HARMOND DRIVE

It took Mike five minutes to assure himself that the dog we hit on Harmond Drive was dead. The border collie had emerged from the side of the six lane highway. Mike slammed on the brakes but we hit it straight on as it cowered, bracing itself for the impact. Pasta salad flung from the bowl on the backseat, spraying the windscreen. The inertia whacked us back into our seats. We sat waiting for something – anything – to happen. The dog was dead, surely. It was dead and I had never seen a person so unsure of something so finished as Mike was about that dog.

Mike nudged it with his foot, stared at it, talked at it like a child. I stood watching from behind the opened passenger door. Its fur rippled in the wind, as if its spirit were fighting the end. I think Mike might have stopped trying a little earlier if it weren’t for the wind.

‘What’ll we do, Sal?’ Mike looked at me, his face tormented.

‘Check the collar,’ I said. Mike groped around its neck.

‘Nah. God. He’s still warm. Who owns a border collie and doesn’t put a collar on it?’

‘Might be a stray,’ but the clean sheen of the dog’s soft coat implied otherwise.

We took a picnic blanket from the back of the ‘91 Mitsubishi Lancer and splayed it out on the side of the road. It was understood, without saying, that we would both be lifting the dog onto the blanket. We would both be taking responsibility for this. Mike waited for me to close the boot.

‘You ready?’ I had never seen him this disappointed. We had known each other for three whole years, but I could never have imagined that face.

I took the initiative, grabbing the dog’s back legs. Mike followed straight after with the front. We lifted it, just enough not to drag the body, and shuffled across to the blanket.

‘Shit!’ Mike yelled, dropping his end of the corpse.

‘Did you feel that?’

‘What?’

‘He moved, I swear he fucken moved.’ Mike stood, arms out, ready to tackle the dog in an instant.

‘Mike. He’s dead. I’m sorry, but – ’

‘Look! Fucken look at him!’

I looked down at the animal. It lay there, still as ever, its clean fur dancing horribly in the wind. Dead. Blood had started to appear around its mouth.

‘For fuck sake. It’s dead. Stop. You’re freaking me out.’

‘I could have sworn it moved.’

We wrapped the dog in the blanket and carried it to the car. We covered the spilt pasta salad with newspaper and Mike put the dog on the back seat. I wiped down the inside of the windscreen while Mike smoked a cigarette.

We got back into the car and sat in silence.

‘To the vet? You take dead animals to the vet, don’t ya?’ Mike lit another cigarette.

He didn’t seem ready to start the car.

‘I can drive. You call Marie and let her know we’ll be late.’

‘What’s it fucken matter. She doesn’t want us there anyway.’

It was Mike’s daughter’s sixth birthday. Marie was Georgia’s mother. Once I’d got myself involved with Mike, the situation was as good as my problem.

‘Georgia’s your girl too.’

‘What do you care?’

‘She’s your daughter, Mike. And I’m not gonna get around with a dickhead who doesn’t turn up to his daughter’s birthday party.’ I got out of the car and walked around to the driver’s side door. The only way to get Mike out of a rut was to drag him out headfirst. I stood and waited for him to decide whether or not he was going to let me drive. A patch of black fur lodged on the headlight fluffed about. Mike sighed and moved to get out, stopping to look up at me. We really hit that dog hard.

‘Thanks, Sal.’

Mike walked around the front of the car, stopping to look at the ground.

‘Jesus. We really smacked him.’

*

I was surprised by Marie. She was entirely likeable. I expected someone prickly, stubborn. From what Mike had said, I expected a woman uptight and tired, and I was expecting her to hate me.

Marie opened the door, beaming a warm smile from behind the flywire. Greeting us with a sing-song hello, hugging and kissing us both, she welcomed us inside. Marie was beautiful. And not just the pretty kind. Marie was the full-throttle, born in a bath of grace and purity kind of beautiful.

‘It is so great to finally meet you, Sal,’ Marie whispered to me, ushering me into the corner of the room. ‘I’m worried about Mike. But he told me about you, and I have to say I felt really relieved.’

‘I dunno about that.’ I laughed. It was more of a chuckle. How do I not look foolish in front of Marie?

‘No, really. His last two girlfriends, you know, they were nice. But Mike needs a certain type of partner, I think. He gets, you know – ’

‘Down,’ we whispered in unison.

‘Yes. See? You get that. The others didn’t get that. Not as far as I could tell. The last one, Sandra – ’

‘Amanda,’ I corrected.

‘Amanda. Amanda coddled him. And, you know – ’

Georgia ran in from the backyard, five screaming children in tow. She ran straight to Marie and stopped, panting, waiting for her turn to speak.

‘Yes, Georgia?’

‘Can-we-go-out-front-and-play?’

‘Yes but you’ll need to take Dad out there with you, to keep an eye out for cars.’ Marie gestured her head over to Mike with a smile. Georgia turned around and proceeded to loiter on the spot.

‘Hi Georgie. Happy birthday,’ Mike said. He had done worse. Mike and children were a difficult combination. I’d often thought it felt cruel just how uncomfortable he was around kids, and then, you know, Georgia happening.

‘Go give Dad a kiss and hug, please Georgia.’ Marie nudged her gently in Mike’s direction. Walking over to him bashfully, looking back at her mother, the little girl kissed him gingerly on the cheek. Georgia patted his arm in the way children do of a dog they’re not quite sure of. Or was it more with the reverence required of touching the nose of a horse. I couldn’t tell.

‘What’s that?’ Georgia grimaced, pointing at Mike’s ear.

‘What’s what?’ He pulled away from her, raising a hand to the side of his head.

‘Gross,’ Georgia groaned. I smiled. Georgia appeared to be more like the Marie Mike had told me about than Marie herself. ‘Mike has pasta in his ear.’

‘Oh,’ I intersected. ‘We had a pasta salad on the backseat of the car on the way over, and – ’ I was unsure if I should tell them, but I saw no other way of explaining it, ‘and we hit a dog. The pasta went everywhere.’

‘Oh my god. Are you guys okay?’ Marie looked genuinely concerned. I am sure she was genuinely concerned.

‘Yeah, we’re fine. Mike’s a bit shaken up. But he’ll be fine, I think.’

News of the accident floated through Georgia without record. She ran back to the yard, making up a song about Mike, pasta and hairy ears. The other children joined in.

‘Who invited that guy,’ Mike asked Marie. He was referring to a tall, sallow man standing at the other end of the room. The man stood alone among the other parents, vacantly picking at his teeth.

‘I did, Mike. Sal, that’s Georgia’s after-school care supervisor.’

‘He’s a fucken weirdo,’ Mike said.

‘He is not.’

‘He can’t hold a conversation without flaring his nostrils,’ Mike said.

‘Wayne, honey, come meet Sal,’ Marie chirped across the room. Mike had registered the word ‘honey’ as soon as I had. Wayne grinned and waddled across the room. Marie took him by the hand.

‘Hullo.’ Wayne offered me a handshake.

‘Sal,’ I said.

‘Wayne,’ he replied, nostrils quivering.  

‘Sal is Mike’s new partner.’ Marie smiled at me sincerely.

‘Looks like you have a new partner too,’ Mike interjected.

‘Well,’ Wayne smirked, ‘we are taking everything very slow. You know, just seeing how things go.’ He had a lisp.

‘Right. Yep. So, do you guys make out behind the sports shed at school?’

‘Mike,’ Marie warned.

‘No, really. Wouldn’t want to let the kids see it, hey Wayne?’

‘Mike.’

‘Actually, Mike, Marie and I have decided that we are strictly platonic around the kids at school. We think it’s best that way to begin with.’

‘What? Like all the kids running around the house right now?’

‘Mike, would you stop it please?’

‘Come on, let’s go sit out front.’ I led him off. Wayne was a deer in headlights.

We grabbed a couple of beers and sat on the front step, watching the kids run around. Mike was noticeably annoyed. It hadn’t occurred to him that his anger regarding Marie’s love life might offend me.

‘What a fucken dick,’ Mike sneered. ‘I mean, of all the men in this town,’ he continued, ‘and she chooses him?’

‘Maybe he chose her,’ I said.

‘Yeah. Right,’ he said, a spiteful smile building itself up across his face.

‘Guys like that don’t choose women like Marie. Marie does the choosing. Trust me.’

‘Did she choose you?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I guess I just don’t see why Wayne was such a bad choice.’

‘You’re kidding.’

’You’re always so pissed with Marie. She’s nice. I like her. And you need to hate her.’

Mike said nothing. I left him on the step and headed for the train station. He spoke when I needed silence, and said nothing when I wanted him to explain everything.

*

I stayed at Mum’s place that night. We sat up till 2:30am drinking whisky and hot water.

‘Is it about kids? Cause if it’s about kids, Sal, well, you’re still young.’

‘It’s not about kids.’

‘Then what’s your problem? Ditch him. You’re still young.’

‘Mum.’

‘Okay, love. Look. The way I see it,’ she paused to light another cigarette, ‘the way I see it is this. You’ve got your main roads, your proper arteries. They’re the solid ones. Easy moving, you know? Then you’ve got your minor roads, the ones that take you sideways.’

‘Mike’s a road now?’

‘Well,’ she tilted her head, blowing the smoke sideways. ‘Yes, but not a main artery.’

‘My life isn’t a metaphor.’

‘Just cause Mike’s a minor road, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it a shot. I just mean that, you know, he might be worthy of your time and energy Sal, but, maybe just to lead you someplace else.’

I poured another whisky.

‘You do what you like. But believe me, you’re young. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

The evening went on like that until Mum got too drunk to sit upright. I put her to bed and set up the fold-out bed in the living room.

I lay awake listening to her snore. My father had never been Mum’s main road. That had always been clear.

*

The next day I borrowed Mum’s car and drove over to Mike’s place. I let myself in and found him sitting on the deck chair in the overgrown yard. He didn’t notice me at first. He sat still, the sun lighting the bugs and dust that floated around him. He lifted the tinny to his mouth and swigged. It was 11:30am.

‘Sal,’ he said.

‘Mike,’ I replied.

‘Where’d you get off to?’

‘Stayed at Mum’s.’

‘You got the shits?’

‘No.’

‘Righto then.’

‘How was the rest of the party?’ I sat on the side of the deck chair, taking a sidelong glance at his face. It was calm.

‘I called the vet. No one claimed the dog.’ He finished his beer in one mouthful, crushed the can and tossed it into the overgrown lawn. A stir of bugs spiralled skyward.

A child squealed in the park across the road. The toddler was defiantly upset. Had he climbed all that way to the top of the play equipment, had he made all that progress, just to be forced to go down the slide? Forced by way of gravity, and in the face of pure fear, to move into the future that awaited him below. His mother stood at the base of the slide, imploring his courage. How could he possibly turn back?

‘Thought maybe we might get a dog, when you move your gear in next month.’

‘We haven’t decided that yet.’

‘You’re here all the time. Makes sense.’ He shrugged.

He still hadn’t looked at me. It was clear now that he never would.

‘I can’t stop thinking about that dog.’

Originally published in Verge (Monash University Publishing) 2016