When Dogs Cry Page 13

  Dad getting out of his panel van after work.

  Mrs Wolfe sleeping on the couch one night.

  An anonymous person struggling down our street when we had all that rain.

  Then of course, there was Octavia and me, Rube hitting the punching bag in the basement, and the death of Miffy sequence. Next came various photos of leftovers heating up in the kitchen, the lounge room wall which contained photos of all of us at different times, and there was even a picture of Steve on the street with his football bag, about to leave for a game.

  I noticed that the only thing missing was Sarah herself, so quietly, I took the camera, focused it and took a photo of my sister arranging each of the pictures for her album. I cut off her left shoulder a bit, but the main thing was that you could see the peace on her face, and her hands touching the photos. She looked alive.

  She examined it and gave it her approval. 'Not bad.'

  'I know,' and I left the room again, hoping that Sarah understood what had just happened. It was a small statement saying that I could see into her sometimes as well.

  The following Saturday, Octavia took me home. Dad took the day off so I was free.

  It was mid-afternoon when we walked down her street and through her front gate. I wondered why my pulse was racing as she opened the door and called out.

  'Ma? You there?'

  A lady came from a back room. Octavia told me she didn't have a father any more. He left, years ago, with someone else.

  The lady looked at me and smiled. She had the same mouth as Octavia and the same ocean-green eyes. Just older.

  'It's nice to meet you, Cameron,' she said.

  'Nice to meet you, Mrs Ash.'

  She was very friendly to me. She offered me coffee and talked. She asked me questions. About me. About the other Wolves. Somewhere between it all, I could tell she was thinking, So you're the one. I was the one Octavia knew she loved. No better feeling had ever lived in me.

  A bit later, we went back down to the old movie theatre and saw a movie called The Agony and the Ecstasy. It was, without doubt, the best movie I had ever seen in my life. It was about Michelangelo painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and how it had to be perfect and how he nearly destroyed himself in the process of doing it. I thought about how much suffering he went through, purely because he had to. I sat there in awe. That had never happened to me before in a movie.

  Even when the credits were flashing through the screen, my hand gripped Octavia's, and we sat completely still.

  It was later though when the true importance of that day arrived.

  Octavia and I were on the porch, just before we headed to the station, still talking about the movie. The city was covered in cloud and the pale shades of rain formed glowing blankets around the streetlights.

  We were talking for nearly half an hour when she asked, 'Is there anything you ever wanted to do perfectly?'

  I concentrated on the rain, which started falling harder, and I knew now what I was going to say. It stretched through me, and I said it quietly.

  I said, 'Something I'd like to be perfect at?' but now I couldn't help but look away.

  'Loving you,' I said. The words climbed from my mouth. 'I'd want to be perfect at loving you.'

  I waited then, for a reaction.

  It came.

  'Cam?' she asked. 'Cameron?'

  She made me look at her and I could see the feeling rising in her. I pulled her hand up to my mouth and kissed it. 'It's true,' I said, though I knew she believed it. It was in me, and all over me.

  'The only thing is,' I went on, 'I'm only human. I'll just do the best I can, okay?'

  Octavia nodded, and although we knew she had to go, we stayed on the porch for a fair while, using the rain as an excuse. The shell still dangled from her neck, but now it didn't look as obvious as it did at first. Now it looked like it had always been there.

  On Sunday afternoon we arrived home from the quay and everyone had already left for Steve's game. I figured we could walk up there later.

  It was Octavia, and me.

  We waited.

  We talked.

  We waited a bit longer, and sooner than I thought, she took me by the hand and we went to Rube's and my room. We shut the door. We shut the curtains.

  In there, I sat on the bed and Octavia crouched down and took off her shoes. There were no words as she stood up and came over to me.

  Looking at me, she unbuttoned her shirt. Her hands went around to her back and she undid herself. The underwear dropped to the floor, and next, I heard the button of her jeans come undone. Then the zip. She stepped away, bent down with them and stepped out, left foot first, some imbalance, then the right. The jeans stayed on the ground and I could only take in all of her loveliness.

  She kneeled over me, taking my jacket off, then undoing my flanno shirt.

  Her hands stroked down the nakedness of my stomach and went up to my arms as she took off my shirt. She let her fingernails run over the skin of my neck, and slowly, they made their way down my chest, my ribcage, back to my stomach.

  She whispered, 'It's all right Cam,' and when the shivers stretched out across my skin, she gently undid my pants and took them off me. The shoes went with them and then the socks. It was all in a ruffled pile next to us when Octavia laid me down on the floor. 'It's all right,' she whispered again.

  'How can--'

  'Shhh . . . '

  Her voice was soothing, but I had to finish what I was going to ask. 'How can you do this with me when another bloke hit you and hurt you? How can you bare to be naked and have me touch you?'

  Octavia stopped.

  She spoke.

  'You're you,' she said.

  She kissed me and touched me and held me. She covered me and ran her lips across my body and I had never felt a room spin and curl and turn to waves like the room did that day.

  perfection

  We move out to an open field where the sky becomes the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

  We stand under it.

  Perfection.

  And I wonder how it would feel to touch it.

  How would it feel to touch something that was done as perfectly as a human could ever hope to do? Where would you go from there? What would be left to see?

  Would you be inspired?

  Or would you be depressed in knowing that you could never hope to complete anything that came close?

  We stand there and the darkness returns.

  Then, for just a moment, the sky is made of Octavia Ash and me.

  For a human second.

  Then gone.

  It makes me think that I'd like to love her perfectly.

  To give all of myself.

  Or at least, as best as a human like me can do.

  19

  IN A WAY, SOMETIMES I WISH THESE PAGES DIDN'T GO further than the final words of that last chapter, but winter wasn't quite over yet.

  It was the next Tuesday night when Rube and I went up to Steve's and then on to the oval. We all had shots at goal now and even though I missed most of the time, it didn't really matter. Steve was as accurate as always, and he was looking forward to the finals.

  Before we went up there, Rube had another phone call. It was the first one in a while and I heard him speaking loudly, forcefully.

  'Yeah, that's what you said last time, mate. You ain't showin' up. You're wastin' my time, and your ma's phone bill by the sounds of it.' He listened a moment. 'Well just pay me the bloody courtesy of being there this time. Okay? Right. Good.'

  I'd walked into the kitchen just as he was hanging up.

  'Again?' I asked.

  'Yeah.'

  That night, we spoke across the room. We hadn't done that for a while, and it felt good. Eventually, we got onto the subject of Julia the Scrubber and the Phonecaller.

  'Eight o'clock Friday,' was what Rube told me in the dark. 'If he shows.'

  'He'll show,' I said.

  'How do y' know?'

  'I don't. I
t just sounds like he's been tryin' to make you sweat a long time, but sooner or later, he'll come after you. This Friday might be it.' I remembered that girl. Julia. I didn't trust her. There was no way Rube would be left alone. They'd be coming for him for sure. 'I think this time it'll happen.'

  'Well, we'll see.'

  'You need me there?'

  'If y' want.'

  'I want.'

  That was all there was to it.

  We both fought the bag in the basement the next night and I got myself used to the idea it was going to happen.

  When the Friday came, Rube's knuckles were like concrete, and mine were hardened as well from hitting the bag. We left the house just like the previous time, at quarter to eight.

  We arrived at the old train yard early.

  We waited.

  My heart wounded my ribs.

  And again.

  There was nothing.

  By quarter past eight I decided to leave.

  Halfway up the alley, I knew my footsteps were alone. Rube was waiting there and I don't think he was leaving until the guy had shown up.

  'You're not comin'?' I turned around and asked him.

  He shook his head. 'Not this time.'

  I stepped back towards him and said, 'You want me to wait?'

  He shook his head and waved me away. 'Don't worry about it Cam. I think you've been down here enough.'

  I turned around, and I admit it, I wasn't unhappy to be leaving. Sure, there was some guilt in me as well, but this was the end for me. At the top of the alley, just before I turned onto the street, I swivelled one last time to have a look at my brother. His shadow was leaning against the fence, still waiting. One of his feet was up against the wire and I could just make out his warm breath going smoky in the last night air of winter. For a moment, I nearly waved, but I turned and kept walking.

  When I made it home, Sarah asked where Rube was. I told her he decided to stay out for a while. It wasn't unusual so nothing more was said.

  I tried to stay up and wait for him.

  The book I was reading was good but I fell asleep on the couch anyway. When everyone else went to bed, they woke me and told me to go as well, but I tried reading again. I was too tired though, and I was determined to see Rube come walking in the front door.

  I wanted to see his face.

  Unmarked.

  Unbruised.

  I wanted to hear his voice tell me to get up as he laughed on his way past me.

  But that night, my brother Rube didn't come home.

  It was just past midnight when I woke up with a silent start. My eyes opened and the yellow light from the lounge room sliced me through the eyes.

  I was hit twice by a thought.

  Rube.

  Rube.

  His name was repeated in me as I scissored off the couch and walked slowly into our room. I was hoping against hope that he would be in there, sprawled out across the bed. The darkness of the hall captured me. The creaking floorboards gave me away. Then, as the door crept open, I sent my eyes into the room, ahead of me. It was empty.

  I turned the light on and shivered. It blinded me and I realised. I was going back out, to the night.

  In the lounge room, I pulled my shoes on as quiet as possible, slipped my jacket back on and headed for the kitchen, towards the front door. A pale light from the moon was numb in the sky. I was out in the uncertain coldness of the street.

  A bad feeling intensified in my stomach.

  It made its way to my throat.

  Soon, as I walked fast to the old train yard, I could feel it gathering on its way through me. There were drunk people who made me edge out onto the road. Cars sped towards me with the brightness of their lights, then passed and faded away.

  My hands sweated inside my jacket pockets. My feet were cold inside the warmth of my shoes.

  'Hey boy,' a voice slung out to me. I avoided it. I pushed past the guy who said it and broke into a run and had the alley in sight.

  When I made it there, I could feel my heartbeat ripping me open.

  The alley.

  Was empty.

  It was empty and dark except for the widening light of the moon that seemed to spray down on each forgotten corner of the city. I could smell something. Fear.

  I could taste it now.

  It tasted like blood in my mouth, and I could feel it slide through me and open me up when I saw him . . .

  There was a figure sitting down, crooked, against the fence.

  Something told me Rube didn't sit like that.

  I called his name, but I could barely hear it. There was a giant pounding in my ears that kept everything else out.

  Again, I called. 'Rube!?'

  The closer I got, the more I knew it was him. My brother was slumped against the fence and I could see the blood flooding his jacket, his jeans, and the front of his old football jersey.

  His hands gripped the fence.

  The look on his face was something I'd never seen on him before.

  I knew what it was because I was feeling it myself.

  It was the fear.

  It was fear and Ruben Wolfe had never been afraid of anything or anyone in his life, until now. Now he was sitting alone in the city and I knew that one person alone couldn't have done this to him. I imagined them holding him down and taking turns. His face almost made its way into a smile when he saw me, and like a breeze through the silence, he said to me blankly: 'Hey Cam. Thanks for comin'.'

  The pulse in my ears subsided and I crouched down to my brother.

  I could tell he'd dragged himself to this position on the fence. There was a small trail of blood smeared to a rusty colour on the cement. It looked like he'd climbed two yards when it was too much and he couldn't go on. I had never seen Ruben Wolfe defeated.

  'Well,' he shuddered, 'I guess they got me good, huh?'

  I had to get him home. He was shivering uncontrollably. 'Can you get up?'

  He smiled again. 'Of course.'

  Rube still had that smile perched on his lips when he staggered up the fence and collapsed. I caught him and held him up. He slipped through me and fell face down, holding onto the road.

  The city was swollen. The sky was still numb.

  Ruben Wolfe was face down on the road with his brother standing there, helpless and afraid, next to him.

  'You've gotta help me Cam,' he said. 'I can't move.' He pleaded with me. 'I can't move.'

  I turned him over and saw the concussion that surrounded him. There wasn't as much blood as I'd originally thought, but his face was brutalised by the night sky that fell on him and made him real.

  I dragged him back to the fence, propped him up and lifted him. Again, he nearly collapsed, and when we started walking, I knew he wasn't going to make it.

  'I'm sorry Cam,' he whispered. 'I'm so sorry.'

  He was on the ground again and we'd only travelled about five metres.

  I rested for a minute as my brother continued lying on his back . . .

  As the moon was swallowed by a cloud, I slid my arms beneath his back and legs and picked him up. I was holding Rube in my arms and carried him up the alley and onto the wider world of the street.

  My arms ached and I think Rube fell unconscious, but I couldn't rest. I couldn't put him down. I had to make it home.

  People watched us.

  Rube's tough curly hair hung down towards the ground.

  Some extra blood landed on the footpath. It dripped from Rube onto me and then onto the path.

  It was Rube's blood.

  It was my blood.

  Wolfes' blood.

  There was a hurt somewhere far down inside me, but I walked on. I had to. I knew that if I stopped carrying him it would be harder to keep going.

  'Is he all right?' a young party-going sort of guy asked. I could only nod and continue walking. I wouldn't stop until Rube was in his bed and I was standing over him, protecting him from the night, and from the dreams that would wake him in the trampling h
ours until morning.

  The last turn onto our street finally came and I lifted him in one last effort.

  He moaned.

  'Come on Rube,' I said. 'We're gonna make it,' and when I think about it now, I don't understand how I made it that far. He was my brother. Yes, that was it. He was my brother.

  At our gate, I used one of Rube's feet to free the latch and walked up the porch steps.

  'The door,' I said, louder than I'd wanted to, and after putting him down on the porch, I opened the flyscreen, got my key in, and turned back to face him. My brother. My brother Rube, I thought, and my eyes ached.

  As I walked back towards him, my arms throbbed, and my spine climbed my back. When I picked him up again, we nearly fell together into the wall.

  On the way through the house, I managed to jam one of Rube's knees into a door frame, and by the time I got us into our room, Sarah was standing there, sleepy-eyed until terror strangled her face.

  'What the hell--'

  'Quiet,' I said. 'Just help me.'

  She stripped the blanket off Rube's bed and I placed him down on it. My arms were on fire as I took his jacket and jersey off, leaving him in his jeans and boots.

  He was cut up and badly bruised. A few ribs looked broken and one of his eyes was pitch black. Even his knuckles were bleeding. He got a few good ones in, I thought, but all of that meant nothing now.

  We stood there. Sarah looked from Rube to me, recognising his blood on the arms of my jacket. She cried.

  The light was off now but the hall light was on.

  We could feel someone else arrive and I knew it was Mrs Wolfe. Without even looking, I could picture the hurt expression on her face.

  'He'll be okay,' I managed to say, but she didn't leave. She came towards us as Rube's voice fought its way next to me.

  His hand came out from under the blanket and held on to mine.

  'Thanks,' he said. 'Thanks brother.'

  The pale light hit me from the window. My heart howled.

  the eyes have it

  I crouch down, with tired arms and eyes and legs.

  Silently, the dog pleads with me to come a little further. His head still hangs and his breath is visible in the last dark air before the dawn.

  As we walk the street, the sky turns the pistol-grey of first light.

  At the end of the road, someone waits, and I know who it is. He wears the same clothes as me and holds his hands inside his pockets, like me. He waits.

  When the dog sits, I touch him for the first time--that rough, rusty fur, still reaching defiantly for the sky. I love the force of it on my fingers. Feeling the truth of it.