Run to Me (5 page)

 One of the boys in eating a hamburger and I
realise how hungry I am. I might just cook that curry tonight anyhow. Or maybe
I’ll order a pizza. Get in a good dose of fat before I have to start running
again.

Peter Stewart seemed very happy with me taking
over the squad. Like it wasn’t his idea to begin with. But I don’t really mind.
Even though I was pigeon-holed into it, I know it’ll be good for me to run
regularly again. And Luke definitely loves my runner’s butt.

My mobile starts to ring just as I pull up in
our driveway. I zip open my handbag and grab the phone. It’s Nadine.

‘Hey,’ I say.

She wants to know how my day was. And if I fancy
a cuppa.

‘Yeah all right,’ I say, pressing the buzzer for
the garage door. ‘Come round. I just got home.’

I park the car and get out. The garage is loaded
with boxes, packed full of old books and records. Some have been here since the
day we moved in. After four years it’s safe to say they’ll never be unpacked.
Our bicycles are mounted on the wall; one of Luke’s Sunday handy-man jobs.
There have been a lot of those. The garden shed, the coffee table, the
discarded crib. I have to squeeze sideways and step over Luke’s tool chest to
get around the car. Inside, the phone is ringing. The machine clicks on just before
I get to it.

Luke’s voice echoes around the empty house. ‘Hey
it’s me. I’m, well, it looks like...’

I pick up the receiver.

‘Hey. I’m here.’

‘Oh, hi. Yeah, look. I’m definitely stuck here
until I can make this conference call. So, um, go ahead and eat without me.
I’ll grab some dinner here. OK?’ he says.

‘Yeah OK. Nadine is on her way over so maybe
we’ll order pizza or something.’ I dump my bags on the kitchen bench and step
out of my shoes. The tiles are icy on my feet and I think about taking a long,
hot bath. And maybe a glass of wine.

‘OK. Well tell her I say Hi’.

Nadine. The bath will have to wait.

‘Sure. OK’ I say.

‘Right. Better go’ says Luke. ‘But, ahh how was
it, today?’

‘It was actually fine. My senior class seem
great and the younger ones are good too. Plus I met Todd, the P E teacher, and
he’s fantastic. I think we’ll get along great.’

‘I’m glad it went well. Look I’ve got to run. Speak
tonight. Bye.’

I hang up the phone and head to our bedroom. That’s
what happens when he’s at work; it’s as though the rest of the world melts
away, including me. But I shouldn’t complain. One of the reasons I married him
was for his commitment to his career. At the time I thought it was a good
quality in a man; he could take care of our family. I didn’t factor in what it
would mean if we never actually started a family.   

The carpet in the bedroom is warmer on my feet. I
quickly take off my ‘school matron’ clothes and throw them on the bed. My
tracksuit pants are bunched up on the floor beside the wardrobe and I can see
my Ugg boots poking out from under the bed. This is always the first thing I do
when I get home; get into my comfy clothes. I remember when Luke and I were
first living together I noticed he does the same thing. It surprised me because
my previous boyfriends used to sit around in their work clothes, creasing the
pants, and slopping food on the shirt. But Luke loves his trackies just as much
as me. Such a small thing, but it was these details, back when we were engaged,
that made me think we really did fit together.

The doorbell rings as I’m yanking on a T-shirt.
Nadine is smiling when I open the door, and she holds up a giant box of
chocolates.

‘I figured if the day was crap then you’d need
these, and if the day went well then...ahh who cares? We’ll eat them anyway,’
she says.

We both laugh as I give her a hug.

‘Sure. Why not?’ I ask, closing the door behind
us. ‘Actually, it did go OK. I mean, there were no tears or panic attacks.’

‘Well that was the students. But what about
you?’

We giggle some more. Nadine follows me into the
kitchen, her flowing purple skirt swishing all the way, and plonks herself down
on one of our wooden bar stools. I turn on the kettle and get out a couple of
mugs while she cracks open the chocolate box.

‘So? Any hotties there?’ she asks.

‘Well, everyone’s pretty old. I mean, older than
us,’ I say. Nadine pulls a face.

‘But… there
is
this one guy, Todd. He
teaches P.E.’

‘Oooh,’ says Nadine, sparking up at this info. ‘They
always have great bodies. It’s all that fitness. And sport.’

‘Hmm. I think he’s married though. But anyway,
I’m about to get in on some of that fitness.’

‘What?’

The kettle starts to boil. I step over and
switch it off.

‘They’ve given me the senior running squad,’ I
say, filling the mugs. ‘I mean, I’m going to be coaching the running team.’

‘Whoa. Running? Really?’ Nadine raises her
eyebrows. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘I’m not in very good shape at all but what
could I say? I’ve just started there, I can’t be turning down offers, or rather
demands,
to take part in extracurricular activities.’

Nadine reaches up to scrunch her messy brown bob
between her fingers. ‘So they didn’t so much ask you, as tell you?’

‘Right. But it’s OK. I figure it’ll be good for
me and I can earn some major brownie points.’ I hand Nadine her cuppa and pull
up the other stool. ‘At least I’m not stuck coaching rugby.’

‘Or badminton.’

‘Do they even play that anymore?’ I laugh.

‘Who knows. So you like the place? Still glad
you quit Madison?’

‘Actually, yeah. I just drove past there on my
way home. No regrets.’

‘Great. So how was your weekend? What did you
guys do?’

I roll my eyes. ‘The usual stuff.’

‘That doesn’t sound too good.’

‘I don’t know. No, it was fine. We hung out
here. Luke watched the cricket.’ I take a couple of sips of my tea and reach
for the chocolates.

Nadine pops a chocolate in her mouth too.

‘And...,’ she says with her mouth full.

‘And that was it. A quiet weekend.’

‘What? No dinner or dancing?’

‘Have you ever known Luke to take me dancing?’

‘There’s a first time for everything...’

‘No, it was good actually. Eased me into today.
Now that I’ve got this new position, things will be better.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ll be just as busy as him.’

‘And you want that?’

I shrug. ‘Give me less time to mull over
everything.’

We sit in silence, munching on our chocolates
and sipping our tea. Nadine knows me well enough to take the hint. I don’t want
to talk about Luke all night. I spend far too much of my energy on him as it
is.

‘So,’ I say with a grin, ‘Luke’s out tonight. How
about some pizza and wine?’

***

I walk as slow as I can to the site after last
period. I find a rock lying on the footpath just outside the school gates and
see how far I can kick it as I walk along. The longest I get is six, maybe
seven metres. After a while the dirt from the rock sticks to the toe of my shoe,
and it looks like I might have scratched the leather a bit. I lift my foot and
wipe it on the back of my trouser leg. Most of the dust comes off. Then I
remember the tomato sauce from lunch. I grab the bottom of my trousers and sure
enough, I’ve got a massive red splotch there. And now some dirt on top of that.
Mum will crack it tonight.

When I get there it’s already four o’clock. I
stand near the tall wire fence that circles the construction site and look
through the holes. This house is pretty much done. The Chief’s been at it for
months. It’s a two-story brick job with a mother of a backyard and a three car
garage. They must be loaded this lot.

Through the fence I can see Terry up a ladder
with a brush and a tin of white paint. He’s working his way round the timber
window frame. He’s wearing a blue hoodie that’s a couple of sizes too small.
The hood barely covers half his head. I can see the white cord of his iPod
earphones and his head slightly bopping to the music as he glides the paintbrush
from side to side. Terry’s all right. He’s always up for a laugh, and he makes
working on the site bearable. At least for a couple of hours. But if he’s up
there painting, I won’t get much of a chance to shoot the shit with him today.

Cut into the fence is a door, held closed by the
end of a coat hanger, hooked around the wire. I push it open and step through,
bending the makeshift latch to secure the door, and try to get his attention. I
wave my arms and call out his name but he doesn’t notice. Too into his tunes.
Short of kicking the ladder there isn’t much else I can do. I figure I’ll catch
him later, and head round the back to find The Chief.

‘Where’ve you been?’ he asks as soon as he spots
me. He looks at his watch. ‘It’s past four.’

I shrug. ‘Got held up.’

He’s been working on the back patio, drilling
down the wooden flooring. Behind him is a portable radio cranking out some
crappy old school tunes. I wish I had Terry’s iPod so I didn’t have to listen
to this nasty shit. As The Chief talks he lifts the drill and points it at me,
like a pistol.

‘Don’t give me that bullshit. Next time, when I
say straight after school you’d better be here by three thirty.’

‘Whatever. Just tell me why you’ve got me here
then.’

He lowers the drill and looks me up and down.
He’s always doing that, sizing me up. I reckon he just can’t help himself.

‘There’s a skip out the front. Got a load of rubbish
you can dump in there. Especially all the rocks Mike’s excavating from up the
back.’ He cocks his head towards the rear of the backyard. Mike’s in the
backhoe digging up the ground. I can see his hands moving the controls, the
mechanical arm lowering the scoop into the earth and coming back overflowing
with rocks and gravel. The hole’s got to be a couple of metres deep already.
Beside the hole is a growing pile of debris, most of the rocks three times as
big as my head.

‘Piss off,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I’ve got to
move all that shit out the front? Why can’t Mike just drive a load out on the
hoe?’

He points the drill at me again. ‘Watch your
mouth,’ he says, then gestures towards Mike. ‘He’s digging the bloody hole.
He’s got no time for shifting it out front. Now quit your moaning and get to work.’
He waits for me to move. ‘
Now
, Paul.’

‘Righto. Let me get changed first.’

I slip inside through the open patio door and
quickly get out of my hot uniform. I pull my running gear on, hoping I might be
able to swing a quick circuit in after I’m done here. As I’m changing I realise
I can’t hear the drill; he’s out there waiting for me.

He snorts when I emerge. ‘You think you’re
getting a run in after this?’

I shrug. ‘You wouldn’t want me to dirty my
beloved Whateley uniform now, would you?’

I don’t mention the already soiled trousers.

He just shakes his head. ‘Cut the bull. Get
moving.’

I dump my school bag and march up the backyard,
pulling up just near the hoe. The scoop scraps against the rocky ground and the
arm lets out a loud moan as it lifts the muck out of the hole. When Mike turns
it to drop the load he sees me and waves. He opens the cab door.

‘How you doing, Paul? Your dad said you’d be
dropping round today.’

Mike’s The Chief’s right-hand man. They’ve been
mates since high school or something.  

‘Yeah, got roped in to helping. Now I’ve got to
move this lot,’ I say, nodding at the pile of rocks.

‘Right,’ says Mike, lifting his faded blue baseball
cap to scratch his head. ‘Well there’s a barrow, a shovel and some gloves just
behind you. I left them out for you to use.’ He finishes scratching and pulls
the cap on again, back to front.

‘Thanks, Mike.’

I see him look over my shoulder. ‘Better get
back to it,’ he says, slamming the door.

I turn around. The Chief is repeatedly pointing
the drill at me and then at the pile of rocks. I almost give him the bird, but
figure I’m already on thin ice. Instead, I move over to the wheelbarrow and
pick up the gloves. They’ve seen better days. The fingers are almost worn
through and there is a hole in the palm of the right one. I slip the gloves on,
dump the shovel in the barrow, lift it and wheel it over to the pile.

I start first with the shovel, digging in to the
dirt and mud and chucking a few heaps of it into the barrow. Then I load some
of the smaller rocks and then a few big ones on top. My arms strain when I lift
the barrow and when I try to turn it I almost tip the load out altogether. But
I manage to keep it steady. I wheel it past The Chief and out to the skip. The barrow’s
tires catch on the gravel at the front of the house, making it extra hard to
push. I lean into the handles to give it all my body weight and the barrow
lurches forward, crackling the gravel. At the skip I heave the rocks over the
edge, smiling at the tinging thud they make as they land on its empty base.