Tigers & Devils (28 page)

Okay, fear. I knew a lot of it was fear. But I hated admitting it, even to myself. Could someone who was gay suffer from their own form of homophobia? Or was it merely common sense and practicality combined with a desire for self-defence and protection?

All I knew was that it was too early in the morning for me to be having a philosophical debate with myself.

“You’re being very quiet,” Declan observed as we waited for the elevator. Obviously he couldn’t hear the voices in my head. Which was a relief. “Enjoy it while you can,” I said wryly.

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“I like your blabbing. I’m used to it. It scares me when I’m with you, and I suddenly realise I can hear something else in the silence.”

I smiled at him. “Arsehole.”

The elevator sounded its arrival. The doors slid open, and we stepped within. Back within our own personal bubble, Declan gently took my face in his hands and kissed me. Sense and practicality quickly left me, and I responded quite happily in return, but I didn’t get so lost that when the elevator began slowing down, I forgot to pull away.

“You better hope there are no cameras in here.”

“Only in the lobby,” he responded.

“You
do
think of everything,” I said in awe.

“Believe me, the money I’m forking out to live here, you get to ask these questions.”

“I wonder if you have any famous neighbours.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Like, imagine if there’s a knock at your door one day, and it’s Cate Blanchett asking for a cup of sugar.”

The elevator doors opened, and he led me down the hall. “Doesn’t she live in Sydney?”

“You own property in two states, why wouldn’t she?”

“I promise, if Cate wants a cup of sugar I’ll get her autograph for you.”

“Bugger that, I want her re-enacting scenes from
Elizabeth
in your loungeroom.”

Dec laughed, and we came to an abrupt stop at the end of the hall. A large window looked out onto the water. This place was so swanky, even the halls had views. Unlocking the door, Declan posed like a model on some game show. “Ta da!”

I walked through, and it was like I was hanging over the ocean. As his apartment was on the corner of the building, his windows took up half the walls of his lounge and kitchen area. “Holy shit,” I breathed.

“No view of Mount Wellington, but it’s pretty fucking good,” Dec said.

“You’re not kidding,” I murmured. “Wow.”

“So you approve?”

Suddenly I was ready to forget my ingrained sense of loyalty to the proletariat and sign my soul away. “Fuck yes.”

I walked over to the window and leaned against it. I could almost believe I was suspended in air. The wind carried the salt off the waves, and I could smell it even through the glass. Declan came up behind me; I could see his reflection. I turned, and he waved the keys at me.

“Come out onto the balcony.”

194 | SEAN KENNEDY

I followed him. We leaned against the railing, the water far below us. The wind was fresh and strong. I closed my eyes and breathed it in.

“I’ll miss you while I’m gone,” Declan said suddenly.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I’ll miss you too.”

“I feel pretty shitty, running off to the Grand Final today, and then leaving tomorrow. This is the last time I’ll see you for a couple of weeks.”

“Hey,” I said reassuringly, “it’s the way it is. It’s cool.” I was just glad he was saying it, because I knew I never could have brought it up out of fear I would sound whingy and clingy.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“It’ll be better when I get back. Off season, and I’ll have more time here.”

“Plus, you’ll be incapacitated, and you won’t be able to run,” I said, alluding to his operation. “That helps.”

He laughed. “Bastard.”

“I look forward to making you chicken noodle soup and mopping your fevered brow.”

“You would make me soup?”

I winced. “From a packet, probably.”

“Hey, if I’m getting operated on, I want the real thing.”

“What about if I get Fran to make it and then pretend it was me?”

“The way you’re going, I seriously doubt you’ll be speaking to Roger by then.”

“Hey!” I protested. “I’m talking to Fran!”

“And I want soup made from scratch. By you.”

Time to change the subject while I still was able. “I could just imagine lying out here all day and reading. Why would you ever want to go inside?”

Declan shook his head, knowing what I was transparently up to, but letting me get away with it for the moment. “Because there isn’t enough room for a bed?”

“There is for a banana lounge.”

“I’ll have to invest in one then.”

“Make sure it’s big enough for two,” I said with a glint in my eye. He looked at me, and the air between us was growing serious again. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he was holding it back. I wasn’t sure if it was the moment, but I
wanted
to say it, what I had wanted to tell him ever since that moment I had let go by a couple of weeks ago.

“Dec—”

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We were saved—or cruelly interrupted—by the security buzzer as it sounded within the apartment. “That must be Abe and Lisa,” he said, giving my arm a quick squeeze before going to let them in.

For fuck’s sake. Would I ever be able to get it together?

I wasn’t left pondering this rhetorical question very long as Abe and Lisa made it up in record time. We exchanged greetings; Abe shook my hand and gave a manly hug and back slap to Declan, while Lisa kissed us both.

“This place is amazing,” Abe said. “Two waterfront apartments, Dec. Good to know where
your
salary is going.”

“This puts my little place in St Kilda to shame,” Lisa agreed.

“I like your place in St Kilda,” Declan told her. “It’s close to the beach and the Espy, and that’s all you want.”

She shrugged affably. “Not if you like your view to be of the next complex’s wall.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Abe said. “When I get traded, we’ll buy a place like this.”

“You want to get traded as well?” I asked.

Abe nodded. “Melbourne’s home.”

“I bet you the Devils will hate to lose both of you.”

“They won’t have any choice when contracts are up,” Lisa said, sounding less than sympathetic towards the club.

“Maybe we should buy in here so Dec can never escape us,” Abe said, with a devilish glint in his eye.

“Fuck no, I’m meant to have classy neighbours,” Dec laughed. “I’ve heard Cate Blanchett is buying in.”

Abe feigned a punch to him, and Dec sidestepped it gracefully.

“I only meant Abe, of course,” Dec told Lisa. “I know
you’re
classy.”

“Too bloody right,” Lisa replied. “And just to show how classy I am….”

She began burrowing into the large tote bag she was carrying and produced a Frij bag. Abe rolled his eyes at Declan, and they both laughed with the easy camaraderie of friendship that gave me a pang for Roger again. Lisa produced four plastic cups and a cheap bottle of champagne that was still chilled.

“Let’s drink to your new abode!”

Declan did the honours; the pop of the cork sounded like a gunshot in the empty apartment and reverberated around the stark walls. The contents of the bottle were shared amongst the four large cups, and we toasted the apartment and drank, all making faces at the cheap taste.

Abe looked at his watch and said regretfully, “We better get going.”

He and Lisa began talking amongst themselves, pointedly looking in the other direction to give Declan and I some privacy. Dec pulled me aside into the hall.

196 | SEAN KENNEDY

“I hate rushed goodbyes,” he said. “And I hate having to say it here like this, instead of when we actually should.”

I nodded. There was nothing more I could add to that. I recalled what I had been about to say on the balcony and wished I could say it now, but the presence of Abe and Lisa stopped me. It shouldn’t have, but it wasn’t an ideal moment.

“I really like the apartment,” I said lamely.

He leaned in and kissed me. I hugged him close and whispered, “Hurry back.”

Dec smiled at me. “I will.”

He pulled away, and all I wanted to do was pull him back. Declan clapped his hands together. “Let’s go and see how real footballers make it to a grand final.”

Abe laughed, and Lisa shook her head, rolling her eyes at me for my benefit. We locked the apartment behind us and walked through the Docklands precinct. Declan was starting to get really excited over the thought of living here, although I think it was the thrill of having a home in Melbourne again that was more appealing to him. We parted ways at the junction of the station and Collins Street. Abe and Declan thought they would be better off walking down to the MCG and remaining barely unrecognisable rather than risk jumping on a tram and being hemmed in by other AFL

supporters and detractors. Lisa baulked at the idea and insisted that they would have to piggyback her most of the way.

“Don’t let the hobbits kidnap him in New Zealand,” I told Abe.

“I won’t.” He grinned, bumping fists with me by way of farewell. Lisa grabbed me and hugged me. I held onto her for a little longer than I would have normally, pretending it was Declan’s hug by proxy. “We’ll catch up soon, okay?”

“Sure.”

Declan and I awkwardly bumped fists, in the same fashion I had with Abe.

“Take care,” I said.

“Call—”

“Roger. Yes, I know, Oprah.”

He winced. “You could at least call me Dr. Phil so I feel secure about my masculinity.”

Abe guffawed, and Lisa punched him on the shoulder lightly.

“If you’re going by Dr. Phil to prove your masculinity, I would still stick with Oprah if I were you,” I scoffed.

“Bye, Simon.”

I waved them off and watched them turn and leave, disappearing down Collins on their way to cut across to the G at Elizabeth. My tram came quickly, and as it rattled down the middle of the street I craned my neck to catch sight of them once more. The

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three of them waved at me through the window, looking comfortable together, like the Three Musketeers. I waved back and remembered in the story that there were eventually four.

I hoped that would be the same with us one day.

WHEN I got home, I checked my answering machine immediately in the hope that Roger had left a message.

He hadn’t.

Before I could lose my nerve, I picked up the phone and called his number. The answering machine swung into action. Again. “You’ve reached Roger and Fran. We can’t take your call, so let us know who you are.”

He
had
to be home. It was half an hour to the Grand Final, for Christ’s sake!

Unless… he had
gone out
for the final. It was inconceivable, but it could be possible. Or maybe he and Fran were holding a huge barbecue with all of their new friends…

“Uh, hi,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me. Again. Look, I know when I was pissed with you, you knew that it wouldn’t be forever. Just as I know now, when you’re pissed with me, that it’s not going to be forever. So I hope it’s sooner rather than later that we do the inevitable and talk. See ya.”

I think that is what’s called
laying it all out on the line
. This would be the first time since I was twelve years old that I would be watching the final without Roger. I’m pretty sure that fact wouldn’t be lost on him either, and I guess I was hoping for a last-minute miracle, like one from a really bad Christmas telemovie where everything becomes all right in the end. I was still thinking that during the pre-game entertainment, and into the first quarter. At halftime I was losing hope. The beers were going down smoothly though, and my lunch of a large packet of cheese and onion chips was more than satisfying. I caught one brief glimpse of Declan on the telly, sitting in one of the VIP boxes with the rest of his team as they watched the game unfold below.

I fell asleep before the end of the game and was awakened by the phone ringing. Hoping it was either Dec or Roger, I stumbled over and answered it, trying to sound like I wasn’t recently brought back from the dead.

“’ello?”

“Hey, mate! How are you? Did you watch the game?”

The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. “’o’s this?”

“Very funny. Are you drunk?”

It clicked into place. “Tim?”

198 | SEAN KENNEDY

You have to understand my surprise here. Tim hardly ever called me of his own volition. The only way I could have been
more
surprised was if it had been my father.

“Of course it’s bloody Tim!”

“Uh, how are you?” I asked politely.

“Good, good. That’s why I’m calling, actually.”