and bright green argyle, and a green riding cap. An aboriginal man with dull eyes, a flat nose, and turned down lips walked in front of the horse, holding onto its reins, leading it forward.
“Why, hello,” the horse replied with a sweet, feminine voice.
“Excited about the race?” Wolf asked as he walked along the railing, keeping pace with the horse’s slow gait.
“I am. I love to run fast. I don’t much like when the little man on top of me hits me with a stick and honestly I want to throw him off, but then I might not get the flower necklace, and I do like the way it smells,” the horse said.
“Does it hurt when he hits you?” asked Wolf.
“Not really. It’s just the principal of it.”
“It hurts when I get hit,” Wolf thought, “but it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. I think I’m getting tough skin, like you.”
“Hang in there. You’re just a colt, after all,” the racehorse said, her words of encouragement making Wolf smile, his grin carving dimples into his cheeks.
As the horse left the ring, she turned and pulled back her fatty lips, revealing two rows of crooked, yellowed teeth. Wolf waved goodbye and walked back to his dad who was circling something in his race book.
“Let’s go, kid. I think we’ve got ourselves a winner,” his father said, tapping the guide on his outer thigh and walking towards their mum who was waiting at the grandstand entrance. His mum stood with her lips pressed together, holding her handbag close to her chest. She removed her sunglasses, and Wolf noticed the eggplant-coloured circle that was like a halo around her right eye had begun to fade and was now just a shadow, making her look like she needed sleep.
They entered the corridor and found a betting booth, and Dad dropped one hundred dollars in race two for a horse called All Guns Blazing to win. After the bet, they went to buy food and drinks, and his dad ordered three lemon squash which Wolf found to be a pleasant surprise because it meant his dad wasn’t going to drink alcohol today.
“George?”
They all turned, and Mr. Shields was standing behind them.
“Shieldy. How ya going, mate?” his father replied, reaching out and cupping Mr. Shields broad shoulders with his hands.
“Good, mate. Hi Lizzie. Hey Wolf,” Mr. Shields said. “Just came down to place a few bets and see how I go. George, can I buy you a schooner?”
“No, no, not today, Shieldy. Keeping it light with the family,” he said, his words glib as he lifted a lemon squash in the air like a trophy.
“Good on ya. Let me place my bet and I’ll come join you if that’s alright? Where will you be?”
“Near the finish line. We’ll save you a spot,” his dad replied.
Wolf’s dad and Mr. Shields spent the rest of the day going back and forth between the betting booth and the track while Wolf and his mum stayed in their seats in the grandstand.
Five hundred dollars and seven races later, his father hadn’t won any money. However, on the last race of the day, race number eight, he dropped three hundred dollars on a longshot called Devil’s Fire, and the horse came in first, earning him eleven-hundred dollars.
“I think that about does it,” his father said, shoving his winnings into his wallet, a proud grin on his sunburned face.
“Good on ya, G
eorge,” said Mr. Shields. “Okay, I’ve gotta’ get home. Great seeing you all, and let’s get together soon. Lizzie, I’ll have Sandy give you a ring.”
“Fine, George,” Wolf’s mother replied, still holding her handbag tightly near her abdomen.
As Mr. Shields walked towards the exit, his dad said to his mum, “What do you think, Lizzie? Nice winnings today, eh?”
His mum’s face was pale as she replied, “George, thank goodness you won back that money. What if you hadn’t? Last month we could barely afford to pay the milkman.”
“Oh Lizzie, stop,” his father said. “Don’t get me riled up. Sometimes you have to go big to win big,” he finished, touching the jacket pocket that held his billfold.
Back at the Holden, they all got in, and Wolf slid onto the rear bench, cranking down the window. He rested his elbow on the ledge as his father started the car then joined the other automobiles exiting the parking lot. After ten minutes of sluggish driving, they finally reached the main road and drove the hour back to their town, and during the ride, Dad talked about what a good day it was, and Wolf thought how pleasant he was when he wasn’t drinking.
At dinner later that evening, his mum served meatloaf and mash, and afterward, Wolf took his bath, watched Skippy, the Bush Kangaroo, and went to bed, the low volume of the television in the loungeroom lulling him to sleep.
Chapter Thirty
The morning after race day, Wolf woke to a sliver of a moon so narrow that it barely cast any shadows in his room. As he crawled out of his bed, grabbing his torch so he could see in the morning darkness to pull his weed, he noticed Polly was nowhere in sight. When he got to the kitchen, he opened the door and aimed the beam of light onto the concrete path. As he looked at the ground shimmering with a thin frost, he spotted Aaron and the other ants hard at work, all marching in a single line on the pathway.
“G’day, Wolf,” Aaron yelled up to him, carrying something round above his head as the line of ants followed him from behind. “We have a lot to do today and had to get an early start, but I’ll see you later for training.”
“Yep. See ya,” Wolf whispered, watching the ants as they passed through the round circle of light created by his torch.
Unmotivated to step outside and into the cold, he decided to skip pulling a weed and shut the door, returning to the warmth of his bed.
Thirty minutes later, his mum nudged his shoulder, whispering to him that it was time to get up. He dressed in his school uniform, grabbed his backpack with his karate gi, and left his room.
In the kitchen, Wolf ate toast with butter and Vegemite, and just as he was finishing, Orville entered, still wearing his pyjamas.
“Hey, why’s he always leaving at sparrow’s fart? His class doesn’t start for another hour and a half,” his brother said, his nose wrinkled like something smelled foul.
“Wolf has something to do before school. Now, mind your own business and eat,” Wolf’s mum said, staring into Orville’s dark hazel eyes as she set two pieces of buttered toast in front of him.
“Uh huh, I bet he’s got something to do alright. He’s probably going to talk to animals or invisible people, or may-may-maybe he’s going to a gho-gho-ghost convention,” he mocked.
“Orville, that’s enough,” Wolf’s mum said sternly, wiping the counter.
Wolf grabbed his backpack from the breakfast bar and slid off the barstool. “Bye Mum. Bye dingbat,” he said, looking at Orville.
“Wolf, you stop it, too. Now go, and make sure you come home right after school.”
Wolf went outside and saw Aaron leaning against a blade of frozen grass wearing his red cricket cap and the karate gi Wolf had made for him several months earlier. Wolf had created Aaron’s gi from one of his father’s drab white handkerchief, cutting the fabric into two sections and using one piece for the top and the other for the pants. So Aaron’s four upper legs could move when he wore the top, Wolf had to make four pinpricks in the front for his legs to stick out, plus one extra pinprick in the center for his neck to slip through. Once Aaron had the handkerchief-gi over his head, the white fabric draped so loosely on his body that he had to use a piece of white string to cinch it at the waist. For the pants, Wolf folded the second piece of the handkerchief in half and stapled the sides together, making more of a long skirt than pants, and to keep the bottoms from falling to his feet, Aaron had to use another piece of string, tying it at his abdomen to tighten his pants at the waist.
With Aaron ready in his gi, Wolf put his index finger near the chilled blade of grass, letting Aaron take hold of his skin, and he took the ant to his red bike and put the tip of his finger inside the carrier, allowing him to crawl off. As Wolf peddled out of the yard, he waved at Koji in the vegetable garden. The Japanese ghost was sitting cross-legged on the dirt with a demure smile on his lips, his body glistening like ice crystals in the early-morning sunlight.
Today wasn’t the first time Aaron had gone to karate training with Wolf. The first time the ant went to training, Wolf asked his teacher if he could bring his bike into the backyard rather than leaving it on the front porch, and Master Kelly said yes. In the backyard, Wolf positioned his two-wheeler so that the carrier faced the dojo, and when the windows to the dojo were open, Aaron could see out of the Perspex window and into the training room so he could follow along with Wolf.
Aaron liked karate so much that every Friday before school, as well as on Saturday and Sunday, he went with Wolf to Master Kelly’s dojo and trained, mimicking everything Wolf did from inside the bike carrier. Also, on at least two days each week, Aaron practised with Wolf in his room. Wolf would sneak the ant into his bedroom and place him on a round, cork coaster that worked like a tatami mat, and then after he and Aaron bowed to each other, Wolf would begin practising, sliding, bending, kicking, and punching as Aaron mirrored his movements.
Today, when Wolf arrived at Master Kelly’s house with Aaron in the carrier, he positioned his bike to face the dojo, turned the dials on the combination lock, and went inside to change into his gi. When he was dressed, he left and walked to Master Kelly’s backdoor, knocking on arrival.
Master Kelly opened the door wearing his gi and black belt embroidered with six, gold bars. “Good morning, Kohai,” he said.
“Good morning, Sensei.”
“Come and watch me,” Master Kelly said, strolling towards the cherry blossom tree in the center of the yard. Underneath the branches, his teacher stood in front of the striking post, or makiwara, and assumed a proper stance. As Wolf observed him from a nearby wooden bench, his teacher began punching the post with his calloused knuckles before stopping suddenly and facing Wolf. “Kohai, as you promised you would do each day, did you pull your weed this morning?”
“Hai, Sensei,” Wolf lied.
“So, as promised, you have pulled a weed every day since we first met?
“Hai, Sensei,” Wolf answered, his voice wavering.
Master Kelly lowered his head and clasped his hands behind his back before turning, walking to his house, and disappearing inside.
Wolf sat on the bench for a few minutes, his stomach feeling sick with guilt, and he went and knocked on his teacher’s door, eager to tell the truth and apologise.
There was no answer.
He knocked a second time, this time louder, and again received no response. He tried again, this time pounding with the soft side of his fist, but the door remained shut as bile filled his throat, making him feel like he was going to vomit. Suddenly, he remembered something Master Kelly had told him about mistakes. “Kohai,” he recalled, hearing his teacher’s voice in his mind, “there is no such thing as right or wrong. There is only choice, and at every moment, you only have two choices. When you make your decision, you’ll know if it was right by the way you feel. If you know it wasn’t the right choice, make a different choice.”
With that thought still in his mind, Wolf returned to the dojo and spent the next hour training as Aaron copied his moves.
An hour l
ater, after Wolf had completed his practise and was about to take off his gi and change back into his regular clothes, he heard the backdoor of Master Kelly’s house open.
“Wolf, come to the cherry blossom tree,” his teacher said loudly.
Wolf’s shoulders slumped, his guilt weighing him down as he walked slowly from the dojo to the tree and stood in front of Master Kelly, his eyes aimed downward as the branches above shaded him from the sun.
“Wolf, you made a choice today to not pull a weed, and then you made another choice to lie to me. What do you think about the choices you’ve made?”
“They were dumb,” Wolf sighed, still looking down.
“Why?”
“Because I feel horrible, so that makes me know they were bad decisions. I should have picked the weed like I promised you, and never lied when I didn’t.”
“Your feelings are your gauge. If you don’t feel good when you’ve made a choice, then you’ve made a poor choice. So, what are your choices now?”
Wolf tilted his head, looked up at his teacher and replied, “You tell me that I always have two choices, and two choices only. So, my two choices now, I guess, are that I can choose to always tell the truth or choose to not always tell the truth.”
“Which do you choose?
“I like the way I feel when I tell the truth better than how I feel when I lie, especially when I get caught, so from now on, I choose to tell the truth.”
“Sounds like a wise decision,” Master Kelly said, placing his hand on Wolf’s shoulder. “I will see you tomorrow, Kohai.”
“Hai, Sensei. Thanks, and I’m sorry I lied. Now, I’m going to change out of my gi,” Wolf said, walking back to the dojo.
Several minutes later, Wolf returned to the yard wearing a plain, blue t-shirt and corduroys and noticed Master Kelly was gone. Wolf carried his backpack with his gi inside and went to his red bike. In the carrier, Aaron was sitting with his back against the Perspex wall, and when he saw Wolf above him, he yelled, “All set, mate? Can you still drop me back at home, or do I need to walk?”
She Named Me Wolf Page 15