Sidelines, page 26
‘Oh my God!’ Audrey says. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘What is it?’ Alex leans forward to look.
‘Katerina’s put up a photo of her and Viktor visiting Griffin in hospital.’
She shows her phone around, and, despite himself, Ben takes a look. There’s Griffin, puffy and bruised, holding a Socceroos jersey against his chest while Katerina and Viktor drape themselves around him, Carmen and Santos smiling in the background. The caption says the jersey is a gift from all the team and that it’s signed by the Socceroos.
‘Griffin looks pretty bad,’ Alex says.
And it’s true, he certainly does. ‘Did we make a donation?’ Ben asks. ‘That jersey wouldn’t have been cheap.’
‘Not yet,’ Jonica says. ‘But I’m sure Carmen will ask everyone to contribute.’
‘I’m amazed the hospital let them in,’ he says. ‘Didn’t you say he was having surgery today?’
‘Yes. It was this morning,’ Audrey says. ‘He said it was awful. They cut his cheek open and stuck a plate on his jawbone, and then they wired his mouth shut. He texted me a couple of hours ago.’
‘No wonder he looks a mess,’ Jonica says.
Audrey sighs. ‘I wish I could go and see him. It should have been all of us, giving him that jersey, not just a few people. How can they say it was from everyone when we didn’t even know about it? I’m going to text Katerina and ask why she didn’t invite me.’
‘So you and her are talking now?’ Alex asks, clearly baffled.
Ben’s surprised too.
Audrey flushes. ‘She’s trying to be nice to me.’
‘That’s a first,’ Ben grunts. ‘Don’t make it too easy for her.’
Audrey looks down at her hands and Jonica gives him a look. She seems to expect something of him, though God knows what it is!
Eventually, an idea comes. ‘How about I take you guys to see Griffin tomorrow after school?’ he suggests. The twins goggle at him. Then Audrey lights up with a smile.
Jonica raises her eyebrows as if in disbelief, and Ben smarts. Why is she so shocked by his offer? He’s not that much of a bastard, is he?
The next day, Ben leaves work early to take the twins to Westmead. There’s an accident on the M2 and he battles with traffic all the way home, then again on the way to the hospital. By the time they arrive, his patience has worn thin and there’s no parking anywhere. It takes three laps of the parking tower before he finally finds a space between two four-wheel-drives parked haphazardly. He squeezes the car into the narrow space, barking at the kids not to bump the doors when they get out.
In the trauma wing, a young nurse in dark blue scrubs leads them to a room with two beds that have blue curtains drawn around them. It’s quiet except for the beeping of a machine. The nurse peers behind the curtain of the nearest bed. ‘Hello, Griffin,’ she says. ‘You have guests. Is that okay?’
There’s a pause, then a croaky voice that sounds nothing like Griffin. It gives Ben a bad feeling. Audrey’s hand slips into his and grips tightly.
The nurse tugs the curtain back and the kids shuffle forward, stopping with stifled gasps when they see Griffin. Ben draws breath too. The poor kid is almost unrecognisable. Cheeks swollen and bruised. Deep red shadows under his eyes. A line of bristling black stitches along his jaw.
The nurse smiles brightly. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘I’ll leave you to it now. But don’t stay too long, please. He gets tired quickly, don’t you Griffin?’
When she’s gone, Audrey and Alex ogle Griffin and won’t speak, so it’s up to Ben. ‘Hi, Griffin,’ he says, stretching his lips into a smile. ‘How are you going, mate? Looks like you’ve been in the wars.’
Griffin grimaces and utters incoherent words, and Ben feels his smile hollowing out. What do you say to someone who can’t talk? He glances at the twins. Alex gapes while Audrey hides behind him. Is she crying?
‘How did the operation go yesterday?’ Ben asks. ‘Must be good to have it over. And how long before the fracture mends? About six weeks? That’s the usual time, isn’t it? I’m sure it’ll go quickly, then you’ll be back out there kicking balls.’ He’s gabbling and asking too many questions, so he stops, feeling awkward. Everything he said felt like lies anyway. He hopes Griffin couldn’t tell.
The boy struggles to respond, face contorting, speech so slurred you can’t understand a thing.
Ben’s trying to work out what to say next when Lang looms in the doorway in an old VB singlet and Stubbies. He reeks of cigarettes and looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. His face is so pale the scars stand out even more than usual, the faded tatts bleeding into each other. He nods at Ben then strides to the bed and places a hand on Griffin’s shoulder.
‘He can’t talk much coz his mouth’s wired shut,’ Lang explains. ‘The doc said it’ll take a few days before the swelling comes down and he can speak proper English again.’ He grins at Griffin.
The anguish on the kid’s face is palpable. Audrey makes a small choking sound and her hand twists in Ben’s. He musters a weak smile. ‘You look pretty good, Griffin, considering …’
Lang guffaws. ‘He won’t be winning any beauty contests for a while, but it won’t be long before he’s back out breaking hearts, hey, Griff?’
Ben nudges Audrey who holds out a large bulging paper bag containing the present Jonica bought this afternoon. ‘We got something for you,’ she says. ‘I hope it makes you feel better.’
Griffin takes the bag and clutches it to his chest.
‘Help him open it, Alex,’ Ben prompts.
Alex steps forward and reaches into the bag to pull out a Women’s World Cup ball. Griffin holds the ball in both hands and an animal grunt issues from his throat.
‘Doesn’t he like it?’ Alex asks, horror on his face. ‘We would have got a men’s one, but they didn’t have any.’
‘He’s fuckin’ rapt,’ Lang says, giving Griffin a pat. ‘Tomorrow he’s going home, and in a few weeks the wire will come out of his jaw, and then he’ll be back out there, wearing this ball out, won’t you, kid?’
Griffin nods, winces, touches a careful hand to his face.
‘Good on you, buddy,’ Lang says. Then to Ben, ‘Let’s get out of here for a sec so the kids can have a chat.’
Ben follows him into the corridor where Lang leans against the wall, the fake bravado draining away, weariness settling over him like a shadow. ‘How bad is the concussion?’ Ben asks.
Lang digs his hands in his pockets and dodges his eyes away, face creased with worry. ‘Glad you didn’t ask in there, mate, but yeah, not good. The doc says it’ll take him time to get back to normal. His memory’s shot. Short-term, anyway. Doesn’t even know what happened at the game. Can’t remember a thing.’
‘It’ll come back soon enough,’ Ben says.
‘Hope so.’ Lang rubs the livid scar on his cheek. ‘I feel sorry for the poor kid. He was s’posed to be trying for the Liverpool youth academy in December. Hope he’s better by then. If not, he’s going to be so disappointed. It’s been his dream for years. Tough for him to lose it like this, and not even get a chance.’
Ben feels for the man. He thinks of the all the media reports he’s read about head injuries, the clients with brain trauma he’s represented over the years. Some recovered, with time, but others were left with long-term problems: learning difficulties, social dislocation, mood changes, brain fog, troubles completing set tasks. He mentioned all this to the police when he gave his statement, hopes Griffin doesn’t become one of those statistics. ‘Anything we can do to help at home?’ he asks.
Lang scratches at the scar on his cheek again. ‘Nah, we’ll be right. Griff and me are used to bumbling along on our own, just the two of us.’
‘Jonica would be happy to cook a few meals,’ Ben offers. ‘Where do you live? I can get her to drop something round.’
Lang’s smile tightens. ‘Thanks, mate, but nah. We can just get takeaway. Griff won’t be eating anything solid for a while, anyway.’
Ben casts around for conversation. He and Lang have never talked much, and it’s awkward to know what to say. Then he remembers that Lang used to play rugby league, so he asks about some of the current players. Lang quickly gains momentum, commenting on a few recent games, how soft league has become since they fiddled the rules. ‘Wasn’t like that back when I played,’ he grunts. ‘Used to be a man’s game. Now it’s tame.’
Ben smiles at the irony. From what he’s heard, Lang might have had a long career at a professional level if the rules had protected him. But it wouldn’t do to think like that, would it? Might do a man’s head in to consider the money he could have made if he hadn’t been dropped because of injuries from bad tackles.
They’re still talking about league when Alex comes out, long faced, and asks if he can go back to the car.
‘Can you wait just a bit longer?’ Ben suggests. ‘I’m not sure I want you to walk over there on your own in the dark.’ He notes the smudges under his son’s eyes. It’s been a tough few weeks for Alex, and there’s more to come yet, with the operation to reconstruct his ACL booked soon.
‘I’ll take him,’ Lang offers. ‘I’m heading out for a smoke anyway, so I can walk him to the car park.’
Ben hands the keys to Alex and watches them head off, Lang like a wrestler beside long skinny Alex. He turns towards the ward, and now he can hear the murmur of voices coming from Griffin’s room. He peers through the doorway, telling himself he’s not really eavesdropping.
There’s Audrey, perched on the edge of the bed, holding Griffin’s hand, her face a mix of angst, hope and tenderness. It takes Ben back. He remembers his first girlfriend in high school, the awkwardness of it. Lust and longing entangled with fear.
‘Are you really okay?’ Audrey asks, tilting her head. Griffin mumbles something and her brow puckers. ‘You’re not, are you? It must be awful with your mouth wired shut. How do you eat?’
He points to a plastic cup with a straw poking out of it on the roll-away tray by his bed. ‘Baby food,’ he slurs. ‘It’s disgusting.’
‘How long do you have to eat that stuff?’ she asks.
‘Till I die.’
‘Don’t die,’ she says, dipping her head.
Colour flares on the boy’s cheeks and an intense look lights his eyes: hurt, love and regret, all mashed together.
‘You must be looking forward to going home,’ she says with a hopeful smile. ‘When you’re better we could meet at the oval again. Remember?’
Griffin shakes his head and Audrey’s face falls. ‘You must remember,’ she says. ‘You came on your bike and you were late and I was a bit pissed off and we kicked a ball for ages and then we lay down on the grass and looked at the clouds.’
So that’s how it started, Ben thinks.
Griffin gives her a coy look. ‘I held your hand,’ he mumbles.
‘I knew you remembered.’ Her glowing smile carves a gash in Ben’s heart.
‘I don’t ’member the game,’ Griffin croaks.
‘Everyone was trying to stop the fighting and you accidentally got in the way.’
The kid looks bewildered. ‘I must’ve been stupid.’
‘No, you were only trying to help. It was bad luck.’
Griffin’s face clouds. ‘I want to get back to training.’
Audrey tightens. ‘Won’t it be a while before you can play? If you get hurt again it might make things worse.’
‘Worse ’n this?’ Griffin’s voice cracks and he scowls at her.
Audrey glances away, fidgets with her hands. Then she looks at him, her face soft again. ‘Your lips are dry,’ she says. ‘Can I put some lip chap on for you?’
Griffin’s cheeks redden, but he nods.
She takes a chap stick from her pocket, leans close, dabs the stick to his lips, stretching her mouth like Jonica does when applying make-up. It hurts to watch, but Ben can’t look away.
There’s a long silence as Audrey and Griffin stare at each other. She lifts a finger and gently touches his wound, jolts when he flinches.
‘Have you seen it?’ she asks.
The boy shakes his head.
‘Want me to show you?’
Griffin nods and Ben’s heart stops. The boy won’t want to see how bad he looks right now—gaunt and pale, bruised and lopsided, lips thick and scaly.
Audrey takes a photo then leans forward to show Griffin. Ben holds his breath.
There’s a moment of silence, then a flash of something hard on Griffin’s face. He pushes the phone away, refusing to look at Audrey.
‘Please, Griffin,’ she says, voice trembling. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Not upset,’ he slurs. ‘Just tired. Need rest.’
She barrels from the room straight into Ben’s arms. He holds her close, pressing her head to his shoulder while she sobs silently.
They start down the corridor, hand in hand, and haven’t gone far when they see Katerina and Carmen at the nurses’ station. Audrey stiffens. Ben releases her hand and loops a protective arm around her shoulders. Why are they here? he wonders. Didn’t they visit yesterday?
A nurse passes something across the counter to Katerina who glances their way, face brightening when she notices them. ‘Hey, Mama. There’s Audrey!’
There’s no way of avoiding them so Ben and Audrey keep walking.
When they’re close, Katerina rushes forward and grasps Audrey by the elbow. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks. ‘Have you seen him? How is he?’
Audrey recoils at Katerina’s touch. ‘He looks bad. Are you here to see him again?’
‘No. I left my hoodie behind yesterday, so we came to pick it up.’ She holds up a blue club hoodie to show Audrey, then her face clouds. ‘I felt awful when I got your message yesterday. You’re right, I should have come with you instead of Viktor. He doesn’t even care about Griffin.’
‘That’s okay. Did he like the Socceroos jersey? We gave him a new ball.’
‘Yeah, he loved the jersey. Hey, let’s go down to the cafe and get an ice cream.’
Ben watches the whole goddamned show, disbelieving. He’s astounded when Katerina hooks Audrey’s arm and leads her towards the lift. Audrey glances back, slightly alarmed, but goes with Katerina anyway.
And there he is: stranded with Carmen, who looks at him with a mixture of mirth and discomfort in her eyes.
‘Right,’ he says, in a vague attempt to disperse the awkwardness. ‘I suppose we should follow them.’
The girls have already stepped inside one of the lifts, and by the time Ben and Carmen arrive, it’s too late: the doors have closed. Ben presses the button and hopes another lift comes quickly.
A strained silence stretches between them … until he rallies his acting skills and initiates a polite conversation he doesn’t want to have. ‘Griffin’s a bit of a mess,’ he says. ‘It’s going to take him months to recover. A blow like that can be serious. I guess they’ll have to wait and see how he goes …’
He’s relieved when a bell dings and the doors of the second lift open. It’s empty inside and they step in and retreat to opposite corners, which is still too close for Ben. He pushes the button for the ground floor.
Silence yawns once more, and Ben shifts uncomfortably. Surely it’s Carmen’s turn now. Why should he be the one to make all the effort?
The lift lurches as they begin to descend.
‘Katerina’s not a bad kid, you know,’ Carmen says, glancing at him with a defensive gleam in her eyes. ‘What she did was wrong, and she knows it. But underneath, she’s actually decent. She’s doing confirmation later this year.’
Ben regards her with cynicism. Does she truly believe that going to church buys forgiveness? ‘Good for her,’ he says, in a neutral tone. He notices Carmen fiddling with her crucifix, realises she’s nervous. Good, he thinks, so she ought to be.
The lift stops and they exit. Carmen leads the way to the cafe where the girls are at the counter, waiting to pay for their ice creams. Katerina is doing most of the talking. Audrey looks overwhelmed.
‘We can’t stay long,’ Ben says to Carmen. ‘Alex is in the car.’
‘I can drop Audrey home if you like,’ she offers. ‘Or we can squeeze in a quick coffee while the girls finish.’
Ben stares at her, battling to hide his incredulity. ‘Thanks, but Audrey will have to come home with me. She’s got lots of homework.’
Carmen raises an eyebrow, and he’s sure she knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t care. Audrey might be ready for some sort of reconciliation with Katerina, but Ben’s light-years from having a coffee with Carmen.
Next evening, Ben scrambles to finish reading some documents then leaves work early to take Audrey to training. Alex went home with Noah, which is perfect; Miles will take him to training, and that means Ben can focus on Audrey.
After the usual afternoon tussle with traffic, he makes it home just in time. He stumps into the house from the garage and calls out, ‘Grab your things, Audrey. I’ll just change my clothes then we’ll go.’
In the kitchen, Jonica is stirring a pot on the stove. She looks up, lips tight, shadows under her eyes.
‘Everything okay?’ he asks.
‘She didn’t go to school.’
‘Why not?’
‘She wasn’t feeling well.’
Ben dumps his keys on the bench. ‘Well, that’s ridiculous. I know she’s upset, but this is getting out of hand. I thought she was okay. She seemed to get on all right with Katerina yesterday. Where is she?’
‘In her room.’
‘Is she ready for training?’
‘I don’t think so … but Ben, please don’t go too hard on her. She’s doing it tough.’
Ben tries to suppress irritation. He’s done backflips to get home from work, and now Audrey’s not even ready. He marches down the hall to her room and opens the door. She’s on the bed, legs crossed, phone in hand, eyes wide and startled. She’s still in her pyjamas, and Honey’s beside her, looking equally astonished. ‘Why aren’t you ready?’ he asks.
