they’re wrong. It was more than that. It was Ruben Wolfe and me, and the blood of brothers in our veins.
In the dressing room, the feeling of it helps me get changed, and it waits with me for Rube. When he finds me, Perry arrives as well and sorts out the money, though we both know we’ll split it tonight, down the middle. The money means nothing.
On our way out the back door, the crowd roars from another fight, and Perry stops us. I expect him to say something to Rube about not finishing me off, but he doesn’t. Instead, with a smile and shake of his head, he says, “Not bad, lads. Not bad at all.”
“Thanks,” Rube answers, and we walk out.
Tonight, we’re pretty quick to leave, mainly for our mother’s sake. We meet back at the panel van.
Outside, the cold air slaps me.
We drive home, in silence again.
On our front porch, Mrs. Wolfe stops and gives us each a hug. She hugs our father as well. They both go in.
Standing outside, we still hear Sarah ask from the kitchen, “So, who won?”
We also hear the answer.
“Nobody.”
It’s Dad.
Mum calls out from inside. “Do you fellas want dinner? I’m heating it up right now!”
“What is it?” Rube answers, hopeful. “The usual!”
Rube turns to me and says, “Bloody pea soup again. It’s a dis-grace.”
“Yeah,” I agree, “but it’s brilliant too.” “Yeah, I know.”
I open the flyscreen door and walk into the kitchen. I check out what’s going on, and the smell of everyday life fights its way into my nose.
“Hey Rube?”
We’re on the front porch, eating pea soup in the dark.
“What?”
“You’ll win that lightweight title in a few weeks, won’t y’?”
“I’d say so, but I won’t be doin’ it again next year. I’ll tell Perry soon enough.” He laughs. “It was pretty good chop there for a while, wasn’t it? Perry, the bouts, all of it.”
I even laugh myself, for some reason. “Yeah, I guess.”
Rube looks in disgust down at his soup. “This is bloody shockin’ tonight.” He lifts a spoonful and lets it drop back into the bowl.
A car drives past
Miffy barks.
“We’re comin’!” Rube shouts. He gets up. “Here, give us y’ bowl.”
He takes it inside and when he returns, we make our way off the porch, to get damn Miffy.
At the gate, I stop my brother.
I ask, “What’ll y’ do when the boxing’s over?”
He answers without thinking. “I’m gonna hunt my life down and grab it.”
Then we put our hoods on and walk out.
Street.
World.
Us.
GETTING
THE GIRL
For Scout
and
for Mum and Dad
CHAPTER 1
It was Rube’s girl’s idea to make the beer ice blocks, not mine.
Let’s start with that.
It just happened to be me who lost out because of it.
See, I’d always thought that at some point I’d grow up, but it hadn’t happened yet. It’s just the way it was.
In all honesty, I’d wondered if there would ever come a time when Cameron Wolfe (that’s me) would pull himself together. I’d seen
glimpses of a different me. It was a different me because in those increments of time I thought I actually became a winner.
The truth, however, was painful.
It was a truth that told me with a sc
ratching internal brutality that I was me, and that winning wasn’t natural for me. It had to be fought for, in the echoes and trodden footprints of my mind. In a way, I had to scavenge for moments of alrightness.
I touched myself.
A bit.
Okay.
Okay.
A lot.
(There are people who’ve told me you shouldn’t admit that sort of thing too early, on account of the fact that people might get offended. Well, all I can say to that is why the hell not? Why not tell the truth? Otherwise there’s no bloody point really, is there? Is there?)
It was just that I wanted to be touched by a girl someday. I wanted her to look at me as if I was the filthy, torn, half-smiling, half-scowling underdog who was trying to impress her.
Her fingers.
In my mind, they were always soft, falling down my chest to my stomach. Her nails would be on my legs, just nice, handing shivers to my skin. I imagined it all the time, but refused to believe it was purely a matter of lust. The reason I can say this is that in my daydreams, the hands of the girl would always end up at my heart. Every time. I told myself that that’s where I wanted her to touch me.
There was sex, of course.
Nakedness.
Wall to wall, in and out of my thoughts.
But when it