A Whole New Ball Game

by Lauren K. McKellar

  Sawyer: I know things are weird right now, but I need to see you, and before training. Are you free tonight?

  ‘Who are you messaging?’ Kristy raised her chin to try see the phone screen.

  ‘Zoe.’

  ‘Sawyer …’ She sighed, biting down on her lip.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I—’

  The elevator doors opened, cutting her off. A wall of sound crashed into me. My head pounded harder. At the front of the room, near the glass doors, the flashes of cameras reached me, our bus in the background behind them.

  ‘There’s Sawyer Benson!’ one woman screamed.

  ‘Bennie!’

  ‘Sawyer, will you sign an autograph?’

  ‘Just one selfie.’

  ‘Great game, Bennie!’

  ‘Did you spew in a pot plant?’

  Kristy went straight into business mode. She pulled my sunglasses from my shirt pocket and placed them over my eyes. ‘Keep it together.’

  ‘I got this.’ I rolled my shoulders back and fixed my gaze on the back of my sister’s head. This might have been a bigger media frenzy than I was used to, but I’d done enough press to know that when my sister said ‘jump’, the only appropriate response was ‘how high’.

  She cleared a path through the people and shepherded me onto the bus where the rest of the boys waited in various states of hungover. ‘Room key?’

  I handed it to her without question.

  ‘I’ll be back. Do not make eye contact with the reporters. Remember, this is Sydney— the hometown of the team who just lost. Their questions will be less about the game, more about your drunken antics last night.’ She turned on her heel and clopped out of the bus, headed back to reception to hand in our keys.

  This was gonna be a long trip home.

  ***

  ‘Cabin crew, prepare for landing.’ The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom.

  ‘You wanna hash brown?’ Braden held out a limp-looking piece of fried potato to me, and I shook my head. I didn’t know if I could stomach food—not yet, anyway. Maybe I should have vomited in that pot plant.

  ‘We’ll grab some burgers later today anyway,’ Braden said. ‘I’m gonna eat my body weight in fries.’

  ‘Well, that won’t be much,’ Leigh teased from the other side of my mate, and Braden groaned.

  ‘Sorry, lads. I can’t get burgers.’ I had a woman to talk to. I needed to sort out what was going on between Zoe and me.

  Lie. I was going to lie.

  When I told her how I felt on the field yesterday, endorphins had raced through my body. I’d felt on top of the world and the words just came falling out, all easy and natural.

  And maybe it was the hangover, or maybe it was the high of winning still lingering in my system, but I loved her. I knew it like I knew we’d won the game last night, like I knew I needed a second shower because Kristy was right, I did stink like too much whiskey.

  But I couldn’t tell her.

  Zoe was leaving, and that wasn’t what she’d signed up for. I didn’t want to make things harder for her than I already had.

  ‘Hot towel?’ The air hostess stood with three rolled-up towels on a silvery platter.

  ‘Thanks.’ I took one, frowning, as Leigh and Braden did the same. I didn’t think they offered that kind of thing on a local flight.

  ‘They’re from the woman over there.’ The hostess pointed to my sister across the aisle, who gave a small wave as the hostess moved on.

  ‘I need you to get your game faces on—you all look like crap.’ Kristy pointed to her iPad screen. ‘We have a full schedule between now and awards night, and I need you three looking at least five times more awake and ideally, ten times less miserable.’

  ‘On it,’ Leigh mumbled like the good boy he was, wiping his face with vigour.

  ‘What do you mean a full schedule?’ I knew we had another booking at Zoe’s care centre this week, and the obligatory welcome home parade, but aside from that, I thought things were pretty clear.

  ‘I’ll send through a revised schedule when we land. You’re grand final winners, and you and Braden are both up for Player of the Year. I have television, print and radio all wanting a piece of you, as well as winner dinners with team sponsors, the mayor, and a football family celebration. Your lives will be on hold in between now and then.’ Zoe paused for breath, then lowered her voice, leaning across the aisle so no one else could hear. ‘I also have had six enquiries for you, Sawyer, and four for Braden regarding sponsorship for next season. This is going to be big. We’re talking six figures per deal here, boys.’

  I sank back into my seat, staring at the blank television screen in front of me. Six-figure sponsorship deals. Wow. That was … wow. ‘Thanks for hooking all that up for us, Kristy,’ I said.

  ‘No worries.’ Her face darkened for a second. ‘I do need to talk to you about Zoe though.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ I held up my hands in defeat. ‘I was going to try see her today, but it sounds like you have us pretty solidly booked.’

  ‘Good.’ Kristy paused, glancing at her iPad again. ‘I’d really like to talk to you before you see her next.’

  ‘Sir, I need you to put that seatbelt on please.’ The air hostess indicated the sash across my lap, and I obeyed.

  Sounded like an even bigger week was ahead, all leading up to the awards night.

  I just needed to figure in time to talk to Zoe in between now and then.

  Surely it couldn’t be that hard.

  Chapter 29

  Zoe

  I sank back into the seat near reception and stared at the text for what had to be the tenth time that morning. Sawyer. What was I going to do about Sawyer?

  ‘Zoe!’

  I turned my head. Emily was being wheeled toward me by her father, a tiny grin on her lips.

  ‘Hey, Emily. How you doing?’ I walked the gap between us, kneeling beside her.

  Pale.

  She was pale.

  Her eyes were half-mast, and dark purple stained her white skin.

  Still, she had a smile for me. This kid …

  ‘Did they give you an early mark?’ I glanced at the clock over the reception desk. She wasn’t due back from the hospital for another few hours.

  ‘Yep. To watch the game again.’ Emily leaned closer, lowering her voice. ‘Daddy said I could, even though I’m not s’posed to watch TV till four o’clock.’

  ‘Wow! You must have been a very brave girl this morning.’ I shot a worried glance up to Nick.

  If Emily looked pale, he looked worse. His skin seemed a pallid grey.

  Oh no. Emily … had something happened?

  Fear gripped my heart in its icy clutches. I tightened my hold on the wheelchair. She’d be okay. She’d come in here and she’d beat this before, and she was going to be okay.

  She has to be okay.

  ‘Why don’t I come in when I finish my shift and watch part of the game with you?’ I tried to inject as much brightness into my tone as I could.

  ‘Yay!’ Emily turned to her father, her expression contrite. ‘I mean, is that okay?’

  ‘Sorry, I should have asked. Would that be okay?’ If Emily was sick, I could only imagine the last thing he’d want would be an intruder in the room.

  ‘Of course. We’d love that.’ Nick nodded. ‘You are welcome any time.’

  ‘Dad …’ Emily placed her hand over her stomach. A look of pain swept across her face like a sandstorm, exposing all the naked horror of the small girl’s pain underneath.

  ‘Are you okay?’ What pain relief could I give?

  Emily blinked back tears and looked up at her dad, who squeezed her shoulder. I didn’t doubt it for a second. If he could take away even an iota of his daughter’s pain, he would.

  ‘Why don’t you go to your room, and I’ll have Lucinda bring in some pain relief?’ I directed them. The night nurse had already started her shift.

  Nick nodded, wooden. ‘Yes. Good, yes.’
/>   He pushed Emily down the hall and I waved them goodbye just as Tahlia returned to her post, a large paper bag in hand.

  ‘Sorry, babe. They were packed, and a simple coffee took longer than I’d thought.’ She slid into her chair, then took a long draw from the cardboard cup. ‘Thanks for covering for me.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Emily and her dad turned the corner at the end of the corridor, headed for her room.

  ‘Tahls, have any patient updates come across for me over the weekend?’ I asked, leaning my weight on the counter.

  ‘Just one. Gimme a sec.’ She clicked on the mouse a few times. A second later, the printer started to whir. ‘Sorry. Emily was scheduled for hospital today, so I didn’t have it ready for you.’

  No.

  I raced to the printer, my heart pounding hard in my chest. No. Emily had to be okay. She had to be okay.

  The paper jerked out of the printer a centimetre at a time. I scanned the words, words I never wanted to read in relation to that little girl. Words like inoperable. Words like no further treatment required. Words like palliative care.

  Emily was dying.

  My knees turned week. I grasped at the computer table, but the floor raced up to meet me before I could gain purchase.

  ‘Zo!’ Tahlia’s voice registered in my brain, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from that piece of paper, that final line of text. Tears blurred my vision. I didn’t want this to happen. Not to the little girl who had completely stolen my heart from the very first day she’d arrived.

  Until then, please make Emily as comfortable as possible.

  Words I never wanted to read in relation to the little girl who’d done so much.

  ***

  Later, I knocked softly on the door to Emily’s room. Tahlia had powdered a fresh coat of make-up under my eyes, her hands gentle as she whispered soothing words about the circle of life and not being able to change fate.

  She meant well, but it didn’t help.

  Emily was dying.

  ‘It says here it’ll be a while.’ Tahlia had pointed to a line on the report. ‘Two months. Maybe more.’

  Eight weeks wasn’t a while.

  Eight weeks wasn’t nearly enough.

  ‘And Dean’s said she can stay here if they want, rather than moving her across to the hospital. That’s good,’ she’d continued.

  It was. We both knew the palliative care unit, while well-tended, was a waiting room to die, usually full of old people and muffled cries.

  That was no place for Emily.

  Not the little girl with so much life.

  ‘Come in,’ Nick called, and I turned the handle, letting myself into the room.

  ‘Where’s your uniform?’ Emily asked, giving me that same smile-not-smile from before.

  ‘I don’t wear it all the time, silly. Not when I’ve finished work.’ I walked over to the bed and sat beside her, pulling a book from my handbag. ‘I brought you a new book to read.’

  ‘Cool! Thank you.’ Her eyes were big as I placed it in her hands, but she just stared at the cover. Did she know what was going on?

  Slowly, she placed the book on the bed beside her. ‘D’you mind if I read it later?’

  ‘Of course not.’ You can read it whenever you want. Just read it. Just stay here, alive, and read it.

  ‘I, uh … I was hoping I could take a few minutes, if that’s not asking too much?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Of course. Please, go.’ I gestured to the door. ‘Take as long as you need. I’m happy to stay all night.’

  ‘Daddy?’ Emily’s face tightened.

  ‘I won’t go that long. Just … just an hour. That okay?’

  Emily nodded, linking her fingers through mine. Her hand was hot, clammy, and something about that, those little fingers clutching mine so tight, touched my heart. ‘Love you, Daddy.’

  ‘Love you too.’ Nick nodded, then left the room. As the door closed, I saw his shoulders begin to shake. Oh, God. How could the world be so cruel?

  ‘Score!’ Emily cried as Leigh dropped the ball and kicked it through the goals, one of the earlier points of the night.

  ‘Good goal, huh?’

  ‘Great.’ She nodded. ‘Is it true they’re coming here again this week?’

  ‘It sure is.’

  ‘Wow.’ She leaned back against the pillows, placing her hands in her lap. ‘Are you still gonna be a football player?’

  ‘I …’ I should tell her. I should tell her yes, one day, but not one day soon.

  But she didn’t have anything but soon.

  How could I talk of a future that she would never see?

  ‘I wanna be like you when I grow up.’ She gave me a lazy smile. Her eyelids flickered, and her mouth opened in a big yawn. ‘I’m tired.’

  Oh, sweet girl. I pulled up the blanket from the bottom of the bed, bringing it to rest over her small body. ‘You have a nap then. Do you hurt? Need any medicine?’

  ‘No. Just … sleep.’ Her eyes flickered once more. ‘Tell me about what it’s like to play.’

  ‘What it’s like …?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She sighed, her eyes completely closed.

  ‘Well, it’s … it’s a strange feeling.’ One I want you to experience. Tears welled in my eyes and I blinked them back. ‘It’s like nothing else matters except the game, and the ball, and your team. You’d do anything to make it work—run as fast as you could, tackle as hard as possible.’ I swallowed. Emily’s breathing began to slow, level out.

  ‘Yeah?’ she muttered.

  ‘Yeah.’ Not this beautiful girl. How could she die? ‘And the feeling you get after is everything, too. It’s this sense of being exhausted in the body, exhausted in the mind, but also … peace. Quiet.’

  ‘Sounds nice,’ Emily whispered. ‘Peace sounds nice.’

  Her breathing steadied into the long sighs of sleep.

  Peace.

  I wanted it for Emily, but selfishly, I wanted her to live. I wanted her to keep fighting this horrible disease that was going to take her too young, too soon, that was going to leave Nick alone in the world.

  A tear slipped from my eye, and I wiped it away before Nick came back.

  He was going through so much.

  Being strong for him and his family was the least I could do.

  Chapter 30

  Sawyer

  I didn’t see Zoe Monday night.

  Dinner with the sponsors ran overtime, and when I texted her to ask if it was too late to drop around, she didn’t reply.

  Sleeping. She must have been sleeping.

  Tuesday night she had her comp, which brought us here—training. Our last session before her trials was important—I couldn’t let her down.

  I jogged on the spot on the side of the field, letting the slow movement warm my cool muscles. My phone buzzed from my pocket, and I ignored it. Probably Kristy. Again.

  Where are you, Zoe?

  It was five past seven. She was always on time. This was so unlike her.

  I took the phone out, clearing the screen from my sister’s missed calls, and dialling Zoe’s number.

  Ringing had never sounded so lonely.

  Just as I was about to hang up, try again, the headlights from her car swung into the parking lot. Thank God. She was here. Everything would be alright.

  ‘Hey.’ She slammed the door shut behind her, jogging to my side. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

  ‘It’s—’ I cupped her chin, holding her face up to the light.

  Zoe.

  Her freckles were more visible than usual. Red marked the corners of her eyes. Had she been crying?

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I …’ She gulped. Pressed her lips together. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

  I grabbed her shoulders, pulled her to my chest. Her shoulders shook, and I stroked her soft hair, rubbed her back. What had happened? Was it us? This disaster we’d somehow found ourselves in? Was it her job application?

  I want it to be her job application.
r />   I shoved the thought aside as soon as it appeared. That wasn’t true. I wanted her to be happy, no matter the cost. No matter how much it stung.

  ‘D’you want to talk about it?’ I pulled back just a fraction, studying her face. Two silvery trails snaked from her eyes down over her cheeks to her red lips.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. Fierce determination swept her features. She stiffened her shoulders, raised her chin. ‘I want to play.’

  ‘Okay.’ I nodded. Whatever she needed to help get this out. ‘Okay.’

  And so we played.

  I ran drills with her up and down the oval, giving it everything I had because I had nothing left to lose. There was no game to be cautious of, no deadline to hold back from—I was giving it my all.

  We sprinted. Tackled. Threw. Kicked.

  It was a thoroughly exhausting hour, and by the end of it, sweat trickled down my back despite the chilly Melbourne weather.

  I stopped at the sidelines, guzzling water from my bottle and ignoring the flash of a camera from the other side of the oval. Let them look. Let them look all they wanted.

  Zoe jogged to my side, her chest heaving up and down with exertion. I tossed her a bottle of water, and she caught it with a clap.

  ‘More,’ she breathed, unscrewing the cap and downing half the thing in a few seconds.

  ‘Sure.’ I leaned down to grab another bottle.

  ‘No.’ She dropped the bottle in my bag. ‘More training. More of this.’

  ‘Zo, you don’t want to push too hard. Not when the trial is this weekend. You could injure yourself, and—’

  ‘Please.’ Her voice cracked.

  Zoe. I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her to my chest but she pushed me back, shaking her head.

  ‘No. Please, just …’ She swallowed again, and her face twisted.

  ‘Okay.’ Slowly, I placed my water bottle down. ‘Okay.’

  I turned and jogged up the oval, my mind racing. What had happened? And how could I make it better?

  I’d ask at reception when I was at her work in the morning. Surely her flatmate would know what was up. Yeah. And I’d call Gail, the women’s team manager, mention that Zoe was going through some personal stuff just in case it affected her performance on the weekend. If it was her overseas job that was the problem, perhaps I could pull some strings. Maybe I could even volunteer for a short stint, although Kristy’d probably have a heart attack. A Third-World country? A hospital in a Third-World country? It’d be good publicity, but I could already see her counting out the negatives on her hand. Malaria, malnutrition, a thousand other viruses that could ruin your career …