60
Ryan
I’m sitting in the back row, back in my rightful place. Despite my permanent position in the team, I feel much more at ease back here, in the background: hidden, silent, pissed off.
And this time, it’s at myself.
The coach is talking, showing us the tactic diagrams for next Saturday, outlining the opposition’s strengths and weaknesses – but I’m not listening to a single word he says. The only words ringing around my head are hers.
All so painful. All so true.
Christine made the best decision for both of us in finishing things right away, before one of us got hurt. And I can’t do anything but accept the decision, and admire her strength and maturity: two traits I’ll never have, not even in twenty years’ time.
The coach sends us all home. I get up from my seat and head towards the changing rooms to gather up my stuff, but the world’s most irritating couple resurface. They haven’t finished with me yet.
“What do you two want?” I ask right away, cutting right to the chase.
“Something wrong?” Jamie asks.
“Nothing you two can’t solve.”
“Ah, got it. Trouble with the ladies.”
“Not ladies. Just one,” Ian cuts in.
“The one who came to the match?” Jamie asks him.
“Yep, that’s the one,” he replies.
“I’m right here, by the way.”
“Yeah, but this is nothing to do with you,” Jamie says.
“You’re talking about me…”
“There you are!” Nick comes sprinting into the changing rooms. “Could one of you maybe turn on your fucking phone once in a while?”
“We were at a meeting – why? What’s happened?” Ian asks, worried.
“And what are you doing here?” I ask him, tired of always seeing him around places where he shouldn’t be.
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you both for an hour.”
“We were at the team meeting,” Jamie nudges himself into the conversation.
“Has something happened at home?”
Nick shakes his head. “Everything’s fine at home.”
“So what is it, then?” Ian says, raising his voice. “Tell us, for fuck’s sake!”
Then, Nick turns to me and looks me right in the eyes – from the pain and seriousness in his gaze, I realise that this is about me. About someone I love.
“What…?” I ask, already feeling my throat close over.
“You have to come with me, right now.”
“Where the fuck are we going?”
