Chapter Twenty-Nine

MY GROUP chat with the guys was completely silent that day. Completely.

That was unheard of. We always texted Sunday morning to make sure everyone was coming and decide what food to bring.

It meant they were talking about me in another chat that I wasn’t a part of, which was confirmed by Vinnie’s solo text to me—just me.

Are you coming today? Are you bringing extra guests?

I was emotionally wrung out. When I agreed to go to Melbourne, Tracy had called my mother and told her to come over—quickly—and they put us through a grilling. How long had this been going on, why didn’t we tell them, what plans did we have for the future?

Neither had been upset. On the contrary they’d seemed rather excited. Then Ambrose said something about his grandfather, and it set off a whole new discussion.

Dan and I retired to the backyard for a bit of a breather while Ambrose was still being interrogated on his situation with his father’s family. I loved our mothers and knew I would miss them, but I also knew I would be back once Ambrose retired. I asked Dan’s opinion on how much longer he thought Ambrose had left in him to play top level. Ambrose was twenty-seven, and only a handful of players older than that were still playing.

“Twenty-seven and twenty-eight are the breaking points,” he said with a sigh. “At that age you’re only one bad injury away from retirement. Sure, you have guys like Shaun Burgoyne who are still playing at thirty-five, but he’s in the minority. You’ll also see that he never had a serious injury. Ambrose will come back from this injury, no problem. He’s fit, and he’s never had to go through that pain before. But when it happens again, he’ll know how hard it’s going to be, and it wears on you. Most guys think about their injuries while they’re playing. It means they don’t run as much or tackle as hard, because in the back of their mind, they’re afraid of the injury. Then their game suffers, and before you know it, the coach is talking about retiring you.”

“Do you think Ambrose will be like that?”

Daniel nodded. “For sure. He’ll be weaker and more vulnerable now. He’ll go out on the field, and his opponent will say, ‘Hey, Bro-Jak. How’s the knee?’ It’s just a little subtle reminder of his weakness, and next thing you know, he’ll be getting beaten. Mind games.” He gave me a knowing look. “Ambrose is going to have to work even harder on the mind games, which means he’s going to be needing emotional support he’s never had before. So come to Melbourne, Shane. It could be for only one year. It could be for five. But I doubt it will be any longer than that.”

I took a deep breath. Five years. I could do that.

“Come. I know people in the club. We’ll surround you with support. Those we trust we’ll tell the truth. Find a university course you can start next year. You’ll have fun, and people really won’t look that hard. You’ll be back here before you know it.”

By midday, when I was due at Vinnie and Aaron’s, we were just leaving Tracy’s.

“Where to?” I said as we drove away.

Ambrose groaned. “I’m done for. I need a beer or six.”

Dan chuckled. “I’ve got so much gossip to tell Sean when I get home.”

“What time are you leaving?” I asked.

“The plane leaves at eight tonight.”

My phone beeped again, and Ambrose asked, “Will that be your mum with more questions?”

I hoped not. “No. That will be Vinnie seeing if I’m coming over for our usual Sunday lunch, and if I’m bringing you two. My status in the group has risen sky-high because I know famous footballers. But I’m also expecting a grilling on how come I never told anyone I knew you.”

“And how come you never did?” Ambrose asked.

I hoped I wouldn’t hurt his feelings. “Because you’re just Ambrose to me. You’re not Bro-Jak. I don’t know Bro-Jak. I know Ambrose.”

I caught a look I interpreted as smugness on his face.

“So, are you going?” Ambrose said. “To Vinnie’s?”

“What do you do at Vinnie’s house, anyway?” Dan asked from the back seat.

I grinned. “We watch football on the TV, barbecue the shit out of a whole bunch of meat, pretend to eat salad, and drink lots of beer.”

“Sold.”

I frowned at Dan’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Huh?”

“Take us to Vinnie’s house. It sounds exactly like what we all need—beer, steaks, and footy.”

I hesitated. “They’re going to grill you about everything, you know.”

Ambrose answered. “Shane, we’re used to it. We know how to handle that shit. So take us to Vinnie’s, and we’ll tell them all our good news, ’kay?”

We were going to need supplies, then, so I pulled into the nearest shopping center and drove around until I was at the end closest to the liquor store. While they were buying beer, I nipped into the supermarket and piled up steaks—the good ones. Good news needed to be celebrated.

And I sent Vinnie a text.

We’re all coming. On our way now.

THE USUAL collection of cars cluttered the front of the house. Aaron’s boat was parked off to the side of the driveway. Kee’s ute was parked next to it, and Jamie’s bright-yellow Mini with the sunflower aerial was behind it. Hiram’s SUV was parked on the lawn, as was Ricky’s Falcon. Vinnie’s cousin was obviously eager to meet Bro-Jak again. Only John’s four-wheel drive was missing, but he would still be playing his game at the other team’s oval. He would be sure to turn up later.

I pulled up and parked on the street. I would miss our gatherings when I was in Melbourne, but Ambrose and Daniel had both assured me it wouldn’t be forever. I was sad but knew I wanted to support Ambrose until he reached his retirement. And that meant moving to Melbourne. Dan and I juggled the food and alcohol because Ambrose was still on crutches. I opened the door and strode inside.

“Shane’s here!”

Kee was the first to notice me as usual. I wondered why I wasn’t as invisible to him as I was to others. Jamie happened to be wandering past me and grabbed the steaks.

“Great. Just in time for the all-important cooking. I’ll take these out to Liam.”

We could hear a cheer from a crowd on the TV in the living room as we moved farther into the house and spied Vinnie and Ricky—both football mad—clutching their faces and screaming for the umpire to award a free kick. Dan pushed past me to catch the replay on the screen.

“No way,” he defended the call. “You can’t award a free for that.”

“He didn’t try to dispose of it,” Ricky cried.

“He couldn’t. Look. Booker had his arm, and he couldn’t handpass.”

Soon the three of them were in a heated argument about whether it should’ve been paid or not. I looked around my friends.

Liam and Aaron were overseeing the cooking of the steaks on the barbecue on the back patio. They were chatting as they cooked. I couldn’t see what was in Liam’s hand, but it was sure to be some sort of fancy beer that cost three times what was in Aaron’s hand. Jamie had handed over my steaks and was draped over Liam’s shoulder, resting on him and watching as Liam wielded the tongs on the meat.

Hiram and Tate were chatting as they made something in the kitchen. It was probably something gluten free or vegetarian. Tate looked up and caught my eye, smiling his hello and giving a little wave with a hand that was covered in flour.

Vinnie and Ricky were still arguing with Dan in front of the TV. I couldn’t see which teams were playing, but it didn’t matter. Ricky and Vinnie watched all the games each weekend.

Kee pulled out a chair at the dining table and said to Ambrose, “Here you go.” He positioned another chair so Ambrose could prop his leg up and then took the opposite chair. I grabbed a couple of cans from the bag Dan had promptly abandoned, handed one to Dan—who was arguing the history of the rule that was in discussion—and then took a can to Ambrose. Kee was asking him about the ins and outs of his operation.

I took the remaining cans to the fridge, passing through the kitchen and seeing that Hiram and Tate were making some sort of spring rolls with minced vegetables rolled in pastry.

“Hey, Shane. Just what we need. Someone with clean hands. Would you be able to look in the pantry and see if you can find some corn flour?”

I found the required container and a clean spoon and bowl for Hiram and then wandered out to find my boyfriend.

My boyfriend.

Oh, wow.

I sat down on another chair at the table as those words sunk in—my boyfriend. Ambrose had asked me to move in, and I said yes. That technically made us boyfriends, didn’t it?

I hadn’t had one of them for a while, and I’d definitely never lived with any of them. In fact Ambrose was the only one who I’d ever lived with apart from Tracy and my mother, and even when I had been dating, I never stayed in their company as long as I did with Ambrose.

And I never got tired of Ambrose.

Oh, wow.

With the conversation about Ambrose’s knee exhausted, Kee turned to me and said, “So you know Ambrose because you used to live next door to each other?”

I nodded. “Yes. Ambrose and his mother moved in when I was about seven. Our mothers became best friends. You know—I talk about Tracy all the time.”

Kee obviously listened to me as well as saw me. “Sure. You talk about Tracy. You talk about your mum. You’ve never once mentioned the name Ambrose to me. It’s an uncommon name. I’m sure I would’ve remembered it.”

Yeah. Because I was hiding the biggest secret of my life. The secret wasn’t me being in the closet. The secret was me being in the bedroom… with Ambrose Jakoby, who just happened to be an elite-level athlete with the Australian premier league of AFL football.

“I’m not really one to talk about famous people I know solely for recognition from my friends,” I said apologetically. “Jamie probably wouldn’t have a clue who I was talking about anyway. And Vinnie….”

As though it were prepared, Vinnie immediately made my point by shouting at the TV. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, ump. Of course Gawn is going to be tackling Jake Neade high. You pit someone who’s six foot nine against Neade who’s only five seven, there is no middle ground.”

I didn’t have much of an idea who Gawn or Neade were, let alone their heights. But Vinnie knew all the stats.

“And me?” Kee asked with quiet determination.

I couldn’t lie. “I guess I just didn’t want to tell you guys.”

Kee’s eyes were a dark color, and I remember thinking when I met him that they were one of his best features. Why didn’t I feel attracted to him like I did Ambrose? It would’ve been so much better to fall in love with him than the complicated man beside me.

“So why are you telling us now?” he asked with sudden insight.

I swallowed. I had to start somewhere. I was going to be moving to Melbourne, and my friends needed to know. They deserved to know. When Vinnie told us he and Aaron were an item, he made a big announcement in front of everyone. But that wasn’t me.

Here goes.

“I’m going to be moving to Melbourne with Ambrose. He needs my support, and I think it will be good for me. I’m thinking about applying to university. Maybe an arts degree in literature or something.”