When Dogs Cry (6 page)

No, it felt good.

When he left, I waved to him but he was already halfway up the street. In the house, Octavia was sitting in our kitchen.

Rube wasn't.

They were as good as over.

She looked beautiful.

 

alley boys

There must be thousands of alleys in here, in this city of my mind.

Dark alleys everywhere.

In each one of them there are people fighting, cutting each other down and placing punches and kicks to bodies that have already fallen.

We go past each one, watching and learning that some people are beaten down for good, and that some get up and keep fighting . . .

Finally, we arrive in an alley that's empty. It's alone and uncaring, and a slight breeze wades across the floor of it. It whispers to the rubbish, then picks it all up and moves it along.

Just like I have been.

Right now.

By this dog.

He skulks away as a group of young men enter the alley.

Only their footsteps speak as they approach me and throw me immediately to the ground. They level their fists and feet at my face, and at my body.

My ribcage shatters.

My heart fights to stay in.

I look to the dog, pleading for help, but nothing arrives.

The help's already here.

It's in the hands, the feet, the breath-covered voices
of my attackers, and when they leave, they step over me and walk back up the alley as if nothing has happened.

My blood runs.

The road is cold.

The dog shows up above me, looking down. He makes me think of all the other beaten down people in the alleys. All the winners. All the fighters. All the losers. And all the ones that refuse to lie down.

He waits.

He watches me.

It takes a while, but I get to my feet.

I look at him
—
a decision has to be made.

Desire reaches through me.

It fills me up.

Spills over.

It catches fire in my eyes and I look up through the alley. I start walking across the pain, deciding all the time. Choosing. Knowing.

Telling the dog that I'll fight.

With desire written in my eyes.

T
HREE WORDS:

God damn Miffy.

I wasn't really in the mood for walking him, especially when I had to wait around quite a while for Rube.

At first, I sat in the kitchen with Octavia.

She didn't look too impressed with things, considering she and Rube were supposed to be going out that afternoon. It must have slipped Rube's mind. At least, that was what I told her. Me though? I knew. Rube was away from her on purpose. I'd seen him do this before.

Come in late.

Argue.

Tell them he doesn't need this garbage.

It was a pretty good technique for Rube. He didn't mind being the villain.

There were leftovers on offer, but Octavia didn't stay for them. I walked out with her and we remained on the
front porch a while, talking, and even managing to laugh now and then.

I took off my jacket and offered it to her. She accepted it, and soon after she said, ‘It's warm, Cam.' She looked just past me. ‘It's the warmest I've felt for a while . . .'

In a way, I hoped she wasn't just talking about the jacket, but it was better not to think like that. When you think like that, you end up standing outside people's houses, waiting for something that never comes.

Either which way, she gave it back when we walked down to the gate and I opened it for her.

The moon was stuck to the sky and Octavia said, ‘There's no point coming back really, is there?'

‘Why?' I replied.

‘Don't why me Cameron.' She looked away and glanced back. ‘It's okay.' Even when she leaned onto the gate with her hands and her voice became unsteady, Octavia looked great, and I don't mean that in a dirty kind of way. I just mean that I liked her. I felt sorry for her, and for what Rube was doing to her. Her eyes smiled at me, for just a moment. One of those hurt smiles a person gives you, to let you know they're okay, even though they're far from it.

After that, she left.

When she was just past the gate, I asked, ‘Octavia?'

She turned around.

‘Y' gonna come back?'

‘Maybe,' she smiled. ‘One day.'

She walked along our street and it really did look like she was walking through a soul, and she was tough and
lovely and okay. For a few seconds, I hated my brother Rube for what he was doing to her.

Also, watching her walk slowly up our street, I remembered what Rube had said about her and him following me one day when I walked over to Glebe and stood outside Stephanie's house. I could clearly see the image of Octavia and Rube looking at me. Looking at me looking. She must have thought I was pathetic. A bit of a lonely bastard, as Rube put it. Maybe now, as she walked up the street, she knew how I felt.

Somehow though, I understood that it was thoughts of Rube that filled her. Not thoughts of me. Maybe she was thinking of his hands on her, touching her, taking her. Having her. Maybe it was laughter she remembered, or the words of a conversation. I would never know.

He came in late for dinner and the old man gave him a good serve for it, as well as for leaving Octavia out to dry. I made sure to keep out of it. All I did was walk out the door once Rube was finished eating, to get Miffy.

It was cold outside and I wasn't in the mood.

Not after that.

The air was cold enough for us to wear our hoods indefinitely, and to watch the smoke pour from our mouths when we breathed.

Smoke came from Miffy's mouth too, especially when he had a bit of a coughing fit. That was when we quickened the pace for home.

Later, we watched TV.

I looked over at my brother. He could sense it.

‘What?' he said.

I was on the couch and Rube was in the worn-through chair.

‘Is Octavia gone?'

He looked.

First away. Then back at me.

Yes.

That was the answer and Rube knew he didn't have to say it. I knew he didn't have to say it.

‘There a new one?'

Again, he didn't have to answer.

‘What's her name?'

He waited a while, then said it. ‘Julia . . . But relax, Cam—I haven't done anything yet.'

I nodded.

I nodded and swallowed and I wished hard that it didn't have to be this way, for Octavia. I couldn't have cared less about Rube at this point. I thought only of the poor girl, and I thought of a time a few years ago when Sarah got dumped by this one particular guy. I remembered how shattered she was, especially when she found out that there was another girl.

Rube and I hated the guy who did that.

We wanted to kill him.

Rube especially.

Now that guy was Rube.

For a moment, I nearly mentioned it, but all I did was sit there stupidly and look at Rube's face, side-on. There was no remorse in him. Almost no trace of thought about what he was doing.

Julia.

I could only wonder what she'd be like.

The only problem for Rube was that Octavia wanted to find out for sure, so she came over again during the week.

They went out to the yard, and after a few minutes, she came back through the house on her own. When she saw me, she said, ‘I'll see you Cameron,' and again, she gave me that courageous smile—the one I saw the other night. Only this time, her green eyes were soaked more definitely, the water rising higher, only just managing not to fall out. She gathered herself and we stood in the hall and she said one last time, ‘I'll see you round.'

‘No you won't,' and I smiled back at her. We both knew that people didn't see Cameron Wolfe—at least not unless they walked through the streets of the city a lot.

This time, when she left, she told me not to come out, but secretly, I stood on the front porch and watched her disappear.

‘I'm sorry,' I whispered.

I figured that was the last time I'd ever see Rube's girl Octavia.

I was wrong.

 

walk on

I'm cold now.

Jacketless.

Somehow, I left my jacket in a back alley, and now I wander around with this dog, shivering as we walk.

For the first time, I feel anger.

‘What is this?' I bark, but no answer is given. Only the sound of his paws and claws on the road find my ears. And his breath. His smoky breath.

It feels like we're going nowhere
—
just rambling through the streets in the dark.

My heart is bleeding.

With aloneness.

The blood lands on my feet and hits the ground.

Pain from the alley overcomes me and I stumble.

I fall.

Now I'm sprawled out, motionless on the cold city floor.

Bleeding.

Falling apart.

Soon the presence of the dog comes back to me. I feel him settle and lie down next to me. He rests his snout on my arm and I feel his breath on my skin.

I open my eyes and get a look at him from the edge of my vision. He's asleep, but waiting.

He's waiting for me to stand up and keep walking.

J
ULIA WAS, OF COURSE, AN ABSOLUTE SCRUBBER.
T
HERE'S
not a whole lot more I can say about her. A scrubber (in case you don't know) is a girl that might be described as kind of slutty or festy, yet still without being a complete prostitute or anything like that. She chews gum a lot. She might drink excessively and smoke for show. She'll call you a faggot, poofter or wanker with a lovely smirk on her face. She'll wear painted-on jeans and good cleavage and she won't care too much if her headlights are on. Jewellery: moderate to heavy, maybe with a nose ring or eyebrow ring for rebellious originality. Then there's the make-up. At times it's
bucketed
on, especially if there's a bit of acne involved on her face, although more often than not, a scrubber isn't too bad looking at all. She just has a tendency to make herself ugly, by what she says and what she does.

And Julia?

What can I say?

She was beautiful. She was blonde.

And she was a scrubber and a half.

‘So this is Cameron,' she said when she first saw me. She was chewing that low sugar gum that dentists highly recommend.

‘Hey,' I said, and Rube winked at me. I knew what the wink meant. Something like,
Not bad, huh?
or
You wouldn't knock her back, would y'?
or even simply,
Pretty good handfuls, ay?
The bastard.

As you can imagine, I got out of there pretty quick smart, because that girl annoyed the crap out of me very bloody fast. My only hope was that Rube wouldn't take her to see me staring at that Stephanie girl's house. Octavia, I could handle, because she at least had a bit of class about her. A bit of niceness. But not this one. She'd most likely call me a bit of a lonely bastard as well. Or maybe she'd say something like ‘Get a life' or repeat something Rube had previously said, hoping his charisma would rub off on her. No way. I wouldn't give her a chance. Not this one (even though
Christ!
I thought at one stage.
Take a look at her.
She had an
Inside Sport
body if ever I'd seen one).

But no.

I'd made up my mind.

Rather than hang around them like a bad smell, I decided to go to the movies and hang around like a bad smell there instead.

On a cold, windy Saturday, when Dad didn't need me, I saw three movies in one day before going over to Glebe
a while, and then home. In the night, I went down to our basement and wrote for a few hours, feeling everything that was me shift and turn inside me.

I was in bed for quite a while when Rube came in and slumped down on his own bed across from me. He laughed for a while and I had to turn the light off, when he said, ‘Well Cam?'

‘Well what?'

‘What are your thoughts?'

‘On what?'

‘On Julia.'

‘Well,' I began, but I didn't want to congratulate him on her, and I didn't want to interfere either. The injured darkness of the room swayed and stumbled and I said, ‘She's okay, I guess.'

‘Okay!?' He raised his voice, excitedly. ‘She's pretty bloody brilliant if you ask me.'

‘But I didn't ask you, did I?' I stated. ‘You asked
me
and I told you the answer.'

‘Smartarse.'

I laughed.

‘Are you tryin' to start somethin'?'

‘Of course not.'

‘Well you better bloody not . . .'

Rube's voice trailed off and he fell asleep, letting the night throb around me, alone.

I lay there, not sleeping for hours—thinking about the cover model on the magazine at the barber, then an exotic supermodel I saw on an ad at the movies. In my mind, I was with them. In them. Alone. For a while I
even thought of Julia, but that was too much. I mean, there's perversion and there's perversion. Even for me.

In the morning, the previous night's conversation between Rube and me was forgotten. He ate slabs of bacon in the kitchen before going out again, while I stayed in because I had work due in at school next day.

Of course, I knew Rube was with Julia, and the pattern continued.

About two weeks went by, and everything was normal. Normal routine.

Dad was working hard, plumbing.

Mrs Wolfe was the same, cleaning people's houses and doing a few cleaning shifts at the hospital.

Sarah did some overtime.