by Sean Kennedy
Dec immediately turned to me. “Fuck, Simon, are you okay?”
I waved him off. “I’m fine, you idiot.”
“Wait, what? I’m the idiot? Abe was the one who decked you!”
“Yeah, but he was trying to deck you. And you were goading him.”
“Because I’m fucking sick of him, that’s why.” Stony-faced, he ripped more toilet paper off the roll and swapped it with the bloody mess I was holding.
“Only at the minute. He’s your best friend. Jesus, Dec, how many times have you had to tell Roger and I not to give up on each other?” I sat back on the couch and watched him dispose of the used tissue. “That sounded so gay. And I mean in the gay way, not the stupid insult way.”
Dec sat beside me, and, although my face still felt somewhat numb, I could feel him exploring my nose tenderly with his fingers.
“Well, Doctor Tyler?” I hoped his prognosis didn’t indicate a trip to the hospital. It would still be packed with all the Friday night drunks.
“It’s not broken.”
“I trust your years of medical training. Two Panadol, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Believe me. I’ve seen enough broken noses to differentiate between a broken one and a swollen one.”
I kicked off my shoes and lay back on the couch. “Your words sound really big and impressive to me at the moment, so I’m going to believe you.”
It got the first laugh out of him that I’d heard that day.
“Dec—”
“Don’t,” he said.
“Seriously—”
“Simon—”
“Come on, you tell me all the time when I do the wrong thing. So let me have this moment.”
“I haven’t done the—”
“Just find him. You know he’s not in a good place. And he’s probably feeling a million times worse now. Don’t let him go off like that.”
Dec sighed and crouched beside my prone body. He took my free hand and rested his forehead against my cheek. It hurt like hell, but I wasn’t going to complain. He needed that moment, so I could deal with the pain. “I just don’t want to leave you right now.”
“It’s a bloody nose, not a chainsaw accident.”
“You’re impervious to pain. You should have been a footy player,” he teased.
“Or a spy.”
“You couldn’t keep a secret long enough.”
“We both know that isn’t true.”
He gave me a long, serious look. “I know. You’re too good.” His wry smile reappeared on the last sentence.
“Oh, don’t you know it. Maybe later I’ll let you know how good.”
His grip tightened on my hand. “You know, you do look a bit sexier roughed up.”
An awkward pause.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s a good moment to go,” I said, trying not to smile.
“See you later, tough guy.” He kissed me and made a face. “Yuck, coppery and bloody.”
“If you were a vampire, you’d find me ravishing.”
“Lucky for both of us, then.” As he grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys I went to the freezer to get some ice. Declan yelled a good-bye and disappeared out the door.
I made my way back to the couch and lay down until I decided I didn’t want to drown in my own blood. I sat up again, balancing the ice and tissue on my nose, and was thinking a beer would help dull the pain when the intercom sounded.
Dec again. What had he forgotten?
The distance from the fridge to the intercom seemed far too long. “Did you forget your keys again, arsewipe?” I asked after pressing the button.
But it was Fran’s voice that was on the other end of the line. “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”
“Oh, hey. Aren’t you guys meant to be in Sorrento?”
“Doofus here booked the wrong date, so we came back home.”
That sounded like Roger. “Didn’t you see Dec on the way?”
“Nope. Why, have you guys had a fight?”
“Must you always jump to that conclusion?”
“Just let us up!” I heard Roger moan. “It’s hot out here!”
I pressed the buzzer, and as I waited it hit me: the combination of Fran’s incorrect suspicion and my current appearance. “Oh, crap.”
It was, of course, the first thing they noticed as soon as they walked in the door.
“Okay, is this irony, or Alanis Morissette-irony?” Fran asked as she stared at my face.
“I don’t know. Irony is my stumbling block.”
“Now is that irony, or Alanis Morissette-irony?”
“Shut up!”
“I’m just saying, there are two Bachelor of Arts degrees standing in this room, and irony is still lost on us.”
She was in too good a mood, even if Roger had stuffed up their weekend away.
Roger stared at me dolefully. “How did it happen?”
“Well,” I said. “Dec and I were hanging by the river, and these three guys started picking on him. What could I do but defend my man?”
Roger and Fran burst out laughing.
“Yeah, good one,” Roger said.
Fran wiped tears from her eyes. “My stomach hurts. I think I strained a muscle.”
“Oh, fine.” I stomped over to the fridge and grabbed us all a beer. “I’m just glad you didn’t think I was a victim of domestic violence.”
“Declan? Pfft!”
“Oh, right, I forgot you guys all think he’s a saint. What do you think happened, then?”
Roger took a beer from my hand and popped it open with relish. “He probably took you to the gym, and you tried to act all butch and knocked yourself out with a….” He fumbled for the relevant word. “Weight thingy.”
“Don’t get all butch on me, Rog,” I said, while Fran rolled her eyes and declined a beer for a Coke instead.
She threw herself onto the couch with a heavy sigh and propped her feet up on the coffee table. “So what happened?”
“Abe punched me.”
Two faces stared at me in shock. Huh, so this wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility for them.
“He was trying to punch Dec.”
Two jaws dropped simultaneously and hit the floor.
Fucking friends. They could imagine Abe hitting me, but not him hitting Dec? Abe and I had never even had an argument between us… not since the ambush in the toilets at the Brownlows. Sure, there had been a little tension between us over the whole Lisa thing, but never bad enough to think that violence of any sort could occur.
“He tried to hit Dec?” Fran asked.
“Do I need to remind you I’m the one sitting here with the bloodied nose?”
“And the black eye,” Roger pointed out.
“What?” I leapt to my feet and ran to the bedroom. Maggie was spooked by my sudden appearance and dived under the bed. Looking into the mirror, I saw Roger was right. My left eye was puffy, and the blood pooling beneath the skin was turning it an ugly purple. “Fuck!”
“I didn’t know you were so vain,” Roger said from over my shoulder. He handed me my beer, and I pressed it against my eye.
“We have to go to my parents’ tonight! You can imagine what they’ll think!”
“They’re not going to think Declan did it either. Just tell them the gym story.”
“The gym story that made both of you laugh?”
“Your parents don’t know you as well as we do.”
“I’m bored in here!” Fran yelled from the lounge.
“Coming, honey,” Roger cooed back. I had to stifle my laugh. We both knew not to test her patience at the moment.
She was flicking through the channels when we walked back in. She winced at my face again. “You better get a steak for that. I don’t think the beer’s going to cut it.”
“I don’t think we have steak in the house. Would a tin of Whiskas do?”
Fran gave me her patented you’re the stupidest perso
n alive look. She was going to be a great mother. She’d had years of experience with Roger. And, er, me. “So where is Declan, anyway?”
“Probably trying to stop Abe from throwing himself off the Webb Bridge.”
“Not enough height,” Fran said dismissively. “He’d be better off trying the Bolte.”
“Hopefully he’s not trying either.” Roger was the voice of reason.
“He’s having a tough time,” I said. I did feel sorry for him, in spite of everything.
“It’s probably going to be worse once Dec’s paid out on him for punching you.” Fran downed the rest of her drink rather impressively.
“I told him to go easy.”
Fran snorted. “He’s a man. Whose partner got punched. He’s going to be ropeable. Just like Roger would be if someone punched me, right?”
“Um, what?” Roger asked, distracted by the television.
Fran looked at me for support.
“Do you want another Coke?” I asked.
DECLAN still wasn’t home by the time Fran and Roger left, bickering on their way out the door. I curled up on the couch with Maggie and found myself strangely captivated by reruns of Petticoat Junction on TV—at least until I fell asleep.
I was rudely awoken by Dec’s beery breath as he leaned in to kiss me.
“Gross,” I winced. “You smell like a wino.”
“Aww, don’t be that way,” he leered.
“I take it you found Abe?”
But Declan was distracted by my eye, as he poked it with his finger and said, “Ouch,” sounding disconcertingly like ET. It was also echoed by my own “Ouch!” followed by a “Fuck off!”
I knocked his finger away before he did any more damage.
Declan sat back heavily on the floor. “I found him. And convinced him to go for a beer.”
“Or eight, by the smell of it.”
“I lost count. He’s really sorry he hit you.”
“I wasn’t too thrilled about it either.”
“He said to say sorry.” Dec leaned back in and kissed me hungrily.
I pushed him back. “Hopefully not like that.”
Declan laughed, heartily amused by my japes. “He also said he’d make it up to you.”
“By returning you home drunk?”
Dec rubbed his stomach and looked as if he was struggling trying to come up with a thought. “I think I’m hungry. I need something to soak this up. Do you want pizza?”
“Beer, and now pizza. If you manage to coerce me into sex later, you’ll probably think it’s your best day ever.”
Dec moaned and rolled onto his stomach. “The room’s spinning.”
It was too inviting, seeing him in such a state. I slid off the couch and sprawled over him. He grunted at my weight but didn’t offer any resistance. With my nose buried into the warmth of his neck, I avoided the stench of stale hops. “I like it when you’re the bad boy.”
“Really? Then I should have stood up for my man and punched Abe out.”
I laughed and slid a hand under his T-shirt, stroking the warm skin of his side. “Not that bad.”
“Just bad enough?”
“Yep.”
He burped loudly, and I whacked him over the head.
“Please take pity on me and order pizza.”
“Nope. I’m gonna lie here all night, all over you.”
“That will make going to the loo difficult. But okay.”
And without warning I found myself on my back, and Dec sprawled all over me.
“That’s better.” He grinned.
“I hate it when you do that.”
I actually didn’t.
“No you don’t.” He was a mind reader.
So I kissed him again. Even though his breath stank.
He traced the bruise on my cheek, more carefully than he had before. “Is it bad that I find you even sexier at the minute?”
“So you implied earlier, you freak. Now let me up. We have to get ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“My parents, remember? We’re having dinner there tonight.”
Dec slapped himself across the cheek. “Fuck, I really have to sober up.”
“Yeah, you do. I don’t think it’ll look that great if you turn up drunk, and I have a black eye.”
“No,” Dec whispered, reaching towards it. “Oh, your beautiful, beautiful eye.”
“It’s puffy and raw. How is that beautiful?”
“Come on. Didn’t you find it a little bit hot when I used to be bloodied up on the field?”
Well, maybe a little bit hot, but it was also mixed up with a hell of a lot more concern. “And not be able to look at your sky blue eyes? No. Now get off me.”
Declan rolled off me, grumbling to himself. I slapped him on the arse and quickly got to my feet, running off before he could grab me again.
Chapter 2
“HONEY, what happened?” my mother asked immediately, after opening the door.
“I was mugged!” I said, before Declan could jump in. He dug me in the ribs, but I ignored him.
My mother grabbed me into a suffocating embrace. “Oh, no! Was it a hate crime?”
I snorted, which she seemed to take as a stifled sob.
“He whacked himself with the bar when doing lat pull downs at the gym,” Declan said, a weary tone to his voice. He knew I loved to torment my family at times, and he got bored of it easily.
“Gym?” My mother pulled away to look me in the eye. “You were at the gym?”
“I do go occasionally,” I grumbled.
“You do?”
“When I force him,” Declan said. “But it’s rare. He likes to fight me on it.”
“I bet,” my mother said, ushering us inside. “Honestly, Simon, why do you always make up stories? A gay bashing! You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Don’t worry, Barb,” Declan said, “I’ll punish him.”
“Ugh, please don’t talk about your sex life.” My brother had just walked out from the lounge to join us in the hallway.
“You’re the one forcing evidence of your sex life upon us, what with your demonic spawn,” I shot back, instantly reverting to a twelve-year-old in the presence of my younger sibling. It was an old fight which never struck a blow, because we all knew how much I loved my niece and nephew.
“Don’t start already,” my mother warned us.
I punched Tim on the shoulder as I passed him, but stupidly left myself open to an attack from behind as he kicked the back of my knee. I stumbled against Dec’s back and steadied myself.
“Dickhead.”
“Shut up, or else I’ll do your other eye. How did that happen, anyway?”
“The gym.”
Tim burst out laughing. “No, really.”
“Shut up, Tim.”
Gabby and Dad were in the kitchen. Gabby rushed to hug and kiss us. Declan accepted it easily; I did it a little more stiffly. I wasn’t used to this newfound overt affection between my family members. We had always been a bit standoffish, but when Tim started going with Gabby, she let us know in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t playing that game. She was a hugger. She was a kisser. She was an arm toucher in casual conversation. Personal boundaries were something she either disregarded or didn’t even know existed. Dad and Declan were shaking hands while Gabby squeezed me against her ample chest.
“Your eye!” she exclaimed.
“He did it at the gym,” Tim mocked me.
Gabby looked puzzled. “You go to the gym?”
“Okay, everybody, I think we’ve established that I don’t go to the gym that often. Can we eat now?” I threw myself down at the table.
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t go to the gym,” Tim said, sitting opposite me. I chucked a fork at him, and it went wide. “If you went to the gym, your aim would be better.”
“He does just fine,” Dec said, passing behind me to get to his chair. He bent down and gave me a peck against the cheek.
Yes, i
t had gotten to this point. Dec was more affectionate before my family than I was, but after we had broken through that wall and the house hadn’t collapsed in upon us, I started returning it. Now it didn’t seem that strange, even though Tim liked to harass us every now and again. But that was Tim’s way, and I didn’t rise to the bait as often as I used to.
Dinner at the Murray household was its usual boisterous affair, especially once the baby woke up for a feed and in doing so roused her older brother as well. While Gabby and Tim dealt with him, I sat with Nikki on my lap. For some reason the kid liked me, even though she constantly reached out for Declan, who was too busy making gooey-eyes at me for being paternal. He was only used to me being like that with Maggie—Nikki had far less hair and only two legs, but she was cute in her own way.
At some point I slipped away and used the loo. On my way back, I stepped into my old room, which Mum had turned into a shrine for the Essendon football club.
The sight of the red and black paraphernalia instantly brought out a natural revulsion to me, borne since childhood. Growing up in a house where both your parents support one team, bordering on religious mania, makes you either succumb or rebel. And both Tim and I rebelled.
But more recent events had dampened that revulsion, because there was one person on that shrine very dear to me. The same person who was in other picture frames around the house, in the form of my partner. In this room, however, he was football god, ex-Devils player come Essendon star—Declan Tyler.
He was grinning self-consciously in his official team photo, the red and black guernsey stretched across his chest.
“Should have been Richmond,” I muttered.
“Get over it,” said that way-too-familiar voice behind me. “They couldn’t afford me.”
“You could have done it for a reduced fee.”
Dec hugged me from behind. “Not even for you.”
“I think, deep down, you did it just to win over my parents.”
“They loved me even before I played for Essendon.”
That was true. Their love just went stratospheric when he became both their team’s captain and their “son-in-law.”