Lonesome Howl (8 page)

Are we going to look for her?

Call the cops?

Get a search party?

Wow. That'd be really cool.

She won't be able to hide

from no search party.

We can get the dogs

to sniff her clothes.

They'll lead us right to her.

What do you think, Mum?

It's pretty late.

We don't have to go out in the dark,

do we?

Maybe we should wait till morning.

She'll come home by then.

And why is Dad just standing

in the back yard, Mum?

Staring at the hills.

Jake: stories

Lucy wakes,

pushing back her hair

and staring out at the night.

‘Do you really believe

we'll see your wolf, Jake?

Honestly?'

I search long into the dark,

and think, Not tonight,

not in this cave.

But I know she's asking me

if I believe in the wolf,

believe that it exists.

‘When I was growing up,

Dad loved to tell me about the wolf.'

Maybe Lucy's prayers are the same

as Dad and his story.

It's what they hold onto;

it doesn't matter if they're true.

‘So yes, Lucy.

My dad saw it.

That's enough for me.'

In the pit of my stomach

I hope he's right,

but

he was wrong about Lucy.

Lucy: lies

When Jake says that

I get so angry,

I want to shake him and shout,

‘Parents lie!

Parents say what they want

to get their own way.'

I know it's no use.

Jake and his dad

have their little story to fall back on.

It's not up to me to prove them wrong.

Hell.

I don't care if it's a wolf,

or a wild dog,

or a bloody ghost.

To me,

it's an excuse to leave home.

Jake can believe what he likes.

Lucky him.

I say,

‘Jake, if your dad believed in Santa,

I guess you would too.'

‘Santa!' he says. ‘Not real?

How could you say such a thing?'

For a moment, I don't get it.

Then Jake shines the torch into his face

and I see him smiling, and he winks

and rolls around laughing at his joke

until he bumps his ankle and screams in pain.

‘Serves yourself right!' I say.

He holds his ankle

but can't resist saying,

‘It's okay.

I'll get over Santa,

eventually!'

I threaten to hit him,

but instead I lean over

and kiss him on the lips

and it's a nice kiss.

I blush

and he kisses me back

and that's a nice kiss as well.

Lucy: blushes

Bloody hell.

Where did that come from?

I've never kissed anyone before.

But, it was either hit Jake

or kiss him.

So I chose.

I hope I chose right.

It felt good too.

Kind of warm and soft

and I could feel the blood

rushing around my body,

not sure where to go,

filling up my veins with heat.

We let our lips linger

for long enough to enjoy.

I blushed

and he kissed me back.

Bloody hell.

What happens now?

EIGHT
This is what happens

Jake: what wolf?

I can smell the eucalyptus

as we kiss.

I press my face into her long hair

as we move together

without speaking.

My arms are tight

around Lucy

and we're so close

it's almost overwhelming.

The warmth,

the sweet smell of her hair,

the touch of her body inside my arms,

the sound of our breathing.

If I had a choice between

a fractured ankle and

a night in the cave with Lucy

or

a guarantee to find the wolf,

I'd look at myself in the mirror

and say,

‘Wolf? What wolf?'

Lucy: for good

This is what happens.

One thing,

one simple thing.

And you know

when it happens

that it's going to break

everything that's come before.

I know it.

I can tell.

Don't laugh at me,

like I'm a dumb teenager

with my first kiss.

That's bullshit.

I've seen things

that I knew, there and then,

were going to get to me.

I've seen bad

thundering through our house

and it made my stomach churn

and every muscle in my body

grow tense like cold wire.

I've hidden under the house

in the dirt

like a cornered animal

waiting for the jaws

to snap shut.

I was powerless to stop his rampage.

I don't want to feel like that anymore.

That kiss from Jake changes everything.

It changes everything for good.

Jake: it doesn't matter

Lucy stands

and walks into the darkness

at the back of the cave.

It's so quiet I can hear her breathing.

She says,

‘I lied, Jake.

About knowing where the wolf lived.

I'm sorry.

I thought if there was a wolf,

he'd live somewhere like here.

I didn't come looking for your wolf.'

I've spent years dreaming about his lair.

I knew he prowled Beaumont Hill

searching for food,

or a mate,

but when Lucy told me of Sheldon Mountain,

it seemed right.

Somewhere mysterious,

hidden from everyone.

I wanted to find the wolf.

To prove it to myself,

and to Dad.

But now, maybe it doesn't matter.

I'm glad Lucy's here,

even if she didn't come for the wolf.

‘Lucy, why?'

Lucy: the soaking

I gently place my backpack under Jake's heel

to give him something to rest his ankle on.

I lean in close to tell him a story,

to explain . . .

‘One day, last year,

I was walking home from Hopkins Bridge.

Thunder rumbled over Beaumont Hill

as the rain poured down.

I was in for a soaking,

with nowhere to hide.

Suddenly,

lightning struck a tree

in the paddock right beside me.

It split the tree in two

as if it was kindling

falling across the track

with a sad creaking dive.

I could have run;

Peter would have,

crying all the way home.

‘You know what I did?

I walked to the paddock

where the tree was struck.

I lay down in the bristling wet grass

and watched the clouds battle across the sky.

Have you ever watched raindrops

falling straight towards you?

It's like you're lifted into the storm.

There's just you and the sky.

I wasn't scared.

I was
in
the storm.

It was freedom.

It was worth the soaking.

‘I wanted to be free, Jake.'

Jake: real

I'm a normal teenage boy.

I look at all the girls

on television,

in movies,

in soaps,

in magazines.

These girls with their clean hair,

gleaming white teeth

and flawless skin,

they shine like glossy varnish

has been painted on them.

Lucy didn't feel like I imagined.

She felt soft

and firm

at the same time

and as we kissed

I felt her getting warmer,

responding to me.

It was the most magical thing

I've ever known.

Lucy is beautiful,

but not like those fantasy girls.

Lucy is real.

Jake: Lucy and me

When Lucy held her hair back

I leant in close

and started kissing her again.

Simple.

I'm not saying much more

about what we did.

You don't tell people those things.

It's not right, to say.

We lay there,

kissing,

getting warmer,

and everything in my past

just disappeared:

the farm and the long driveway,

the chook shed and the eggs every morning,

Mum drinking tea on the verandah,

Patch and Spud barking,

the magpies ringing from the trees,

Wolli Creek bubbling over the rocks,

Dad coming in from the paddocks, humming,

the wolf,

all gone.

It was Lucy and me.

It was like getting lost in the bush

and being happy to wander;

to enjoy the sounds and smells

and to touch each tree, each shrub.

I don't care if it doesn't make sense.

It's how I feel.

It's Lucy and me.

Lucy: think good things

I'm not telling anybody anything.

Think what you like,

why would I care?

Jake and me

did what we did.

If only you could see

the grin on my face.

I'm glad it's dark

so I can smile away to myself

like some half-crazy fool.

And I know why Jake's dad

looks after his farm and his family.

It came to me

when Jake and me were . . .

you know.

It's the place where good things happen,

where you feel at home.

Sacred ground, if you like.

And, for me, that's this cave.

I'm not saying everything is rosy now.

Nothing's that easy.

But, now I know,

I'm normal.

Maybe a little special.

At least, special to someone.

I'm not saying anything more.

You can imagine it.

Think good things, okay?

Lucy: one smart old lady

Grandma once told me

Mum didn't want to marry Dad,

she had to.

Pregnant.

With me.

He was some wild boy passing through.

And because Grandpa didn‘t approve,

they had to live in town until I was born.

Then Grandma took pity on us

after Grandpa died

and made us come and live on the farm.

Me a little baby

and Mum learning to be a mum.

And Dad?

He spent all day in the yard,

smoking and sitting around

waiting for nothing to happen.

Grandma ran the farm

like she always had,

even when Grandpa was alive.

And like the locust plague,

we settled on the farm

and made it our own.

Me and Superman grew up,

wondering why Dad and Grandma

didn't talk much to each other.

But then Grandma,

she was always one smart old lady.

Lucy: what do I say?

I kneel down beside Jake

and say what I've got to say,

about parents.

I start with slaps

turning into the leather strap

hard across my legs.

I don't stop.

I say more than I meant to

and less than I want,

but enough.

Jake doesn't move,

his arm around my shoulder

as I speak in this urgent whisper

until it's all done.

And then I cry.

You won't believe this:

I've never cried in front of someone.

Never.

I used to think it was weakness.

And now I've started, I don't stop.

Jake holds me gently.

I cry years' worth of tears

in one night.

Jake keeps holding me,

whispering,

‘Lucy',

over and over.

I feel better

hearing Jake's voice

and my name.

Jake: real pain

What Lucy is feeling,

that's real pain.

The sort that stabs and pounds

and makes you shake with anger.

My ankle, it's just an injury.

It'll go away in a few weeks

and I'll probably never think of it again.

I stroke Lucy's hair

and repeat her name,

hoping my voice can ease the hurt.

I hold her in my arms

where she's safe

and I try hard not to think about tomorrow

when she'll have to go home

because of me

and my useless ankle.

Lucy: dreams

It seems like ages,

but finally I fall asleep

and dream of being far away.

I'm on my island

with Jake

and we're swimming in a clear lagoon

and yes, there are coconuts and palm trees

and we're naked!

Can you believe that?

Swimming in warm water

without a stitch on.

The sand is blinding white

under our toes

and we can see rainbow fish.

You can say all you like

about me reading too many books

and dreaming of the Trobriands –

the islands, I mean,

not the sex-mad girls!

I don't care.

It was a good dream.

It was a dream you should have

when you're sixteen years old.

It was a dream with Jake in it.

Jake and me.

It was better than most dreams I've had.

Jake: close by

Lucy's head snuggles

into my shoulder.

I can just see the outline of her face

and her hair falling across my jacket.

I don't mind how long she sleeps.

I'm happy to be close by her,

for as long as she wants.

I've never slept beside anyone before.