Tigers & Devils (29 page)

“Oh?” Because he was good?

“Yeah. Guess what?”

This was Tim, my guess could be anything. “You need bail?”

He laughed. “Yeah, right. No, I was ringing up to tell you that Gabby and I just got engaged.”

If I didn’t have such a good grip on the phone I would have dropped it. “What?”

“Yeah, I proposed to her after the final.”

“Did she say yes?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course she did, arsewipe. Or else I wouldn’t be ringing you up to say we’re engaged, would I?”

“Oh, of course. Well… congratulations.”

“Thanks, bro. Who would have thought I would have gotten married before you?”

He paused and chuckled. “Well, of course, you can’t.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I said dryly.

“You would also have to be seeing someone first.”

All I could think was
I hope I’m not best man.

He didn’t make the offer, and I was relieved. “How did Mum and Dad react?”

“Way more excited than you.”

I knew I better muster up some energy. “No, really, Tim, I’m very happy for you. Have you set a date yet?”

“We’re giving ourselves a year.”

“That’s probably sensible. You know, giving yourself enough time to plan and save, and all.”

“Yeah. I mean, I wanted January, but Gabby insisted on a year.”

“You were ready to get married that soon?” I wondered what it was about Gabby that she managed to become the Annette Bening to his Warren Beatty. But then, people might think that about Simon Murray when it came to trying to find a reason for Declan liking me.

Tim laughed good-naturedly. “When you know, you know.”

I think it was the only time I have ever heard my brother say something unrelated to football that I could agree with. Except I couldn’t tell him that. It was his moment, anyway; and I was happy for him to have it.

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I wanted to ring up Roger so I could share the news and the
what the fuck?
reaction. Declan wouldn’t be able to understand the bizarreness of this new development in my family history, as he wasn’t a part of it. But in the end I thought I had harassed the Daltons’ machine enough this weekend.

My mother called about ten minutes after Tim got off the phone, and she sounded drunk with happiness at the prospect that one of her sons was getting hitched. Especially as this had the universal meaning to mothers everywhere of the promise of grandchildren to follow.

“There’s just one thing I’m not happy about,” she said. That’s another thing about mothers. There’s
always
something they’re not happy about. “That your favourite son is being taken away from you?”

“No, not that,” she said haughtily. And then added as an afterthought, “and I don’t have a favourite.”

“What, then?”

“Well, he didn’t ask you to be his best man.”

“Why should he?”

“Because you’re his brother.”

“But we barely associate with each other. His best man should be one of his bogan best friends.”

Mum sighed. “It’s
tradition
, Simon.”

“Whose tradition?” I asked. “And it’s his wedding. He can do what he wants.”

“But—”

“Seriously, Mum. If he’s not fussed, and I’m not fussed, why are you?”

“Because people will think it’s odd that you’re not—”

“
That’s
what you’re worried about?”

“I just also want my two sons to be brothers to each other occasionally.”

“That’s not going to happen if I’m forced to arrange his buck’s night.”

I could tell Mum was getting agitated. “Simon—”

“Let it go, Mum. Just be glad it’s happening for one of your sons. Don’t worry about the minor details.”

She wasn’t happy when she got off the phone, and I knew it probably wouldn’t be the last time I heard about this issue. The engagement ring hadn’t even been placed on Gabby’s finger yet, and somehow I was already being sucked into the drama.

THE sound of a message coming through on my mobile woke me the next morning.
I’ll call you when I get to the land of the long white cloud.

200 | SEAN KENNEDY

I smiled and stretched out with a mighty yawn. Rather Declan shooting the rapids and bungee-jumping in New Zealand than me. Well, he probably wouldn’t be bungeejumping, the bosses wouldn’t want him doing anything that could jar his knee. Besides, they would probably be touring the pubs more than anything else. My Sunday passed uneventfully, reading the papers and doing some planning for the festival, which involved a lot of talking on the phone with Nyssa. I kept listening out for the beeping of call waiting, expecting Declan and hoping for Roger, but we remained undisturbed.

While I was making cheese on toast for dinner, the phone finally rang. I picked up, nursing a finger I had burned on the grill. “Hello?”

There was the sound of an intake of breath, and then Declan said, “Simon?”

“Hey, you arrived safely then?”

He took a deep, shaky breath.

“Dec? What’s wrong?”

“I’m still in Melbourne.”

“Why?” Worry began to build in me. He did not sound like himself at all, like he was trying to hold it together but was teetering on the brink of total meltdown.

“I’m at St. Vincent’s.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine….” He broke off, and sniffed.

“Dec—”

“Can you come here?” he asked, his voice shaky. “My dad’s had a heart attack.”

I FOUND Declan in the garden in the middle of the St Vincent’s Hospital complex. He was in a secluded corner, mostly hidden away by hedges and large trees, sitting on a wooden bench and staring dully ahead of him.

I wanted to hold him, but we weren’t in a private enough space. Declan put an end to any internal rationalisations I was having though as he saw me and jumped up, pulling me into him. I wrapped my arms around him, and he burrowed his head into my shoulder. I could feel him shake slightly as he tried to control his breathing, but the tears took him over and all I could do was stand there and let him cry. When he finally calmed a little, I manoeuvred him over to the bench and sat beside him.

“Are you okay?” I asked stupidly.

He tried to smile at me, but failed. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Is there an update on your dad?”

“He’s still in surgery.”

“Christ, Dec, what happened?”

He took a deep shaky breath. “I was at the airport, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive when my sister called me. I jumped into a taxi and got here as the ambulance was bringing him in. Apparently he just keeled over at home, right in the hallway—”

He broke off and wiped his hand across his eyes.

I looked around to see if there was anybody in the vicinity, then inwardly berated myself for doing so. If a guy couldn’t comfort another visibly distressed guy in the grounds of a hospital, then when would it be okay? I put my arm around his shoulders, and he leaned in to me.

“I’m so pissed at myself,” he said suddenly.

“Why?”

“Because I was up there with my family, and we’re all stressed and crying, and whenever I managed to stop thinking about Dad for one second, all I wanted was to see you.”

“You can’t be pissed off with yourself for that,” I told him.

“Why not? I should be thinking of my dad,” he argued.

202 | SEAN KENNEDY

“Because we’re human. And when we’re upset we want comforting. So we turn to the person we want for that comfort.”

He didn’t answer.

“Are they all still upstairs?”

“Yeah, my mum told me to go and get some air and walk it off. I think I was driving her crazy.”

“Do you want to go back up there?”

He looked at me. “But I just dragged you all the way out here—”

“Like I care. And like I wouldn’t want to be here to help you.” I rubbed his arm in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. “Besides, I’ll stay here. And if you need to, you can come down again and talk to me.”

“What, you’ll stay out here?”

“All night, if I have to,” I replied honestly. I would have done anything to help him feel the least bit better; besides, he called
me
to come to him, not Abe, not Lisa.

“And you wonder why I—” He stopped and looked away.

“What?”

He changed track awkwardly. “One other thing I was thinking about when I should have been thinking about my father… I thought, what if that had been me in his place?

All I would want is you to be there, but you wouldn’t be, because my family doesn’t even know about you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. And that’s not fair, Simon. It’s not fair to you or to me.”

A tiny rivulet of sweat caused by fear ran down my neck. This was sounding dangerously close to a breakup speech. “You already have enough on your mind, Dec. Don’t start worrying about stuff that hasn’t even happened.”

“I bet my father didn’t foresee his Sunday afternoon including a heart attack,”

Declan said bitterly.

“Probably not. But still—”

“I’m in hospital
next month
, Simon. If we go on like this, the best you can probably do is come in as a ‘friend’ of Abe and Lisa’s without incurring too many questions from my family. That’s not good enough.”

“And we’ll worry about that when the time comes. You have to concentrate on your dad—”

He cut me off by kissing me, hungrily and desperately. His breathing was laboured, and his cheek was wet against mine. His lips stopped working and rested upon my own, but he remained locked in position, not wanting to let go. I traced along his jaw with the edge of my knuckle, gently, not shying away from his intense stare.

TIGERS AND DEVILS | 203

And even though it was probably the worst moment to do so, the words came rushing out of me which should have weeks ago, because I knew how fucking
true
they were. “I love you.”

He pulled back, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I know this isn’t the time to say it—” I started feebly.

“Say it again.”

I looked at him steadily, without hesitation. “I love you.”

Declan laughed and, if I was reading him right, looked relieved. “You don’t know how many times I’ve been hoping to hear you say that.”

I couldn’t believe it had been so difficult to say, but now all I wanted was to hear it from him.

He didn’t keep me in suspense. “I love you too. But you already knew that.”

“It’s not that I didn’t back then, it was just—”

He kissed me. “I know.”

“You should really go up and check on your family,” I said, although there was a selfish part of me that wanted to keep him down here after such a huge moment between us.

“Yeah, I should.” He kissed me again and then stood. “I hate to send you away, but go home.”

“I want to be here for you,” I told him.

“Thank you. But you’ve already done it, more than you think.”

Looking at how much calmer he appeared now than he had five minutes ago, I had to accept that. “You’ll call, right?”

He nodded. “Bye, babe.”

I watched him walk away with his hands jammed in his pockets. I became aware that our little corner of the garden was not as concealed as I had first thought, but the space was empty and night had fallen while we were talking. I stared at the tall building above me; all the lighted windows of rooms in which miracles and tragedies were currently taking place, and hoped that for Declan’s father, it would be the former. I’m not sure how long I sat there, but a teenager walking past me jolted me out of my daydream. He scowled at me, and I scowled back, wondering what his problem was; then realised that in this place he probably had his own drama to deal with. I reluctantly got up, and started back to the car park.

BACK home I was restless and anxious, wondering how Declan, his father, and his family were. It felt strange to have so much emotion invested in a man who didn’t even know I existed, and although I knew it was because my ties were to Declan’s well-being more than anything else, I still hoped that they were all coping.

204 | SEAN KENNEDY

I ended up falling asleep on the couch and was woken by a text message coming through.

Dad conscious. Still waiting to hear from doctors.
That was good, at least. I sent back a quick reply and set my mobile’s alarm to wake me in the morning. I couldn’t be bothered getting up and going to bed. When the alarm started sounding, I got up as if in a daze, fed Maggie, had a shower, and stumbled out the door. I tried to read the paper on the tram but couldn’t concentrate. Just as I made it through the doors at work a new message came in from Declan.
Didn’t want to wake you. Dad is pretty out of it, but docs say more of a warning
than anything else. Keeping him in for obs for a few days. Staying at mum’s as she needs
us, but will call you.

So, what a difference a night makes. Declan had thought his world was crashing around him only twelve hours ago, and now things were looking up again. Despite sleeping badly, I also felt re-energised and surprised Nyssa with a cheerfulness that was hardly ever my habit on a Monday morning.

It wasn’t to last.

At about two in the afternoon, Nyssa came into the office with a bewildered expression. She had the PM edition of the
Herald Sun
in her hand.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I think the secret you’ve been keeping has just come out,” she murmured. “No pun intended.”

She laid the newspaper before me, and I felt my stomach drop when I saw the headline.

AFL STAR IN SECRET GAY SHOCKER!

And there, plastered to the left of the sea of print was a box in which a series of photos of Declan and I in the gardens of St. Vincent’s Hospital appeared. They hadn’t left anything to the imagination—one of us hugging, one of us kissing, and finally one of me sitting on the bench alone.

“So what’s the story?” Nyssa asked.

I couldn’t move, I was rooted to the spot with such a sense of dread. “Looks like they’ve already got it.”