When Dogs Cry (13 page)

Favourite item of clothing: ‘Easy. The shell.'

Favourite human invention: ‘Bridges. It's a mystery to me how they ever get the pylons drilled under the water.'

Worst moment in her life: ‘No comment.'

Best moment: ‘A close one. It'd have to be either asking Cameron Wolfe to stand outside my house, or kneeling down with him by the harbour, throwing away all self-doubt and putting my mouth on his.'

Favourite drink: ‘None.'

Favourite sound: ‘Teeth colliding in an empty cinema.' (I was glad she recognised it too.)

Biggest disappointment: ‘I'll tell you soon.'

When the next train came in, she said, ‘I've gotta get onto this one,' and when she leaned out the door touching my sleeve for a last moment, she started to say something, but the doors shut.

‘This,' she called through the window. ‘This is my biggest disappointment.'

It was mine, too, even though she'd told me before the movie that tomorrow she'd be at the same place as last week, playing that harmonica and making money . . .

When the train was gone, I waited a while, then walked for the escalator, Elizabeth Street, and home.

There were no questions when I got there, but everyone seemed to assume it went okay. Smiles kept escaping from my face. Escaping all the time.

Again, I couldn't sleep.

The night was Octavia.

At times, thoughts of Steve awoke in my mind as well, and also the rest of the Wolfe family. Mainly Steve though. I wasn't angry at him for what had happened during the week, and I wanted to go up and see him the next day, before I went down the harbour.

In the morning, I ate and went up there. I didn't have to ring the buzzer because he and Sal were out on the balcony. He didn't call me up. Instead, he disappeared and came down to meet me. It was a gesture, I guess. He was coming to me.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him.

‘Where you on at today?' I asked.

Steve looked up at the balcony, but he didn't answer my question. He said, ‘Thanks.' It was a
Thanks for not hating me.

He offered me breakfast but I didn't accept. When I left, I moved out from under the balconies and called up to Sal, ‘I'll see y' later.'

‘I might come up tomorrow or Tuesday,' I suggested to Steve. ‘Maybe we can go up to the oval.'

‘All right,' he replied, and we went our own ways.

When I was nearly gone, I heard his voice call out one last time.

‘Hey Cam! Cam!'

He came towards me until he was about ten yards away. Talking distance. He said, ‘I didn't expect you to come up here, at least not this soon.'

‘Well,' I unzipped my jacket. ‘You beat four guys up, one by one. I guess I forgave my brother for calling me a lost cause. It doesn't make that much difference really, does it?'

‘I would have hated you forever,' he admitted.

I only shook my head. ‘It doesn't matter Steve. I'll see y' soon.'

At the quay this time, I stepped off the train without trepidation. All my thoughts leaned towards the sight and sound of Octavia, and from the platform, I looked down into the distance to see the people surrounding her, watching, listening, and taking in the music that flowed from her.

When I saw her, I moved fast, but once I made it, I didn't approach the crowd that was gathered around, or at least, not directly. I moved more to the side and just sat there, listening. The howling voice of her mouth organ reached me.

‘Poor show,' she said, once she'd finished up and found me. She'd crouched down and was holding me from behind. ‘Only forty-eight sixty,' she explained. The words brushed past my ear. ‘Not too bad all the same though. Come on Cam, let's go.'

I moved to go back down to the bridge, but she didn't come. Not today. She said, ‘You feel like getting high?'

‘High?' I asked.

‘Yeah.' She smiled in a dangerous, self-mocking way, and I only began to understand why when we headed back towards the middle of the city, to the tower. Inside, I went to pay, but she wouldn't let me.

‘It was my idea,' she pointed out, pushing my money back to my pocket. ‘I brought you here. I'm taking you up . . . And besides. You paid for the movie last night.'

We entered the lift and it took us right to the top, with some American golf-pro looking types, and a family on a Sunday outing. One of the kids kept stepping on my foot.

‘Little bastard,' I felt like saying. If I was with Rube I probably would have, but with Octavia, I only looked at her and implied it. She nodded back as if to say, ‘Exactly.'

Once up there, we walked around the whole floor and I couldn't help but look for my own house, imagining what was happening there, and hoping, even praying, that everything was going okay. That extended to include everyone down there, as far as I could see, and as I always do when I pray to a God I wouldn't have a clue about, I stood there, lightly beating at my heart, without even thinking.

Especially this girl though,
I prayed.
Let her be okay, God. All right? All right God?

That was when Octavia noticed my fist lightly touching my heart. There was no answer from God. There was a question from the girl.

She asked, ‘What are you doing?' I could feel the curiosity of her eyes on my face. ‘Cameron?'

I stayed focused on the city sprawled out beneath us. ‘Just, sort of prayin' y' know?'

‘For what?'

‘You.' I stopped, continued. Almost laughed. ‘And I haven't been in a church for nearly seven years . . .'

We stayed up there for over an hour, and Octavia told me some more about herself.

Very few friends.

Time spent on trains.

She told me about how one time her harmonica was stolen in school and she found it in the toilet.

She was just telling me who she was, and I guess, why she would come up to a place like this.

‘I come up here a fair bit,' she told me. ‘I like it. I like the height.' She even climbed to the carpeted step at the window and stood there, leaning forward onto the glass. ‘You comin' up?' she asked, and I'll be honest—I tried, but no matter how much I wanted to lean forward onto that glass, I couldn't. I kept feeling like I was going to fall through.

So I sat there.

Only for a few seconds.

Then she came back down and saw that I wasn't doing too well.

‘I wanted to,' I said.

‘It's okay Cam.'

The thing was, I knew there was something I had to ask, and I did it. I even promised myself that this would
be the last time I asked a question like this, even though I could never be sure I wouldn't.

I said, ‘Octavia?' I kept hearing her telling me that she came up here all the time. I heard it when I spoke the words, ‘Did you bring Rube up here too?'

Slowly, she nodded.

‘But he leaned on the glass,' I answered my own next question. ‘Didn't he?'

Again, she nodded. ‘Yeah.'

I don't know why, but it seemed important. It
was
important. I felt like a failure because my older brother leaned on the glass and I couldn't. It made me feel hopeless in some way. Like I wasn't even half the guy he was.

All because he leaned on glass and I didn't.

All because he had the neck and I didn't.

All because . . .

‘That doesn't mean anything.' She shot down my thoughts. ‘Not to me.' She thought for a moment and then faced me. ‘He leaned on the window, but he never made me feel like you do. Before you, I felt like I was only really alive when I played my harmonica. Now though, it's like . . .' She struggled not to explain it, but to actually say it. ‘When I'm with you, I feel like I'm outside myself.' She finished me. ‘I don't want Rube. I don't want anyone else.' Her eyes ate me, quietly. ‘I want you.'

I looked.

Down.

At my shoes, then back up, at Octavia Ash.

I went to say ‘Thanks,' but she stopped me by pushing her fingers up to my mouth.

‘Always remember that,' she spoke. ‘All right?'

I nodded.

‘Say it.'

‘All right,' I said, and her cool hands touched me on my neck, my shoulder, my face.

 

broken glass

We arrive at a glass screen, high up in the darkness.

As we move towards it, I know what I have to do. The dog steps back and slowly, ominously, I lean forward onto the glass. Shaking.

For a while, I just look down, seeing for the first time a smooth haze below. It shimmers and ripples, growing brighter with each passing moment.

For a while, the glass is strong, but soon enough, the inevitable happens.

It cracks.

It comes apart and falls open.

Momentum pushes me out and I'm being dragged to earth at a speed beyond my imagination.

I see the width of the world.

The further I fall, the faster it turns, and around me, I see visions of everyone and everything I know. There's Rube and Steve, Sal, Sarah, Dad and Mrs Wolfe, and Julia the Scrubber, looking seductive. Even the barber's there, chopping hair that showers down around me.

I think only one thing.

Where's Octavia?

As I get closer to the bottom, I notice that it's water I'm falling into. It's ocean green and smooth, until . . .

I'm driven through the surface and go deeper. I'm surrounded.

I'm drowning,
I think.
I'm drowning.

But I'm smiling too.

‘A
RE YOU GONNA TURN THAT LIGHT OFF SOME TIME
tonight?' Rube asked when I was still halfway through writing. It was just past eleven-thirty that Sunday night.

‘Soon,' I said.

‘Hurry up.'

Right after I finished and went to bed, the rest of the afternoon wandered through my thoughts. As was often the case in bed, I could see my life painted across the ceiling.

After we went down from the tower, Octavia came back to our place. We played cards with Sarah, and even Dad and Mrs Wolfe sat in for a round. Dad won of course, but all in all, it was a good afternoon. I spotted that card again with the cornflake stuck on it. It was the Queen of Spades.

When Octavia was about to leave, Mrs Wolfe invited her to stay. ‘For dinner,' she said.

Octavia didn't though. Maybe it was because she'd heard about Mrs Wolfe's food, but I think it was more the fact that she had to get home.

‘Thanks anyway,' she said, and we went down to the station.

What I didn't know was that when we went out the front door, Sarah managed to get another shot of us on her polaroid, through the flyscreen door. Earlier, she took a few shots while we were playing cards. None were posed. She just took them as we were, and she gave one to Octavia to take home. It was nothing too special. We were each just holding our cards, but our legs were joined at the knees, and looking closer, you could tell Octavia was about to say something. Personally, I didn't look too good because my eyes were half-shut and my hair looked electric. Octavia liked it though, and Sarah made her take it.

When I made it home from the station, I walked Miffy, and once I'd come back again, I found that other photo on my pillow—the one Sarah took as we were leaving. And this one was good. It was great.

Through the slightly torn flyscreen door, you could see both Octavia and me from behind. Our hands touched as we walked towards the sagging gate and the street. The light burst between us except for where the hands met, and when I found it in my room, I went straight back out to see Sarah.

‘Thank you,' I said, and I didn't hold the photo in my hand or even mention it. She knew.

I put it in my drawer in the same place I'd decided to
put my writing, and before I went to bed, I kissed the girl all over, till I could see the print of my lips on the photo.

In bed, I realised that Octavia had told me many things that weekend, but the main things I'd been wondering about still remained a mystery.

The house.

Her family.

She never mentioned them once.

I had no idea if she had brothers or sisters, but then again, even a few months ago, when she was with Rube, I always assumed she didn't have any. It was never mentioned or talked about. Now there was the harmonica, the height of the tower, and a lot of other things, but I still had no idea where she came from.

For a moment, I felt like waking Rube and asking a few questions, but having already complained about the light, I didn't think he'd appreciate it if I started talking to him. Besides, I hadn't forgotten that Rube was experiencing a few problems of his own. I was contemplating what the end result of all those phone calls would be. I only knew that something violent was ready to happen, and probably for the first time ever with Rube, I wasn't sure what the outcome would be. In the past, I always knew my brother would be the one standing at the end. This time I wasn't sure. I could only wait and see.

Eventually, my tiredness wore me down and I slept hard.

The next day the phone rang a lot, as it did all week. By Thursday, Rube was picking it up and slinging it back down the moment he had it in his hand.

We went up to Steve's one night, but not much went on really. Just shots at goal, black coffee and conversation that revolved around football, family and a joke here and there.

On the way back, Rube stopped and we kind of sat together on the gutter. It felt like we hadn't talked for a while, and I waited for him to speak.

After maybe five minutes, he said, ‘Whoever this guy is, he's really gunnin' for me.'

‘Did you ask what's-her-name about him?'

‘Julia?'

‘Yeah.'

‘She reckons he isn't the brightest spark, and that he's got way too much time and a lot of friends.'