12 Yards Out

by Javi Reddy

  “Besides, these bruin os1 from Melville are kak2. You guys have the best one in your team!”

  Everyone burst out in laughter. Even Zondi.

  “Do you know why Rosebank will win today?” Keith hollered out. “Because we’re finally Rosebank again. Because everyone that’s supposed to be here is now here.”

  Jay nodded to his teammates. He nodded at his best friend. They led out for the second half and Jay gazed at the crowd as they clapped nervously for their boys.

  “Not today, son.”

  The words pierced Jay’s ears. Zondi had his arm on his shoulder and his peak cap in his other hand. Jay strained his eyes to decipher what his coach had just said.

  “I’m bringing on Glen. It was good that you had a run this half, but I need to ease you back into it.”

  “But coach, I’m fine. You know I’m fine! I just need to…”

  “I handle first team football. If you want to join the debating team, go speak to Mrs Fielding. Take a seat and support your team. They’re gonna need it.”

  The second half kicked off and Rosebank looked far hungrier. They were reaching for balls they weren’t even getting close to in the first half and the crowd was slowly getting behind them again. They applauded every time a tackle was made or cheered every time they got close to the opposition’s goal.

  Unfortunately, Melville’s keeper had come out of his shell. He was now commanding the back, punching away all crosses and kicking the ball as far away as possible when Rosebank tried to gain ground. And his saves were something out of a Nike commercial. He sprung across the goal to athletically deny Rosebank when the opportunity arose.

  The crowd had grown frustrated again. There were slight groans when the players could not penetrate the defence, yet again, with just seven minutes remaining. Jay sat on the side, his mind in overdrive.

  With five minutes left, Jay’s replacement, Glen, was fouled on the edge of the area. The striker was nowhere near as mobile as Jay, but he had been brought on to give Rosebank more of an aerial threat. The problem was that he was knocking on balls, but no one from his team was latching onto them. At least, the tall, blond boy was proving to be a handful for the Melville defence with his physical prowess.

  Two defenders had now wrestled him to the ground. The crowd remained silent as Keith and the older Bhengu brother, Caleb, stood over the ball. The Melville wall stood stubbornly in front of them. The challenge would not be beating this wall. The challenge would be to beat the wall and then somehow hope to beat the magnificent keeper behind it. Caleb ran up to take it but jumped over the ball and it was Keith who took the shot. It had plenty of power but was hit too straight. It managed to clip the top of one of the Melville boys’ head. That was enough. The rotten deflection sent the keeper the wrong way and Rosebank were suddenly level.

  It wasn’t pretty, but it was the fortune they needed. Something to break their opposition’s resolve. Melville were dejected and more importantly, they were now there for the taking. As Layla snapped her camera around the ground, she got pictures of people hugging each other, some even kissing. She got shots of fist pumping and screaming to the heavens. Rosebank were going to win. The people believed so.

  Again, they pushed forward, but Melville stood strong. Rosebank kept heaving the ball forward and Melville kept defending it stoutly. It was like a tired game of tennis in the last set, in a tiebreaker no less. Rosebank kept hitting it hard. Melville kept returning with great defiance.

  Ndumiso Bhengu, the younger brother hoisted another ball into the box after a neat little run down the right. As always, Melville hoisted it back, but at the expense of a throw in, Keith darted over to take it. Jay was suddenly at his side, on the touchline. “Keith, listen to me. They keep expecting Glen to head the ball on. But he’s just as good at holding it up. When the ball comes to him, get him to fake a header and bring it down with his chest instead. He may not be a great crosser, but the last thing they’ll expect is for him to put something into the box after he’s run the channel. Anything can happen when the ball is put in like that.”

  Keith’s face became ardent. He left Ndumiso to take the throw in and cantered over towards the box. He whispered into Glen’s ear and gave a thumbs up to Ndumiso. The Bhengu brother threw it deep into the box. The Melville defenders leapt to defend it, anticipating a leap from Glen. They were timing their jump to be in sync with his movement, and not the movement of the ball. When he didn’t challenge for the ball in the air, they found themselves jumping too early, and it gave Glen time to cushion it on his chest. Instead of running into the box, he ran down the channel like Jay had instructed and put the ball in.

  It was a poor cross and Jay immediately clenched his feet in agony. But the ball had ricocheted off a defender’s shoulder and was still in mid-air. Everyone in the box saw the ball but did not react as quickly as Keith did. He sprung off the ground and volleyed the ball with absolute precision. He hit it so sweetly, even Layla knew where it was going. The ball caressed the net ever so beautifully and Rosebank erupted. Everyone ran towards Keith and lifted him off the ground and onto their shoulders. Even Warren Harris ran the length of the field and leapt on him.

  Coach Zondi laughed from the side-line. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t even joy. It was just a good old chuckle of pride. As soon as Melville kicked off again, the ref’s whistle sounded, and everyone bolted onto the pitch. Layla tried to get pictures, but even she could not get through the swarm of euphoric bodies. She turned around and noticed that there were only two people in the whole ground, not on the field. Zondi strolled over to Jay, who was actually smiling, taking in the crowd like how they always took him in.

  “That tip may have won us the game.”

  “Nah, Keith made that happen all on his own. He made something out of nothing.”

  “If you say so. But do you know why I benched you for the second half?”

  “Look Coach, I know I’m not fit yet. In fact, if I’m being honest, I think… I know… I took my fitness for granted.”

  “It had nothing to do with that. Even an unfit you, is still pretty damn useful.”

  “So, then?”

  “You were missing your biggest asset today. Your passion.” Zondi put both his hands on Jay’s shoulders this time.

  “You had every right to question this school’s loyalty. But if you came back, you had to come back and want to be here. Otherwise, that wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.”

  Jay pressed his chin against his chest and tried not to look directly at him. “I love this team. Today made me realise that more than ever.”

  “Good, because we love having you here. The real you. The one that bled for the badge. If you make sure that he’s out there for the rest of the season, I’m gonna make sure that this is a Staffords Cup you’ll never forget.”

  They walked away from the crowd, leaving everyone else to take in the celebrations. They had work to do. They had a quarterfinal to prepare for. Against arch-rivals Rose Park.

  2 October 2013. 8:22 PM

  The red light at the top of the booth beamed down on James’ head as he nodded at Layla. No notion seemed truer. Jay Chetty was only Jay Chetty when he was passionate.

  “You should start writing again,” Layla broke the private conversation within his head.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, you haven’t written in a while. And there’s no real formula for getting back on track. You just have to get at it. Write down anything. Everything. Before you know it, the words will start making sense again.”

  “And how’d you know? Writing is quite different from taking pictures, my dear.”

  “And how’d you know?” she snapped back at him.

  “It just is.”

  “Maybe, they’re all the same. Writing, photography, football. You need to keep Jay kicking that ball. Everything will come back in time.”

  “You think we haven’t been trying? You can’t just sit here and tell us what to do. At least, I’m ove
r there, trying to help him. You stay away because you’re too scared to face him for whatever reason. Take the first step!”

  “He doesn’t want to see me. I’m not going to force his hand there.”

  “Are you mad? He misses you so damn much. Sometimes, I think he misses you more than his father. I know that’s a shitty thing to say, but it is what it is.”

  She didn’t finish her drink, placing two one hundred-rand notes on the table to cover the bill. “It’s too much. If I go there, it’ll give Vinny even more of an incentive to pay him a visit. He’ll hurt him more than he already has. Don’t be so selfish. For once in your life, can you manage that?”

  As she left The Parlour, James watched the back of her shoulder blades all the way out the door. Now, they really were a couple.

  2 October 2013. 8:43 PM

  There were no suits on the porch again—an ideal boon for James in his intoxicated state. He barged into the living room, but couldn’t see Jay anywhere. He went to his room and the bed was empty. He moved back down to the dining room and no one was at the table, although it was fully laid. Dinner for one? The blue and white bowl perched on the green placemat was cold. The table had been set a while ago. As James drew closer, his heart began to pound. He noticed a plate on the floor with gravy and red meat splattered out amongst the carpet. His heart almost cannoned through his chest when he came across a trail of blood that had also stained the creamy carpet. Vinny.

  The mere thought of the name made James realise that how petrified he was. Of course, he had come here. If an amateur like James could sneak in, how could he not? James looked around for potential weapons. He would be no match in a fair fight.

  James gripped a wine bottle from the kitchen counter and opened it to take a swig. He soon realised that he was holding his weapon. He finished the rest of the wine, for the only bottle worth smashing was an empty bottle. He tip-toed, following the trail of blood which led to the back door. It was open and swaying gently in the wind. He curled his hands harder around the bottle and made his way out. He could feel his body quaking. Still, no sign of anyone. He heard the door slam behind him and he swung around to a suit who was holding a Beretta at him.

  “So, you’re the fucker who broke Carl’s nose?” He cocked the gun. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where’s the boy?”

  “I’m asking the questions. My gun. My rules.”

  James didn’t know why he did what he did next, but it gave him a fighting chance. He launched the wine bottle towards the suit, and it crashed against his right temple. The suit hit the ground, firing a shot. It hit the wooden arc at the top of the back veranda. James leapt onto him as he knelt on the ground, clutching his head. The suit had anticipated his movement and tilted to the side and elbowed James in the chest. He wrapped his arms around James’ larynx. James wanted to close his eyes, even if it meant thinking of no one, in particular. But there were those that wouldn’t stay away as the darkness drew closer.

  He had already let Layla down today, and he felt mortified about doing the same to Jay. He opened his eyes for them and the alcohol gave him the adrenaline rush that he was looking for. James snatched the fallen Beretta and smashed the butt of the gun into the suit’s ribs. They tussled some more and both went flying through the glass in the middle of the lounge door.

  James hurled the suit against a small side table in the passageway. The suit lay on the ground; shards of glass pierced into his body and tight black boots. James kicked him in the ribs. The man groaned. James went for another kick, but the suit caught his leg this time and wrestled him to the ground. He was on top and pummelled James. James placed his right foot on the suit’s stomach and forced him off. It was his turn to punch, and an utter rage engulfed him. James bludgeoned the suit’s face with his fists. He was going at it, unable to cease the fury.

  He was a few punches away from crossing the line that he claimed he had never gone over, when he caught a glimpse of Jay’s legs sticking out from behind the couch. He dropped the bloodied man to the ground and raced towards the boy. He crouched above Jay, who still had blood trickling down his head. James checked for a pulse. He was still breathing. But for how much longer? James raced to the kitchen to retrieve a cloth and dabbed profusely at the wound at the back of the boy’s head. He gently lifted Jay’s head up, and he calmly opened his eyes like a baby who’d just had the nap of his life. James was going to make this bastard pay, but when he turned around, the suit was gone. Jay was dazed, exactly how James imagined him to be after one of his seizures. For some reason, the boy couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Hey kiddo, you okay? Why so happy?”

  James got his answer when he turned around again and saw what was waiting for them in the doorway.

  Layla smiled back at Jay.

  “I’m tired of hiding from this asshole. Let’s take down Vinny De Silva, once and for all. What d’ya say, boys?”

  * * *

  Bruin o – slang for a coloured person↩

  Kak – shit↩

  Chapter 20

  30 September 2013. 8:22 PM

  The average human being can go 30-40 days without food, as long as they’re properly hydrated. Amritha had been trying to drink whatever she could get a hold of. Every so often, figures draped in dark clothing with hoods hanging over them, would enter the dark hole she laid in. They would leave her whatever Vinny was in the mood to bestow upon her. Sometimes, it was warm water in a brass bowl. If she was spoilt, it would be terribly concentrated juice. On occasions, she was forced to drink whiskey.

  When Vinny left his glass in the room, she would lick the residue left in the glass. Alcohol dehydrated the body, so she merely gargled her parched throat. It had been close to two weeks since she’d eaten something proper. Beside the stomach rumbles, she had become faint and could barely pull herself up to a standing position. She was in a permanent sedation. She thought about Jay less and less as the days went on. The strongest of her hopes hidden within her heart began to vanish with her physical strength. All she could pray for was, after her death, Jay would find some sort of peace, away from Vinny.

  She yearned to dance one last time, before her end and feel the freedom of the rhythm. She could not even do that in her mind anymore, too famished to think. Another hooded fiend entered the room. The figure was much taller than the previous miscreants who had rowdily made their presence felt when they strutted in. The new figure slinked in, surveying the area rather eerily. Amritha tried to sit up to be on her guard, but neither her body nor her mind would let her. She covered her lower area with her hands to save some dignity. The hood held a sports bag right up to her. She pulled her head away. The hood pushed it closer to her.

  “Eat.”

  It was a man’s voice.

  “Eat,” the voice forced itself onto her again. He took hold of her hand. It was not that tight a grip, but in her frail state, she could not do anything to fend him off.

  “No please…” the words futilely left her mouth.

  He took an apple out of the bag and placed it in her hand. She threw it in his face, somehow finding the strength. Who knew what it was drugged with? Some of Vinny’s magical substance from the steel cylinders? She was weak again and fell to the floor, hitting her head. He lifted her off the ground and held her head carefully in his hand. His touch was softer this time. “You must eat. Or we’ll never get out of here.”

  “Who…who are you?” He lifted off the hood.

  2 October 2013. 9:20 PM

  The strangeness of being in a room with three people had hit them all. It felt crowded. Layla and James. Or Jay and James. Never all three. Another silly fantasy leapt into James’ mind. From Layla as his steady girl to them all, being a family. James had to protect his family. They could not stay here at Jay’s place much longer. Who knew how many suits would be coming back after he’d beaten up one of their own? “How you feeling kiddo?” Layla smiled warmly at Jay.

  “I’m okay. Thanks to this mad man ove
r here. You really went ballistic on that guy.”

  James rubbed the cuts on his knuckles. He thought about how the rage had possessed him. A red flame he didn’t know existed until he let loose. James revealed his bruised knuckles to Layla and flipped his eyebrows up and down in delight. Layla made her way over to Jay and sat down next to him.

  “Why don’t you take a shower? And I’ll make us supper.”

  “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe here anymore.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll have to go to my place in Morningside. I was trying to avoid that, but hopefully, Vinny’ll stay away from there for a little longer until we decide what we’re gonna do.”

  “I’m not supposed to leave home. You both know that.” Layla and James fixed him a glare.

  “Look, kid,” James got off the couch, “the rules no longer apply here. If we wanna make things happen, we’re going to have to bend them.”

  He looked at Layla, who nodded at him slowly. They cautiously got into her Toyota, making their way back to Layla’s place.

  In the Morningside apartment, Jay took a shower. James ogled Layla, the unrest between the two of them, still palpable from their last argument.

  “Sooooo, maybe we can open a bottle of wine in the meantime?” James asked her.

  “We can’t get sloshed. We have to be here for him. In the right frame of mind.”

  “Would you like me to stay here, tonight?”

  “It’s up to you. But all you’ll be doing is sleeping on the couch.”

  “I know. I mean I’d rather be here to protect you. I’m pretty useful when I’m pissed off.” He proudly showed off his battle scars once more.

  “I’ll see what’s in the kitchen. We can’t go shopping now, so we’ll have to make do with whatever’s there.”

  “I’ll have you know that I did whip up some chicken a la king for the lad the other day.”

  “Bravo. You fed him properly. Once. You’re ready to own a hamster now.”