‘No, it’s more than just that. I can tell …’

‘ALL the same though, Cassy looks great, doesn’t she?’

‘She sure does …’

‘— But afraid of what?’

‘I told you. I don’t know.’

11

I only know that I’m a new kind of afraid.

You know how dogs whine when they’re afraid, like when a storm’s coming? Well I feel like doing it right now. I feel like asking questions, in desperation.

When did this happen?

How did it happen?

Why did he change so quickly?

Why aren’t I happy for him?

Why does it scare me?

And why can’t I put my finger on exactly what it is?

All of those questions swing through me, eroding me a little each time. They swing through me during my brother’s next few fights. All knockouts. They swing through me each time he stands over his man, telling him to get up, and when the people touch him to grab a little piece of his greatness. I ask the same questions in the dressing room, among the smell of liniment and gloves and sweat. I ask them the next time I see Rube get it off with a nineteen-year-old uni student behind the Maroubra factory, before he walks away from her (without looking back). Then the next time — a different girl. Then the next. I ask the questions at home when we eat our dinner with Mum pouring out the soup, and Sarah eating it politely, and Dad eating more failure with his meal. Putting it in his mouth. Chewing it. Tasting it. Swallowing it. Digesting it. Getting used to it. I ask them when Sarah and I wrestle some washing off the line. (‘Damn it!’ she yells. ‘It’s raining! Hey Cam! Come help us get the washing off!’ Just lovely, the two of us sprinting out back and ripping it all off the line, not caring if it’s in shreds, just as long as it’s bloody dry.) I even ask the questions when I smell my socks to see if they can go one more day or if I should wash them next shower. I ask them when I go and visit Steve at his new place and he gives me a cup of black coffee and a silent, friendly conversation.

Finally, someone else arrives to help me out a bit.

It’s Mrs Wolfe, who, thankfully, has some questions of her own. The best thing about this is that maybe she can get something out of Rube to help me understand him better. Also, she has chosen a night and a week in which I’ve won my last fight, so I don’t have any bruises on me.