Avalon Expandable Heart: The Wild Heart Series

by Shantelle McKinnon

  Noah’s eye darkens as he watches me fumble through my calculations and at me calling him that. Well, he thinks the shoe fits!

  “Scary,” I roll my eyes. “Hey, do you guys have this like monster in you? You know the thing that is deep and dark and sometimes comes out?”

  Noah’s teeth grit. Fists clench.

  “Ah, a white elephant has arisen has it?” Harry muses.

  “White elephant?” I raise an eyebrow just as Noah says, “Nice way to put it.”

  “I do,” Flea raises his hand.

  “Me too,” Harry chuckles.

  “See everyone has a monstrous elephant inside!” I gesture. “And now that everyone has owned up, it doesn’t seem like such a terrible thing to have any more. People go to the zoo to see elephants.” I add cheerily.

  Noah says nothing.

  Harry pats Noah on the back and whispers loudly, “I thought we were talking about Av for sure, if it were a bet I would have lost.”

  “Weight?” I prompt ignoring Harry after sending him a droll look.

  “Ninety-eight,” Noah says quietly in this voice that sends a good sort of shiver down my spine.

  “You weigh more than Seth,” I chatter as I attempt to work out the dose correctly. I wonder what Seth is doing. I’ve been a bit lax in trying to get him to talk to me, but after the news that Henry is gone from our lives, I’m going to renew my efforts, even if I must go all out. I really miss him. Surely, he’s grown used to his hair by now. Funny how a minute ago I was thinking about my crazy stuff being conveniently glossed over. Seth is not doing that. He’s stubborn.

  I draw the fluid into the syringe and tap the needle, the bubbles rising to the top remind me of diving underwater that day with Sam and Seth and I smile thinking I want to do that again. When I look down at Noah, he’s decidedly aggressive. Unfortunately for me, my body thinks that looks mighty fine.

  “The good news is Frank has never complained when I’ve given him a shot,” I chuckle at Noah’s agro face, thinking if he really knew what I thought when he pulled it he’d freak out. Stupid sex octopus. Harry and Flea move to the other lounge.

  Noah does not flinch as the needle slides in or when the cool fluid disperses into his muscle. His gaze never falters from my face, and it kind of heats me up. More.

  “See? All good,” then I change my face to show alarm as I whisk my eyes over his head like he’s sprouting horns.

  Noah scrunches up his nose and pulls me to him chuckling.

  “I’m a good injection giver, aren’t I?” I gaze up at him from laying my head on his legs. Alby slinks in from somewhere to lick my cheek.

  Instead of answering, Noah turns to Harry, “Did you know Avalon thought that median strips were there for decoration? Or that she has no idea how traffic lights work?”

  Harry throws me a considering glance, “Noooooo?”

  “Never, ever let her drive your car,” Noah says, his husky voice dead serious. “I mean, even if you are on your death bed, don’t do it.”

  “I have driven Harry’s car, thank you very much, Miss Daisy,” I worm myself up more on his legs, enjoying the toasty warmth and the fact he isn’t freaking. Alby pushes his way until he’s between Noah and me. Noah’s hand pats him without a thought. Interesting. “You just aren’t an offensive driver.”

  “Offensive?” Noah’s laugh is tinged with disbelief, his sweet breath tickles my face. “You confused my car with a monster truck and the road a stadium! Offensive? You practically drove us to the cemetery and popped us in our graves.”

  “What?” I giggle, noticing Harry flinch slightly. “You let me drive for two minutes before you spat the dummy and practically climbed on top of me to put the brakes on. You were screaming!”

  “And you only got that much time because I was paralysed with fear,” he ruffles my hair. “That, honestly, was the scariest two minutes of my entire life and that’s saying something.” He tickles me under my arm.

  Something about his playfulness causes me to want to get him alone. “Let’s go out see the horses,” I sit up stiffly. Alby sits up to lick my face again and I use him to bolster myself up. Noah gets up but is decidedly wobbly almost falling over before righting himself.

  “Are you okay?” I grab his arm.

  Harry makes an err hum noise and flicks his eyes down to an empty bottle of Jim Beam.

  “Guess you’ll be staying the night,” I say.

  target practice

  Avalon

  Irene’s fingers in my hair don’t possess the strength of the ones who spent their time twisting and twirling my locks last night, causing me to audibly sigh and goosebumps to cascade down my neck but they do have a strange hypnotic calming effect. Really calming, because I don’t know how in hell her brushing is causing my eyes to continually drift shut considering what is going on in front of them... but they are.

  And I know why I’m not fighting it, it’s because when they close, I get to picture this morning. Waking up early and finding myself wedged between Amber’s back and Noah’s side, my leg thrown over his and my arm wrapped around his waist. It felt good, it felt right. I liked it. I more than liked it. And Noah, for the first time ever, swollen eye and bruised and battered shoulder clad in an old shirt of Harry’s, looked as peaceful as I could ever imagine him being. The way his face was free of all coldness and worry, the way his arm was curled around me without fear of his father’s words. All that, but mostly it was the way his hand was tangled in Amber’s mane. My heart felt funny.

  We didn’t start off like that though. I suppose I may have to thank Outlaw - in a weird way - for causing Noah to want to be extremely close to me. Bloody horses with sketchy backgrounds.

  We had spent a good deal of time the night before just brushing Amber, Cherokee and Peanut, Outlaw at that stage, was nowhere to be seen. Since he had started to get a bit stronger and steady on his legs he’d taken to exploring, which was fine because every step worked his muscles on his own accord and I couldn’t wait until he was well enough to get back into work.

  Cherokee couldn’t make up his mind who he wanted to brush him. He kept moving after a few seconds and tried to push in between the other horses and the groomer. Amber got jack of it pretty quickly and had decided to boot him into stillness… or leaving. Noah was chosen then, although Cherokee clearly wasn’t overly enthralled as Noah didn’t brush him at his preferred intensity or area. He’d kept turning and either pushing his butt at Noah or shoving his head under the brush, lifting it up for the brush to be moved over his head. I was impressed at Noah’s calmness with him, the way he berated him as he brushed him and Noah’s laughter made me smile when he giggled like a little kid when Cherokee would curl his lips back when Noah brushed his face.

  While we groomed, we played this word association game that Noah said people had tried to get to him to do after... his family ordeal. Slowly it changed into songs, Noah, by the way, does not know many songs. I will have to change that. Most of Noah’s answers were about fighting, cars or surfing and most of mine were to do with horses or farming. Big surprise. We got into giving crazy answers though that cracked us up. I wondered why people would want to know his answers after that happened in his life?

  As I watched Noah brush the geldings from under Amber’s neck, a plan started to formulate in my mind. It seemed touching - if it was rhythmic and I was talking or singing - got past some of his defences. Okay, that and maybe the fact that he was quite tipsy. He kept chuckling or staring at me through his one good green eye, sometimes though, a shadow past over his face and he frowned and put a lot of effort into brushing. Blood is not a great thing for Noah. Not his blood, or other people’s, it must bring back those haunting images.

  I kept thinking how words can change peoples’ lives. That the person who came up with the saying ‘sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me’ had to have been deaf. He had to of been without a doubt, words have hidden contraptions like ninja weapons that claw into your sto
mach and feast on the flesh they keep reopening. Dad’s words were doing that to me again and again even though I had put them in perspective. They kept popping up at random moments, and I kept trying to shove them down, but they were just too sticky to move. I can’t imagine what words accompanied by the brutal scene Noah had faced would have done to his insides.

  I wondered then if words held equal weighting. Because it seemed like bad words, derogatory words... angry words had more claws, or did it depend on the person? Did they have to have a good perspective of themselves to let the praise or good stuff sink in? To believe good words. It dawned on me what a massive thing it was for Noah to talk to me, because the words he spoke - that he believed caused the death of his parents- must have ripped him apart so much that the words his dad deemed to bestow on him burned through any senses like napalm, that every time he speaks he must weigh his words wondering what they will cause... what a toxic burden.

  I decided to make an effort then, to try to be the opposite, that each day if I saw something good, I would tell that person. I would be a planter of good words, if Noah were ever going to heal, or my words combat his father’s... I had to practice. It was kind of funny when I glanced at him after that because I keep wanting to say... ‘your biceps look really good when you brush horses,’ fricken sex octopus. It must be getting stronger to combat the pain in my side. But then again, those biceps and how torn up he looked were doing my head in.

  I reckoned then when he gave me this crooked smile that I could have conned him easily into brushing my hair, which I couldn’t stop thinking about him doing. I, unfortunately, had really unknotty hair due to being an Indian before which would be a dead giveaway so, on the premise of going to the loo, I thought I would go and muss it up a bit.

  Harry helped me when I went over to the house, he tried something he learned in the eighties called ‘teasing’ to mess my hair up ‘naturally’. I was lucky Noah was decidedly out to it because he would have thought I’d been electrocuted at least five hundred times, that’s how damn natural it looked. Harry had asked me quietly if I was alright, I played it off, but it was worrying that people could see my pain. I worked harder on ignoring it. On keeping it from my face.

  I was joking with Harry that he had been secretly paid off by Seth to destroy my hair when we heard Noah yell. It wasn’t the contrived yell I was expected all evening either, the one where Noah would pretend he was dying or growing horns from the shot I gave him. I’d been listening very carefully for that ready to get him back with an old wormer I’d washed out and filled up with honey and icing sugar coloured with green food dye. But it wasn’t a forced yell it was an oh shit yell. I sprinted to the door, my heart thudding in my chest, panicked by what I might find. What if you really couldn’t give penicillin to humans... or the more likely scenario, what if my math was wrong?

  I pulled up on the verandah as Noah stumbled out of the stable, he wasn’t stumbling of his own accord though, or due to growing horns or dying. The stumbling was caused by Outlaw hot on his heels, and it took me a second to register Outlaw’s body language because it was so surprising.

  “Shit,” Harry had breathed as I had whistled Amber in, who was just watching the scene like it was boring as hell, leaping on to her back when she neared the verandah, groaning at the sudden stab of intense pain, I had to grip her mane to stay on.

  Harry with a whip in his hand, had run toward Noah, who was on the ground pinned under Outlaw. The big grey horse had his ears back and teeth bared. Pawing at the ground best he could. If he could have reared, I’m betting my legs he would have. Harry cracked the whip, but Outlaw didn’t flinch or blink even for a second. Noah was fending him off as best he could and actually quite ably, I was glad he had good reflexes. I hadn’t put a halter on Outlaw because I didn’t want it to rub the fragile areas on his face, so there was no way to grab him, I couldn’t rope him either because his head was down trying to get at Noah. So, I did the next best thing and rode Amber straight into his side to push him away. Flea moved in front of Noah and helped him get to his feet, but it wasn’t over that easily because stubborn Outlaw was fanatical.

  Amber really had to put in to get him away, I was aiming to push him into the stable or the small paddock Flea opened in readiness. Harry was cracking the whip in front of Outlaw’s hard advances, but next thing Outlaw was off in another direction. Following the trajectory of Noah’s flying beer can. When it landed Outlaw pounced on it and grabbed it lifting it high between his teeth to let the fluid stream into his mouth. We all just watched him with wide eyes or furrowed brows.

  Once it was empty, the bugger shook it for any remaining dregs, dropped it like a petulant child, turned an evil eye on each of us in turn and sauntered off toward the darkness of the yard. Harry and Flea gave me a look that spoke volumes, we had to find more about Outlaw’s history. Who had him and how he was raised.

  That was why Noah stayed close to me in case it wasn’t the beer. I didn’t fight it. When he finally got around to brushing my hair as I sat between his legs; I was transported to heaven. The feel of his fingers working Harry’s natural knots out almost dulled my pain to bearable. I wouldn’t care if my days were like this, working, hanging out (maybe not the fighting thing or the pain...or Outlaw’s show of equine alcoholism... or reliving horrid moments) and being with the horses.

  I thought of asking him, ‘are we together?’ But I realised I didn’t need to ask, I mean some words matter but some don’t. I’m more of an action person anyway and the video Noah made me with that song said everything. We were together as I saw it and that’s what counted.

  Noah had been quiet for a while when I was thinking about that and when he spoke, I wondered if he were thinking along the same lines. He asked me had I ever thought of a song when I was with him.

  I had a multitude, but I picked the one that I had thought of the night of the bonfire when my sex octopus had taken over my brain. There were bits in it that were so us, the way it made me feel when he began to smile, the way he wouldn’t sit close and how I felt when he finally sat close enough to touch.

  Out of my element

  Take a breath we’re just hanging out

  Hope it’s not evident that you are all I’m thinking about

  And where this could go

  Trying to take it slow

  Feels like a free fall when I catch you staring at me

  I got a feeling that we both think we’re bad at this

  I got a feeling that the night’s gonna end with a kiss

  I always listen to my intuition

  So I, I’m gonna see this through

  I got a feeling ‘bout you

  You’re sitting next to me

  Barely even touching my skin

  And every move you make feels like a front-page event

  I think my hair’s a mess

  Heart beating through my chest

  How do I breathe?

  *1

  When I had sung it to him I turned around to gauge his expression, he stared at me for so long I wasn’t sure if he was about to run or what... obviously words were not going to be uttered, but he was thinking about something. After a minute I decided that maybe I’d crossed the line, I didn’t really care because it was true and that’s how I felt, but I didn’t want him to freak out. Instead of running though he cupped my face and kissed me. See? Together together, whether we label it or not. And what a kiss, it was deep and lit a raging furnace through my body.

  “Avalon,” A voice kept saying and I felt myself getting shaken gently. “Av? Sorry to wake you from whatever dream you are obviously enjoying but you have to run through the dance now with them if you can, so you’ll have time to make it to your dinner.”

  I pried open my eyes to find D crouching in front of me smiling, “I know who you were dreaming about.” She giggled.

  And I returned her laugh pushing myself to my feet. “I don’t have to get changed out of this to my leotard, do I?” I look down at the angel costu
me I’m wearing. I’d worn it all day, Harry and Flea rode with me down to the beach and we put a bouquet of flowers in the water for Henry. For some reason, I couldn’t cry, I wanted to but couldn’t. It made me miss home so much that I thought if I cried, I would lose it and pack myself up with Amber and go home. I had to be strong. My family are all supportive but generally, I find it’s Nathan that I end up going to, the one person I can let go with. I want him to be here so bad right it feels like it’s killing me.

  “No,” D stands up as well. “Irene would kill me if you messed her masterpiece up in your hair. How excited is she?”

  Relieved, I smile as I hug Irene and D to my sides. “Thank you, Irene. You have amazingly therapeutic hands! I cannot wait to do this thing! If that guy doesn’t fall over his feet to get you, we’ll kick his glasses maker to the curb.” I laugh as I walk into my position between Gwen and Irene. Everyone is there watching or about to get involved. We’d already sung through the whole Pussycat song, I almost couldn’t sing it because of the moves Irene and Gwen were doing.

  They’d set up Terry in a seat in front of the ‘stage’ to pretend to be Gerald and proceeded to ‘twerk’ in front of him and ply him with moves that had needed “two months of yoga” to perfect. I never knew I snorted when I laughed... Turns out I do.

  The whole “All the Single Ladies” dance proceeded to become like a tickle from someone with powerful hands. Extremely painful (for me) but hysterical in the most hilarious way. People are going to be on the floor wetting their pants when they see our dances. I absolutely love everyone here because they understand what it is to have a go, no one, even those in wheelchairs didn’t not want in. I can’t wait to do it for real. Everybody was laughing so much by the end of it that I felt like staying and forgoing my dinner with Mum. The thought of school though fixed that up quick smart though.

  Seth

  Mum fixed my shirt up as I soon as got out of the car, this dinner was big time for her, I could tell as I followed her precise and clipped instructions to go wait in line. I abhor these kinds of dinners, I’d rather be home playing Xbox or something instead of here, wishing Avalon was coming for the millionth time.