When Dogs Cry (15 page)

‘I'd say so,' she said contently, ‘. . . but things are different now.'

‘They are,' I replied, and we walked on.

Even later in the night, when I called her, I was told again how much things had changed. I called her up in our old empty kitchen, and when she answered, there were hardly any words. All Octavia said was, ‘Just hang on Cam. Wait.'

I could hear her put the receiver down and walk away.

‘Hello?' I asked.

Nothing.

‘Hello?'

Then it arrived in my ear.

She was walking around the room at the other end, and when the music started, I pushed the phone harder to my face.

The harmonica howled like always. It moved through a song I hadn't heard before, and it was one of the most brilliant things I'd ever heard in my life. It sang through the line and I imagined her playing in the dark. The song climbed up and fell down, taking me with it, and feeling opened me up . . .

Have you ever felt like falling to your knees in your kitchen?

That was how it felt to hear the music of that girl.

 

if her soul should leak

Dark streets.

The dog's always waiting to lead me straight back into the dark streets.

In front of us, we see a girl, walking along the road.

I run, going ahead of the dog for the first time.

She turns a corner, but when I make it around she's gone.

The dog arrives and we stand together at a wall.

‘I love that girl,' I want to say, but don't. I know the dog's here to guide me and nothing else.

We stand there and I know that I know very little.

I don't know
how
these streets will turn, or why.

I don't know if I can last the fight of this night.

There's only one thing I know.

It's about the girl, and it's this:

If her soul ever leaks, I want it to land on me.

I
COULD HEAR IT AGAIN, DOWN IN THE BASEMENT.
R
UBE'S
fists were launching into the bag. He was looking forward to the fight.

It was Tuesday night, and for a while, I went down and watched. He didn't even notice me until he finished. His bare hands hammered the bag and his breathing was hot, like steam exiting his mouth. Looking at him in his jeans and his singlet, I understood why girls like him so much. He was athletic, and every muscle was well-defined. Not big or bulky. Just right. His sandy brown hair fell into his face, and his eyes weren't so much a colour. They were eyes like stomped-out fire.

His hands were down on his knees when he noticed me watching. He was breathing heavily.

‘Lookin' good,' I said, walking down the cement-cold steps.

‘Thanks.'

He stood up and noticed some drops of blood on his fingers. It didn't matter, because to Rube, it only meant that his hands were conditioned for the fight. They'd be used to the pain and the nakedness. Raw hand hitting raw face.

‘You want a hit?' he offered, but I declined. ‘Why not? You can fight well on your day.'

‘Nah, I'll be right.'

I was about to leave when Rube called out, ‘Hey Cam.' He looked up at me from the basement floor. ‘I think I'm about done with that Julia girl, ay.'

I was surprised. ‘Really? Why?'

‘Look at me!' He held his hands out in front of him, palms up. ‘There's a bloke out there with a vendetta on me because of her.' He looked at himself. At his chest, his stomach, his feet. I could tell he knew the irony of this situation. Still though, he stated, ‘She's more bloody trouble than she's worth.'

My feet took me back down to the floor. I had to ask him something.

‘So have you got someone else lined up?'

‘No.'

He shook his head, then sent his eyes towards the wall. ‘I think I might have learned my lesson this time,' and together, we walked back up to the house.

‘You still comin' this Saturday night?' he asked a few hours later. ‘For the fight?' We were in our room, the light already out.

The darkness of the room enveloped me as I answered. ‘Of course.'

‘Thanks.' Rube was sounding sharp. Ready. ‘I don't trust this bloke.'

‘You got anyone else showin' up?' I asked. ‘In case the other guy decides to use help?'

‘No.' I could vaguely see Rube's face in the dark. Splinters of light from the window gathered across his face. ‘I've never relied on other people before and I'm not starting now.' He raised himself onto his elbow. ‘With you, it's different. You're my brother.' That was enough said. He could have gone on to say something like, ‘And that's what brothers do,' or ‘I'd do the same if it was the other way round,' but there was no need. The conversation was over. All there was now was the darkness.

I guess brothers is brothers.

That's all.

On Thursday afternoon, I took a trip down to Octavia's, waiting outside the house. That was usually the way it worked. We would always see each other on the weekend, and maybe once or twice during the week. It was rare for us to ring. Personally, I didn't like talking on the phone. It made me nervous, uncomfortable. I didn't know what Octavia's reason was. Maybe she didn't like the idea that talking endlessly on the phone was something girls her age were supposed to do. Octavia wasn't a typical girl.

She came out after about fifteen minutes.

Like always, we went to the park, and we sat against the tree. She was waiting. For me.

Her legs were out straight when I got up and kneeled down, one knee either side of her. I kissed the skin of her
cheek. I kissed her mouth and the side of her neck, gently biting her.

She whispered, ‘Don't stop,' and she tilted her head away to expose her neck fully, and I did it both sides and moved the collar of her school shirt away to put my mouth on the bridges leading to her shoulders. I ran my hands through her hair.

‘What do you want me to do?' I asked, but all she did at first was pull me closer.

‘Just don't stop,' she said. ‘Kiss me again.'

The warmth of her breath showered through me. I took her in. She had me.

My skin felt torn, as it all reached higher and her mouth kept breathing through mine. It was rough and warm and it shouted through my mouth. Always taking me. Always wanting more.

Wanting more.

That was the best part, I think. She didn't push me away or turn away like I expected. The way she always wanted more of me was what staggered me the most. When her mouth took hold of my neck, my whole body shivered from the feeling of it. Her hand was under my shirt. Her fingers scattered over my ribs and finished at my stomach, stroking me as her lips kissed my neck and my face.

At the end she kissed my lips lightly, letting them slowly sink in.

She rested her head on my shoulder and I could tell she was comfortable. It felt good that I could make her feel that way.

There was quiet for a while and I could hear trains pulling in and out of the station. Limping in. Getting going again.

We talked about Rube's upcoming confrontation.

‘You're going with him,' she asked, ‘aren't you?' Her head was still resting on my shoulder. Sometimes her nose touched my jaw-line, making me shiver again.

‘I have to,' I admitted. ‘He's my brother.'

She just stayed there then and the clouds were cracked across the sky. There was no point trying to talk me out of it. She knew that, so she didn't try. All she did was say, ‘Try to make sure you don't get hurt.' I felt her eyes look up at my face. ‘Okay?'

I nodded. ‘I promise.'

She smiled, I could feel it, and she kissed my neck again, softly.

We walked back after quite a while, and when I left her at the gate, she stopped me from leaving.

‘Hey Cam?' she said. The time had come. She was hesitating. ‘Do you think you might want to come inside sometime?'

‘In there?' I asked, looking at the house.

‘Yeah . . .'

I remembered Rube's words about how he'd never even got close to going in, and I wondered why it was such a big deal, and why it was so important to me. I mean, it was just a house, for Jesus' sake.

But it was more than that. Octavia told me why.

She said, ‘Before you, Cam, and before Rube, I had this one guy who hurt me in there. He sort of hit me
when I didn't, you know . . .' Her hands tightened on the gate. ‘And I promised my ma that I'd never bring anyone in the house that I didn't love with every single piece inside me.' She smiled, but she was hurting too. ‘So soon, okay?'

‘Okay,' and I held her at the gate. I almost said how sorry I was for what had happened to her, and that I could never hurt her like that. Somehow, though, I knew. This was enough. Her and me, and the gate.

That night Rube was at it again in the basement, and this time I accepted his invitation to punch the bag.

It was part elation for how I felt about Octavia, part anger for what had happened to her, and part nerves for Saturday night.

The next day shifted past.

Work with Dad on Saturday was a giant pause, waiting, even though Rube was perfectly calm.

We got ready together in our room, when it was about seven-thirty. I put on my oldest jeans, my work flanno and my old spray jacket. I dispensed with my gymmies and put boots on. They were a pair I'd inherited from Rube and as I sat against the wall, doing them up tight, I looked over and Rube was staring into the mirror. He was telling himself what to do. Eyeing himself off.

I stood up. ‘Ready?'

He said nothing.

He only turned around, grabbed his jacket and nodded. It was the most serious he'd looked in months.

We walked out of the house, and since Rube had previously announced that we were going to a friend's
place, there were no problems. The front gate came and went quickly, and we hit the street hard. Rube was hyped up and his face was hardened. The cold night air seemed to get out of his way, and so did people walking in the opposite direction.

It was about five minutes to eight when we got there, and all we had to do now was wait. The yard was full of old wrecked train carriages, standing around in the dark. Their windows were smashed, and stolen words were written across them like scars. There was a tall wire fence that cordoned off the yard from the street, and we leaned against it, waiting.

Thoughts passed.

Minutes passed.

Some figures started loitering around the tops of an alley and they looked like they were coming our way.

‘Is that them?' I asked.

Rube's face hardened even more. ‘Let's hope so.'

The shadows moved closer and adrenaline shot me down. This was it.

 

the tunnel

We arrive at a tunnel and enter. It goes down deep, to the core of everything we are. The floor is stained with humanness, and as we move across it, I begin to see the end.

A hole seems to be cut in the distance, and I know that's where we'll break through to the other side.

I feel my fists tighten.

My breath lunges out of my mouth, into the face of darkness that surrounds us.

I'm getting ready, even throwing a gentle punch to the air.

We approach the other side, and in the space just beyond the tunnel's mouth, I see a shadow, leaning against a wire-woven fence. His fingers hold on to the wire, clenched tight.

Walk forward,
I tell myself, and after meeting the dog's burning eyes, I do.

I walk out and see the arms of the city spreading far and wide as the shadow remains still.

The night air slaps me.

It smells like brothers.

T
HE SHADOWS TURNED INTO HUMANS AND THERE WERE
three of them, walking towards us. They wore scowls and jackets.

‘Which one of you's Rube?' the one in the middle, the biggest one, asked. His voice was clear and violent, and he spat down towards our feet, almost smiling at how close it came to hitting us.

Rube stepped forward. ‘Me.'

‘People say you fight as good as anyone, but you don't look so bloody brilliant to me.'

‘Well, that's a matter of opinion, isn't it?' Rube responded amiably. ‘And anyway, we haven't done anything yet—you can decide when we're finished.'

‘Fair enough.'

The other guy began to say something else then, but it was too late.

Rube had him by the throat and threw him against the
wire fence, following it with a handful of fists that cut him up straight away. He tried to duck my brother's hands, but Rube was too fast and each time he found the mark. Blood splashed to the ground and the two blokes who'd come along for moral support were getting jumpy. Even Rube noticed it, and in between the punches, he stated to them calmly, ‘Don't even think about it.'

That was when he missed his first punch and the other bloke managed to slip away, dragging himself up the fence.

Rube could have gone after him but chose instead to stand a few feet away and ask a question or two. I'd seen him do this a hundred times before. The way he saw it, he was giving them a chance to get away before it all became too drastic. Some took it. Some didn't.

‘So what's your name, anyway?' he asked.

‘Jarrod.' The answer fell from his mouth along with the blood.

‘Well Jarrod, you look to be in a pretty bad state there. Have you had enough?

Unfortunately for Jarrod, he hadn't, and when he got up and moved in at Rube, it was almost frightening how fast my brother lashed his ribs and smashed his face again. The sound of Jarrod hitting the fence rattled while the broken trains seemed to watch forlornly from the other side.