Sidelines, page 25
‘That’s enough!’ Ben shouts, striding onto the field.
The two boys don’t hear him. They grab each other’s jerseys and ram each other’s chests with the flats of their hands. Kids run towards them. The ref shrills his whistle but no one takes any notice. Parents on the sideline shout and holler.
Braedon raises a fist at Viktor and swings. Viktor hits back, the sound of fists smacking skin.
Ben rushes towards them, but Cody gets there first and grabs Viktor by the throat.
‘Don’t you dare touch my son,’ bellows Santos, close behind.
The two men face off like wild boars.
‘Stop!’ Ben yells.
Cody punches Santos, and Santos strikes back, face contorted. Players crowd around, hands in the air, screaming at them to stop.
Cody swings again, and there’s a dull thud like an axe chopping wet wood.
Someone goes down. Among the mass of kids and adults, Ben can’t see who it is. ‘Audrey!’ he yells. Frantic, he shoves his way through.
Parents shriek. Kids scream.
Now he can see through the crazy tangle of bodies. And there, crumpled on the ground: a crown of curls, two long skinny legs.
Heat floods him and his knees go weak. He presses a hand to his chest. It’s not Audrey. But, oh God, poor Griffin!
The boy is unconscious, face so white the freckles stand out on his cheeks. Ben wishes he knew what to do, but he’s out of his depth, useless. ‘Where are the first aiders?’ he yells, scanning the shocked faces around him. ‘Can anyone help?’
‘I can,’ says Jonica calmly. ‘I’m qualified.’ She moves forward and kneels beside Griffin, her face sharp with focus as she assesses him.
Ben takes it all in as she places a hand on Griffin’s forehead then carefully checks his pulse, measured and calm. How did he not know his wife could do this?
‘Is he okay?’ Lang rasps beside her, urgency in his bunched shoulders.
‘I don’t know. His face looks wrong and he’s out to it. We’d better call an ambulance.’
‘I’m onto it,’ someone says.
Red-faced and hard-jawed, Lang whirls around and charges at Cody, tackles him to the ground, cinching his meaty hands around his neck.
‘Stop, stop! You’re killing him,’ Luka shouts.
Ilya grabs one of Lang’s arms to pull him away, but Lang is strong and Ilya needs assistance. Ben grasps Lang’s other arm to help haul him off. It’s thick and lumpy, like a tree trunk.
Cody leaps up and lurches towards Lang. But Ben steps between them and holds up his hands. He can smell the rank stench of the man’s sweat, hear his own ragged breathing. ‘Stop right there,’ he commands with more authority than he feels. ‘That’s enough.’
‘Keep that fucker away from me!’ Cody hisses, fists curled, eyes fixed on Lang.
‘Back off right now,’ Ben says. ‘That was assault.’
‘What about them?’ Cody slavers, jabbing a finger at Santos and Lang.
‘There are plenty of witnesses who saw you throw that first punch.’
‘You’re talking bullshit,’ Cody sneers. ‘You got a lawyer?’
‘I am a lawyer. Now step aside while we call the police.’ Ben pulls his phone from his pocket, hands shaking.
Cody spits on the ground. ‘I’m not waiting for that. C’mon Brae. We’re out of here.’ He fires a belligerent stare at everyone and gives them all the finger, then marches off across the field. Good bloody riddance, Ben thinks. But the metallic taste of fear floods his mouth. What about Griffin?
All toughness seems to have drained out of Lang’s body. He sags to the ground beside his son.
Jonica’s voice is clear in the stillness. ‘I think he’ll be okay, Lang. His breathing’s regular, even if it doesn’t sound very good.’ Her down jacket dangles on the grass, and there’s a small frown on her forehead as she pats Lang’s arm gently.
Ben scans the crowd for the twins. Alex is with Tommy, arm looped around his shoulders. Ilya and Carmen are wrapped around Katerina. Darren’s with Claire. But where’s Audrey?
At last, he sees her, all on her own, hands clutched together, face haggard.
He waves her over and she runs to him and burrows under his wing, leans against him, cheeks wet with tears, slight body trembling. He folds his arms around her and holds her tight. Presses his lips to her warm head. The smell of her shampoo.
‘What’s going to happen to Griffin?’ she asks.
‘He’ll be fine,’ he says, without any real sense of confidence. ‘The ambulance will be here soon.’
Her face looks so peeled back. Utterly raw. And so does Alex’s. It’s frightening for them. Ben feels sick with fear too. He wishes he could turn back the clock and prevent this whole thing from happening.
‘Can we do anything?’ Santos asks Jonica. ‘Roll him over or something?’
‘No,’ she says, still on her knees on the ground. ‘We can’t move him in case it’s spinal. But we need to keep him warm. Anyone got a blanket?’
Someone fetches a blanket and she lays it over Griffin so delicately she might be covering a butterfly. Audrey sobs. Griffin groans and shifts a little. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?
At last, the sound of a siren in the distance. The ambulance appears, lights flashing, slowing to turn into the car park. Someone opens the gate and waves the ambulance through.
In the middle of the field, the referee’s coordinator raises an arm and beckons to the ambulance. Where the hell was he before, when he was needed?
As the ambulance bobs across the field, players and parents on other pitches stop to watch. Ben can’t believe it when a bloke starts videoing on his phone. What’s wrong with people? They wouldn’t be doing that if it was their kid who was hurt.
The ref’s coordinator hurries towards them in his fluoro-orange vest, yelling at everyone to stand clear. The ambulance pulls up. Ben smells exhaust, an oil leak maybe.
Two people in dark blue uniforms leap out: a tanned middle-aged man with square shoulders and a reassuring air of authority, and a woman—the driver—who looks far too young to be a paramedic.
Lugging boxes of gear, they move straight to Griffin who is lying very still under the blanket. Jonica shuffles aside and leaves it to the professionals. They work over Griffin quickly, taking his pulse, checking his eyes and mouth, listening to his chest with a stethoscope, taking his blood pressure, moving his limbs carefully.
As they place a supportive collar around his neck, he shifts slightly and moans.
The male paramedic murmurs soothingly to him, then looks up. ‘What went on here?’ he asks, sternly. ‘Looks like we’re dealing with a severely fractured jaw and a serious head injury, not your usual football injury.’
Ben glances at Santos and the other parents, their restless feet and downcast eyes. No one is going to speak. It will have to be him. The truth is best. ‘Things got out of hand,’ he says. ‘There was a brawl.’
A guarded look passes between the paramedics. They’re no fools. They already know. Ben sees the incredulity in their eyes, and his mouth goes dry—it must take a lot to shock an ambo.
‘You’re the father?’ the male ambo asks Lang. ‘Do you want to come with us to Westmead or drive your car and meet him in Emergency?’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Lang says.
‘Can someone tell me about the patient before we arrived?’ the female paramedic asks. ‘Did he lose consciousness? And, if so, for how long?’
‘I can help.’ Jonica raises a hand. ‘I’m a first aider. And yes, he did lose consciousness for a couple of minutes.’
Ben hears the quiver in her voice and recognises, for the first time, just how much pressure she’s been under. He realises he’s proud of her. He could never do what she’s just done—holding it together and reassuring a stressed and anxious parent like Lang. He also realises how lucky he’s been. Alex was safe on the bench, but it could have been Audrey. It could be his child being lifted onto the stretcher and transferred into the ambulance. It could be him, full of dread, wondering if his kid will be okay.
Instead, he’s struck by a guilty feeling of good fortune for somehow having escaped. A sense of gratitude and bone-melting relief.
By the time the paramedics slide Griffin into the back of the ambulance, he’s regained consciousness but still looks blurry and bewildered. Ben feels bewildered too. He can’t comprehend what’s happened. He’s heard about brawls at football games, seen stories on the news, but never witnessed such a thing. He would never have imagined it could happen at a kids’ game, especially not in the twins’ own team at their own home grounds.
He holds Audrey close and watches the ambulance drive away. She leans into his shoulder and cries. What now, he wonders? Where do they go from here?
For a moment, it seems Luka might insist on the game continuing. But Matteo, the club president, overrules him, and announces that it’s over and everyone should go home. He looks worried, and so he ought; the club will be in serious trouble over this.
The twins gather their things and head across the grounds with Jonica. Ben watches them go, Jonica with an arm around Audrey’s waist and a hand on Alex’s shoulder. She’s a tiny rock, the glue that holds them together. He feels left out, separate. He wishes he could leave with them too, but he has to stay and talk to the police when they arrive. Later, he’ll get a lift home with someone else, or take an Uber.
Ben makes himself a double shot espresso and sits at the kitchen bench. He can’t stop thinking about the whole bloody mess this morning. Images keep flashing through his mind: Cody and Santos fighting; Griffin slumped on the ground in a heap; his pale misshapen face; Jonica quietly taking control; the alarm and distress in Audrey’s eyes. Lang looking shrivelled and small.
He wonders what he could have done to avert the situation. He couldn’t have known how things would spiral, but he’d sensed the tension before the game, slowly simmering. Should he have said something? Warned the ref? Talked to Matteo?
He rinses his mug and pops it in the dishwasher just as Jonica walks in with a basket of dry washing. ‘Can you make one for me?’ she asks.
‘I was just about to clean up, but yes, I can make you one.’
Ever since he got home, she’s been stomping around the house as if to let her feet do the talking. He wishes she would just come out with it.
She dumps the washing on the couch in the lounge room while he goes through the ritual of making the coffee.
She slides onto a bench stool and he places a mug in front of her. ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘What a day!’
Understatement of the century. ‘You were amazing with Griffin,’ he says. ‘I didn’t know you were qualified in first aid.’
She gives him a withering look. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’
What’s she on about? He knows her pretty well after fifteen years. ‘I’m grateful it wasn’t one of the twins,’ he says.
‘Me too. But poor Griffin and poor Lang. I really feel for them.’
‘I didn’t see it coming,’ he says. ‘Otherwise, I would have stopped it.’
She regards him for a long moment, something brewing in her eyes. ‘You played your role,’ she says eventually.
‘What the hell do you mean? It was all Cody and Santos.’
‘For God’s sake, Ben!’ she says. ‘Take a look at yourself. You and Darren weren’t much better than those two idiots. I saw the way you were carrying on with each other. Swishing that bloody flag at him. All the petty arguing. The two of you probably fed the whole thing. Claire thinks so too.’
Ben stares at her. ‘Hang on a minute,’ he says, with an incredulous snort. ‘That’s a big accusation. What happened out there today had nothing to do with Darren and me. Yes, we had a bit of beef with each other, but that’s normal.’
‘Well, maybe it isn’t normal. Maybe you need to have a think about it and have a look at yourself. I certainly don’t want to see any more of it. And neither do the kids. It was embarrassing.’
Ben can’t believe she’s turning this onto him. ‘I’m not going to talk about this now,’ he says, trying to remain civil.
‘Why not? You always say there’s no time like the present.’
Sparks ignite inside him, but he holds tight and goes outside. Crosses the yard to the back fence. Opens the creaky Colorbond gate. Peers down into the bush reserve. Stands there, taking deep breaths, proud of himself for walking away, for not engaging in an argument. It took strength, but he was able to do it.
On a whim, he descends the concrete steps into the gully where it’s fragrant with moist soil and eucalyptus. He stops, looks around. He hasn’t been down here in years. Hasn’t had time.
It’s surprisingly calm. The sound of water trickling among rocks. The sigh of wind in the leaves. The sense of the bush waiting, patiently, for time to pass.
He leans against the trunk of a tall gum tree and peers into the canopy. Up high, beyond the tree crowns, there are patches of blue sky, this morning’s clouds slowly dissolving.
When he re-enters the house, Jonica is nowhere to be seen. She’s probably gone for a run at the oval, which is a good thing—she’s always easier to deal with when she’s been out on her own.
Alex is in the kitchen devouring a banana.
‘What’s Audrey up to?’ Ben asks.
‘Nothing much. She’s in her room with Honey.’
‘Doing what?’
‘I don’t know. Texting friends and watching princess movies.’
‘Princess movies?’ Ben can’t conceal his surprise. ‘Hasn’t she outgrown them?’
‘It’s like me watching Fast & Furious, Dad. Takes your mind off things.’
Ben is astounded by his son’s insight. ‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Are you all right after this morning?’
Alex shrugs and looks away. ‘I saw Griffin cop that punch. His head flicked right back. I hope he’s okay.’
‘It was bad, wasn’t it?’ Ben says.
‘Audrey’s pretty devastated,’ Alex says.
‘Yes. We’re all upset.’ Ben pats Alex’s shoulder, trying to be reassuring.
‘It’s worse for her, though, being his girlfriend and all.’
‘Girlfriend?’ Ben is floored. ‘When did that happen?’
‘At the tournament. She told me afterwards.’
‘Does your mother know?’
Alex shrugs. ‘Probably. Audrey might have told her. But she knows pretty much everything anyway, doesn’t she?’ He tosses his banana skin in the bin. ‘Chat later, Dad. I have to do some homework.’
Ben can’t stop thinking about Audrey and Griffin. He had no idea. Did he miss something? Clearly the signs were all there to be read. Audrey starry-eyed when Griffin joined the team; Griffin always passing her the ball, encouraging her, helping her up after falls. It would all be pretty innocent at their age, wouldn’t it? Holding hands?
‘Do you think they’ve kissed?’ he asks Jonica when she comes in, shiny-faced after her run.
‘Probably,’ she says, raising her eyebrows at him. ‘They did spend a lot of time together down at the tournament.’
‘What about sex?’ he asks, appalled. ‘Have you talked to her about contraception?’
She gives him a cynical smile. ‘Have you?’
‘She’s too young for all that.’
‘How old were you when you lost your virginity?’
‘Older than fourteen.’ He can’t believe Jonica is being so breezy about this. Isn’t she bothered by it?
‘I don’t think they’ve had sex,’ she says. ‘When I talked to her about contraception she nearly died of embarrassment.’
Ben’s relieved but there’s an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Maybe his little girl isn’t so little anymore.
Monday at work, Ben is flat out trying to complete preparations for a rape case defence scheduled for court next week. He knows Jonica hates him taking these cases, but this one was a challenge and he couldn’t pass up a good fight.
‘Why do you have to do it?’ she’d asked the other day. ‘I’m trying to teach the kids about consent and respect for women, while you’re clearing guilty men of rape charges.’
‘You don’t know if he’s guilty,’ he’d reminded her. ‘And, anyway, it’s the nature of the game. Part of being a barrister.’
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ she snapped. ‘Let someone else do it. And it’s not a game, Ben. These are women’s ruined lives we’re talking about here. They don’t press charges lightly. That’s what all the evidence says.’
He presses a hand to his forehead, trying to decide what angle to take. It’s complicated, as these things always are. And it doesn’t help that he hasn’t been sleeping well. He can’t stop thinking about the sound of Cody’s punch connecting with Griffin’s head; the dull thud of fist on skin. Last night, he was jangly and hyper-alert for hours. He must have slept, though, because he dreamed of a vast flat beach, raked by wild waves, the sand dotted with limp, dead earthworms.
That’s how he feels now—as dead as those worms. He can’t keep his brain moving so it’s a welcome distraction when Jonica calls. He can hear wind crackling across the mouthpiece, the sound of shouting in the background. ‘What’s up?’ he asks.
‘I’m at training with Alex. I wanted to let you know that Audrey didn’t come. She’s got a headache, so I let her stay home.’
He feels a twinge of irritation. Alex has an excuse with his knee, but he still managed to go when all he can do is stand and watch. So surely Audrey could have gone; it might have helped get her mind off things. ‘You should have given her some Panadol and made her go,’ he says.
‘Look, Ben. Everyone’s completely unmotivated, so she’s not missing anything anyway. And it doesn’t hurt to have a night off every now and then—a few others are away too.’
‘So why did you call when you knew it would annoy me?’
‘To ask you not to go off at her when you get home.’
‘All right,’ he says, grudgingly.
‘Thank you.’
That night, Audrey makes a remarkable recovery and joins the family at the dinner table. Part way through the meal, her phone buzzes. Ben frowns when she checks it. She’s not supposed to have her phone at the table, but Jonica’s indulging her in case a message comes through from Griffin.
