Munro vs. the Coyote

by Darren Groth

  Tears spill from the corners of my eyes and scoot toward the dry ground. Caro’s shadow falls across much of my upper body. It sways and quivers.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever totally get over it. But I think I’m ready to get through it.” I sit up. “Can you get over me ditching on Vaccination Day?”

  She laughs. She says she has to because I now know what an ugly crier she is. Not a good look for a kick-ass lawyer.

  “By the way,” I add, “forget the closing argument for my goodbye. I’m not going home now. I’m staying. Till the end of the exchange.”

  Caro is perfectly still for a moment, and then she launches herself at me. We roll around and grab at each other, the baked grass crunching beneath our bodies. We kiss. Somewhere in the tangle, my right hand takes hold of hers.

  On the horizon, thunder pounds, like a single, long, strong heartbeat.

  When I knock on the Hydes’ front door, all three answer.

  “Omigod, Munro,” says Nina, wrapping herself around me with Kraken-like limbs. “I’m so glad you’re back. We were worried. Not frantic—we knew where you were—but still worried. Why didn’t you use your key to get in? Did you lose it? What happened to your hand? Are you hurt? Do we need to take you to the doctor? Geordie, call Doctor Hallinan. Are you staying here now? Or are you staying at Fair Go for a bit? We want you here, but we understand if you need more time. Geordie can drive you there.”

  “Other Mother,” I reply, “that’s a lot to take in. I think ‘I’m here and I’m good’ probably covers everything.”

  The trio shepherds me into the kitchen. Nina, Geordie and I sit on the stools. Rowan hoists himself onto the island.

  “Row showed us your text,” says Geordie. “We’re rapt you’re not going home just yet, mate.”

  “You sure about that? I lied to you guys. I sneaked around behind your backs. I made your son an accessory.”

  “No doubt you had to twist his arm.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you called it quits. Honestly.”

  Geordie pats the left side of his chest. “We’re not pulling up stumps, but we do expect a medal for our bravery.”

  “You deserve one.”

  “The look you’ve got on your face right now, champ…that’s enough.”

  “I’m going to cook a pav tonight to celebrate that look,” adds Rowan.

  I feel heat in my cheeks and forehead. “Thank you. You guys are amazing. There hasn’t been much to celebrate to this point. But I’m going to be at my best from now on.” I drape an arm over each Hyde parent and draw them close. “How do you feel about having a perfect exchange student the rest of the way? It’ll be just like a video on the YOLO website. Let’s call it No More Down Under Achiever.”

  My bedroom. Minus last night, my final place of rest for the past hundred days. My final place of rest for the next hundred.

  Mister Koala is still beside the alarm clock. He didn’t move during my absence. Clearly, he wasn’t concerned. He knew I’d be back. And he kept himself busy with the job he was assigned to do. I give him a small salute, then pick him up in my left hand. With my right, I lift the black pawn from his grip.

  I unzip the top pocket of my empty suitcase. Evie’s ruby-red ribbon—tied to the handle when I made the trip over—is coiled so it looks like a tiny nest. I drop the chess piece in and close the pocket.

  You’re not going home after all, Munro.

  Not today, Coyote. Not tomorrow.

  You’re here for the whole exchange.

  I am.

  Then you go home.

  Then I go home. Me.

  Is this where we part ways? Where we say goodbye?

  I think it is.

  Munro?

  Yes?

  Your father was right.

  About what?

  Evie wanted you by her side. At the end.

  THE LAST TIME

  Familiar landmarks rush by. Houses on stilts. Beer billboards. The golf course. An abandoned trailer. Coal cars covered in graffiti. I can almost close my eyes and know where I am and what comes next. Forget what comes next—I want to be in this moment for as long as possible.

  “We’ve sold over two hundred now.”

  I turn away from the window and pat Caro on the knee. “Sorry?”

  She taps the E-LIFE button on her purse. “Two hundred and seventeen sold, to be exact. In just four weeks.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

  “It’s not just me, Munro.”

  “I know, I know. Renee and Maeve and Digger are amazing too.”

  “You forgot about Rowan.”

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “Munro!”

  “Kidding!”

  Caro gives me a small shove and worms an arm around my elbow. “Dig’s going to ask Jessica Mauboy to the semiformal tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “He figures five months’ notice is more than enough.”

  “I guess. Is there still a whole thing planned for it?”

  Caro nods. “After he sends the tweet, we’re all going to watch a movie together. Forgetting Sarah Marshall or She’s Out of My League. One of those. Rowan’s going to cook us all dinner.” Caro arches an eyebrow. “Are you going to come?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t want you doing it just for me.”

  I laugh. “Full of yourself, aren’t you, Ms. Wakefield? I’ll be there on behalf of the Foundation, to say thank you to the gang for all their hard work. And She’s Out of My League just happens to be my favorite film of all time.”

  “Oh, really? It’s knocked Mad Max: Fury Road out of number one?”

  “She’s Out of My League has better stunts.”

  Caro bursts out laughing. She snuggles up to my shoulder as I tune back in to the Brisbane landscape coasting past the window. Wooden fences. Rugby fields. A car-repair business called Dent Doctor.

  “I think you’re going to miss riding this train when you go home, Munro.”

  I note the glum look accompanying the words. “Hey, it’s only June. There’s still two and a half months left in the exchange. That’s a lifetime.”

  “Lifetimes go quick.”

  “Not always.”

  “You think we’ll stay together when this ‘lifetime’ is over?”

  “Why not? Thunder always follows lightning.”

  “I thought I was the lightning.”

  “Nah, you’re the Thunder. From Down Under.”

  Caro rolls her eyes and pretend gags. “One monthiversary,” she says. “Doesn’t feel like we’ve been going out for that long. Feels a lot longer.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I’ve booked us into a great place tonight. Liber8. Top atmosphere, really chill. You’re gonna love it.”

  I remove Caro’s smirk with a tickling barrage. She squeals and bucks and threatens to use the Kookaburra Laugh on me. She doesn’t get the chance—the train starts slowing down, and the automated PA message tells us our stop is next.

  Kelvin hands me a present. I tear open the wrapping.

  “The official Munro Maddux Straya Tour DVD and T-shirt,” he says. “It’s not what we’re putting up on the site. This is a special director’s cut, just for you. About fifteen minutes long.”

  I hand the DVD to Caro and examine the shirt. All the tour dates and destinations are printed on the back, twelve stops in total. Bribie Island figures twice. Boggo Road is there.

  “Want to watch the video?”

  “Have we got time?” she asks.

  “We have. The guys aren’t looking to get started just yet.”

  The title hits the TV screen, and the first frames show the bus door opening wide. Kelvin, sitting in the driver’s seat, turns to the camera and points. “Munro Maddux…this is for you from all of us!”

  Footage rolls, starting with the trip to South Bank, followed by snippets from the rest of the tour. Expected moments of awesomeness dominate—Flo-jitsu
lessons, SNAP reminders, sketchbook scribbling—but there are surprises too. Long wigs mimicking my hair. A Three Things I Love About My Living Partner survey. Karaoke of “O Canada.” Discussion about who would win a fight between me and Justin Bieber (I’m the unanimous pick). Then there are the gut punchers. Dale and Blake at the beach, her head on his shoulder. Shah sleeping on the bus, soccer ball in his lap. All the action is paced by Aussie music from Kelvin’s bus playlists—Tame Impala, Hilltop Hoods, Dick Diver, Alison Wonderland, Daniel Johns.

  Despite several chin wobbles and breath catches, I manage to keep it together. Caro doesn’t even try. She sniffs and sighs and fusses with her eyes from the first image to the last. Fair Go has found a little corner of her heart as well. I’m guessing she’ll keep coming here after I leave.

  “What’d you think of that?” asks Kelvin, replacing the DVD in its case.

  “Loved every second.”

  “Favorite moments?”

  “All the shots of me walking side by side with the guys.”

  “Nice. Anything you would like to have seen that wasn’t on there?”

  I exhale hard. “The wedding. The games of checkess.”

  Kelvin nods. “You want to leave this stuff here until you go?”

  “Sure.”

  “Righto then!” Kelvin claps his hands. “Let’s see what these guys have planned for you, young fella!”

  “We wanted to party,” says Bernie, straddling the Shed’s closest sideline, “because the Straya Tour is finished, and because this is the last time we’ll be together like this.”

  Caro winds an arm around my waist, sensing I might need a bit of propping up.

  “The last time?” I ask.

  “Correct. The group won’t be the same after today.”

  “How come?”

  “Us four—the team that’s left from the Straya Tour—we’ll be five tomorrow.”

  “A new resident is moving in!” says Iggy.

  To House 4, adds Dale.

  “That’s right. A stranger. Someone we’ve never met before. So we wanted to make today special. Just for us.”

  I scan the group and swallow hard. “Man, I love you guys.” Faces beam. Eyes glint. “Here’s to us. The last time.”

  Kelvin clears his throat. “Okay, this is supposed to be a party, not a Harlequin romance. Let’s get it started!”

  Bernie launches into Pink’s song and disappears into the storeroom. She returns dragging the Bauer bags.

  “Floor hockey, my fellow Freetards?”

  For almost an hour, we play three on three with scorers being subbed out. Then I throw on the goalie gear for one last shootout. I get beat glove side, blocker, five-hole—not all of them are whiffs. Quite a few are quality shots. The team’s improved a ton since the first session. And the progress will continue: Bernie says lunchtime floor-hockey games will start soon. Peer-to-peer training of the other residents is in the works. Iggy adds that he wants to learn the art of goaltending and take ownership of the equipment. Making saves like a superhero, like Infecto. He’s all over that.

  As we pack up the bags, Kelvin brings a cake out on a cart. It’s in the shape of Australia. In the center are two fondant figures—a bottle of Bundaberg rum and a bottle of Coke. The writing on the cake says A Good Time, Not A Long Time.

  “Rowan from your host family put it together,” says Kelvin. “His dad, Geordie, dropped it off last night. He assured me there’s no rum in it.”

  We slice it up and hand it around. I’m face deep in a second helping of South East Queensland when Caro touches me on the shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re all pale. And sweaty.”

  “The guys were awesome in the game. Got my heart going, for sure.”

  “They seem to be pretty good at that.” Caro smiles and notes the time. “I’m heading off now. I need time to make myself gorgeous for tonight.”

  “Two minutes is all you need.” Caro says I’m sweet, then brushes away the crumbs I sprayed on her shirt.

  “You want to come?” she asks.

  I look around the Shed, then at the walkway leading to the outside. “Think I’ll stick around. Just for a bit longer.”

  Caro nods, and we kiss. Dale fires up the iPad:

  AWW YEAH!

  “Don’t be too long,” she says, placing her hand on my cheek. “Don’t make me come and get you.”

  The Creative Arts Precinct, the Digital Media Center, the Agriculture Precinct, the Rec Refuge, the Recycling Depot, the kitchen, the cafeteria. I imagine each one lifted up, carried across the ocean and set down on the Chilliwack land. I see Evie looking them over. Though I can’t hear her voice, I know she would want changes. Nicer plants. Bigger chairs. Wooden floors out. Thick carpet in. Less white. More ruby red. I can actually visualize her as a resident too. Is it because the Coyote’s gone? Or because the sign at the front entrance would bear her name. Or because she would be right at home among the Bernies and the Florences and the Iggys and the Dales living there. I don’t know. Maybe all of the above.

  At the central intersection in Fair Go, signs pointing the separate ways, Bernie breaks the silence. “Is there anywhere else you want to go, Munro?”

  I look toward House 4, with its palm trees and its welcome mat and its long windows. The small patio out front and the gentle ramp down the side.

  “One more thing.”

  I haven’t seen the place since my overnight stay. It’s alive again. The dust is gone. The air has a lemony scent. Everything from floor to ceiling has been given a scrub. Scuffs and marks and old fingerprints have vanished—in their place are bright patterns and gleaming surfaces. A fish tank with four residents sits on the sideboard.

  “Looks like it’s ready,” I say.

  Bernie nods. “We are too.”

  “Freetard cap on the hatstand? Nice.”

  “I thought it would be a good welcoming present. You think so?”

  “Definitely.”

  The front door creaks. Soft, swishy footsteps float down the hall. I look at the others, brow crinkled.

  “It’s just us, Kelvin,” I say. “Don’t worry—we’re not messing up the place. Kelvin?”

  “Who you talkin’ to?” asks Florence.

  “You all right?” adds Iggy. “You don’t look so good.”

  I breathe through dry lips, unable to calm myself with a count. I look around house 4. It’s suddenly different. Far away. Off in the distance. Blurred background for the surprise visitor.

  “Evie?” I whisper.

  My head dips. It stays down, my short-circuiting eyes staring at my sternum. A grunt pushes out of my mouth. My heart is in a vice. I feel shooting pain in my hand. My left, not my right. My feet crumble. I fall.

  And it is Evie I see. She kneels beside me. She’s just as I hoped she’d be. Ski-jump nose. Pixie ears. Big tongue. Eyes the color of Kalamalka Lake. The ribbon in her caramel hair is ruby red. Same color as her lips.

  She listens for breathing.

  She checks for a pulse.

  She starts to press on my chest.

  THE END

  Are you there?

  Yes.

  I can’t see you now.

  No. But you can hear me.

  Is it really you, Evie?

  It’s me.

  Not the Coyote?

  The Coyote is gone, Munro.

  Where’s the team? Are they okay?

  They’re fine.

  You sure?

  Cross my heart, hope to die.

  Not funny. Where are we?

  You’re here.

  Where’s here?

  Where you are now.

  I don’t like it here.

  I figured.

  I’m supposed to be meeting up with Caro. It’s our one monthiversary. She’ll be waiting. I have to go.

  You can’t.

  Why not?

  Because you need to stay.

  For how long?

&nb
sp; Until you get better.

  This is bullshit, Evie. I got better already. Now I have to do it again?

  Sometimes Life takes on a life of its own.

  You heard Kelvin say that.

  No, I heard you say that.

  I don’t want to die, Evie.

  Everyone has to die.

  I mean, I don’t want to die now.

  I know.

  The Coyote’s probably waiting for me.

  Things are different now, Munro. You can hear me. If he tries to mess with you again, I’ll give him the Kookaburra Laugh.

  Yeah?

  Of course! Someone has to watch out for you and protect you.

  True dat.

  Okay, I have to go now, but I have a present for you. It’s next to you. Do you like it?

  Another squirrel tie?

  No, it’s the one I gave you for grad. You should put it on tonight for Caro.

  But you said I can’t leave here!

  Just take it, okay?

  Thank you, Evie.

  You’re welcome.

  Hey, Evie?

  Yes?

  I’m sorry I let you go.

  You didn’t.

  I’m not talking about when I was teaching you to ride a bike.

  Neither am I.

  I’m so sorry, Evie.

  Don’t be. I’m glad we were together then. I’m glad we’re together now.

  Talk to you soon, little sister.

  Right back atcha, big brother.

  I love you.

  I love you too.

  Goodbye.

  REST IN PEACE

  “Hello.”

  I open my eyes a fraction. The light muscles in, grinding on my vision like sandpaper. I blink in double time.

  “You were away for a bit there.”

  The scene softens. Watery blurs begin to take shape and find definition. I’m in a bed. A machine with numbers and graphs stands to my right. Under it are white boxes and blue bins. To my left are tubes, thick and thin, going up, going down. One tracks into my nose, another into my arm. Wires are stuck to my chest.

  “So glad to have you back.”

  Anxious faces surround me. The Hydes. Caro. Kelvin.