Page 13 of After the Siren

Chapter Six

The first day of extras passed uneventfully.

Theo apologised. Cunningham apologised. They both focused on not throwing up during the sprint session.

And sure, the convivial back slaps felt a bit forced, but at least nobody tried to punch on.

Also, Theo had observed at camp that Cunningham was not a morning person.

Davo took the session himself, unsmiling, but Theo detected a slight thawing by the end. Apparently the back slaps had done their work.

On the second day, Theo woke up half an hour before his alarm and decided he might as well head to the club.

He could make a coffee there without waking up Eva, and the pre-workout options in the communal kitchen were good.

He would say this for the Falcons: they had money, and with money came awesome facilities.

There was a gorgeous player lounge with a view of the oval, extremely comfortable couches and booths, and an endless supply of snacks and smoothie ingredients.

He made a coffee and a protein shake, then realised he hadn’t brought a headband with him (Cunningham had been right, damn him) and went to retrieve one from his locker. The club was a little eerie at this time of day, lights clicking on one by one as Theo walked through the silent corridors.

He walked into the locker room and froze.

Cunningham was slumped in front of his locker, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

He was definitely crying. Before Theo could decide whether to back the hell up and pretend he hadn’t seen anything, Cunningham looked up.

His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his cheeks wet with tears.

‘Great,’ Cunningham said, dragging the back of his forearm across his face.

Theo took a step into the room and hesitated. ‘Are ... are you okay?’ Stupid question.

‘Yup.’ Cunningham popped the ‘p’. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, looking about as far from fine as it was possible for a person to be. ‘I’ll meet you out there.’

It was the out Theo needed. He could leave, head to the oval, and they would never have to acknowledge this had happened. But also, something was wrong. Really wrong, maybe.

Theo didn’t move any closer, but he didn’t leave either. ‘Did you need ...’ he started.

Cunningham let out a slow breath. It shook.

His eyes looked even bluer than usual. ‘You don’t have to pretend to give a fuck,’ he said, without rancour.

He sounded exhausted. There were purple marks like bruises under his eyes.

Had he slept? ‘I just need a sec. Like I said, I’ll meet you out there. ’

It was definitely none of Theo’s business. He should leave.

‘Fuck,’ Cunningham said, curling in on himself a little more, his shoulders shaking.

Theo almost turned away – he was intruding. Then Cunningham sobbed, just once. A harsh, animal sound of real grief that hooked under Theo’s ribs.

He crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of Cunningham. Cunningham looked up, startled.

‘Okay,’ Theo said. ‘I know you’d probably rather this was anyone but me, but I’m not just going to leave you here.’

Cunningham looked at him. ‘I don’t want to talk to you about this,’ he said, quietly, as though he was talking to himself.

‘You don’t have to. I know you think I’m an asshole, but I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this upset. Do you need me to tell Davo that you’re sick? Do you need me to call Xenos or Riley?’ Although presumably Cunningham could have talked to one of them before he left the house. ‘Yelks?’

‘No,’ Cunningham said, with conviction. ‘I’ll get it together.’

‘Okay,’ Theo said again. God, this was awkward. ‘Um,’ he started.

Cunningham’s eyes met his, and then Cunningham started to laugh.

There was an edge of hysteria to it, but it made Theo laugh as well, and then he couldn’t stop.

He grabbed the bench to keep himself upright (and so he didn’t grab Cunningham’s thigh).

Cunningham got himself under control and scrubbed at his face.

Theo leaned across to pull a towel out of his own locker and handed it to him.

‘Thanks,’ Cunningham said. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be in here. Xen and Paddy were up stupid early to get ready to go hiking and they would have noticed if I’d ... lost my shit,’ he finished.

‘I’m sorry I walked in.’

‘Yeah, I’ll bet.’

‘I mean, if you wanted privacy.’

Cunningham bit his lip. ‘I don’t know what I want. But thanks.’

‘For what?’

‘Giving a shit? Or giving me a towel, at least.’

‘No problem.’ Theo levered himself up and sat down on the bench next to Cunningham. Not close enough that their thighs were touching, but closer than he would have a couple of days ago. ‘You sure I can’t get you anything?’

‘Yeah.’

They sat in silence for a few moments, Cunningham’s breathing getting steadier, even though there were fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. Theo put a hand on his shoulder before he could second-guess himself.

Cunningham sighed, leaning into the touch a little.

‘My mum has cancer,’ he said, staring at the wall across from them. ‘She had it, it went away, it came back. It probably won’t go away again.’

Jesus. Theo didn’t know what to say.

Cunningham was still staring at a spot on the wall. ‘I was supposed to be home yesterday for the telehealth appointment she had with her oncologist.’

‘I’m sorry.’ That seemed very inadequate.

Cunningham rested his head against the side of his locker. ‘The news ... anyway, you don’t need to hear about it. But I didn’t sleep much.’

‘Can I go and say something to Davo? I don’t think you should be training this morning.’

Weirdly, that made Cunningham smile. It was a very damp, trembly smile, but it was a smile. ‘Mum’d give me a spray if she knew I’d used her to get out of extras. So no, but thanks.’

‘All good.’ Being nice to someone whose mother was potentially dying seemed like a pretty low fucking bar. ‘You want a coffee or anything?’ At least that would be something he could do.

‘You volunteering to make me one?’

‘Sure.’

‘That would be good, actually. Thanks.’

‘How do you take it?’

‘Reckon you can manage a cappuccino?’

‘Uh.’ Theo drank black coffee at the club partly because he didn’t want to have to learn how to make the machine do anything more complicated.

‘I like a lot of choccy sprinkles.’ Jake’s face broke into a smile. ‘I’m joking,’ he said, after a moment. ‘There’s a button for a latte, but I’m not picky. If it’s coffee, I’ll drink it.’

By the time Theo returned, Cunningham – Jake, maybe, at this point – had obviously washed his face and made a significant effort to get his shit together. Theo handed him the coffee. He was fairly sure it was a latte. He’d also brought them each a banana. Nature’s energy snack.

Jake polished off his coffee and his snack while Theo finished his own coffee. The silence didn’t feel awkward, even if the whole situation was objectively incredibly awkward.

They made it out onto the oval with plenty of time to spare. Davo grunted a good morning and then they were off. By the time they were done, Theo was dripping with sweat. Davo was taking the punishment dimension of these extras very seriously.

‘Stretch,’ Davo said, then stomped off towards the club and his office. Jake looked like he was a couple of breaths away from vomiting.

‘I’m going to grab us both a Gatorade,’ Theo told him, and jogged off. He’d stayed with Jake when he was distraught, but it was only decent to give someone the chance to spew privately into a bin.

By the time he got back, Jake was looking less green but more clammy. Theo handed him a water first and he rinsed his mouth out before he accepted the Gatorade.

‘I think he’s trying to kill us,’ Jake said, flopping down onto the grass. ‘Which I guess is one way of solving the problem.’

Theo followed him onto the grass, though less dramatically, and folded forward into a hamstring stretch.

‘I’m sorry about the skit, and the interview,’ Jake said. He was lying on his back, staring up at the soft morning sky. Maybe stretching was beyond him. ‘And sorry I didn’t apologise before. It felt awkward as fuck to bring it up when you joined the team out of nowhere.’

‘Thanks,’ Theo said, because it still wasn’t really okay, but he did get it. ‘I’m sorry ... about what I said. And for being a dick.’

Jake rolled over to look at Theo. ‘Thanks.’ He sat up and propped himself against the boundary fence, still not looking like he had any intention of stretching. He watched Theo get into a pigeon pose and then said, ‘Does that mean I’m not a showboating hack?’ His grin was all mischief again.

‘I’ll take back the hack part.’

‘Fuck off,’ Jake said, but not like he meant it.

‘Like you can deny it.’

Jake shrugged. ‘If you’ve got it ...’

Theo rolled his eyes.

‘Wanna grab breakfast?’ Jake asked. ‘The place around the corner will be open.’

Theo was sure he meant to say No thanks , but instead his mouth said, ‘Yeah.’ Then he clarified. ‘I want a word with Davo, can you wait?’

‘Sure, I wanna shower. Meet you in the foyer in twenty?’

‘Sounds good.’

Once they parted ways, Theo took a steadying breath. He could do this. He wasn’t going to be the reason Jake didn’t get to spend the two days before Christmas with his sick mum.

Jake wasn’t sure what Bestavros had said to Davo to get them out of the remaining extras – he obviously hadn’t said anything about Jake’s mum, because Davo would have bailed him up about that – but whatever he’d said had worked.

Yelks had called him to deliver the good news around lunchtime, and Jake had been in his car and headed for Phillip Island an hour later.

Breakfast at Jane Orangutan had been nice.

A bit weird, but nice. Stavs reminded Jake a bit of Xen back when they’d first become friends: kind of reserved with new people, funny as hell when he opened up.

He had a great smile when he smiled properly, and an even better laugh.

Jake had spent quite a lot of breakfast trying to get a smile.

He pulled in at his mum’s place a bit past 3 pm.

The house had looked the same for as long as he could remember: the eucalyptus in the front yard that he’d fallen out of when he was six (broken collarbone), his mum’s beat-up Subaru in the driveway because she never put it in the garage, the pots on the verandah that Lydia filled with herbs and flowers, the deckchairs you couldn’t sit in until you’d turned them upside down to check for spiders.

The front door opened as he got out of the car and Keeley hurtled down the front steps, Plugger hot on her heels and barking ecstatically.

Keeley’s parents liked to take a cruise at Christmas, so she’d gotten into the habit of spending Christmas with Jake.

She flung herself at Jake and he caught her, spinning her around.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder while Plugger leaped all over them both.

Jake’s thighs were going to be scratched to hell.

‘I missed you, dickhead,’ Keeley said into his t-shirt.

‘Missed you too, shortass,’ he said, trying not to get a mouthful of her hair.

She kicked one foot into his back, and he pretended he was going to drop her. They were both gasping with laughter by the time he got up the steps. She hopped down once they made it to the door so he could wrap Lydia in a tight hug.

She always smelled of paint and jasmine. She’d never tried to be a parent – had installed herself gradually into cool aunt territory – but she gave the best hugs and made the best cocktails.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said.

‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Out on a walk. She thought she’d beat you back.’ They exchanged looks. An apocalypse could be heading for Rhyll and his mum would still get her afternoon walk in.

Jake grabbed his stuff from the car and lugged it through the house and out to his den – also unchanged from when he’d left home at eighteen. Keeley followed him in and handed him a beer.

‘Thanks, love,’ he said, and dodged her elbow. She flopped onto his bed and he gave her a short version of the last couple of days. They texted almost constantly, so she’d been across the Bestavros situation. In that she’d mainly sent him the eyeroll and/ or eggplant emojis.

They were drawn back into the kitchen by the smell of melted cheese. Lydia plonked two trays of nachos onto the kitchen counter (one of them vegan, for her and Keeley). ‘Save some for Debbie,’ she ordered.

‘You snooze, you lose,’ Jake said, trying to avoid burning his fingers on the melted cheese. He’d just put a salsa-laden chip into his mouth when the front door opened and there were footsteps in the hall.

‘Look what the cat dragged in,’ Lydia called as Jake’s mum walked into the kitchen. She was in a Falcons t-shirt, her favourite footy shorts and some sneakers Lydia had been trying to throw out for years.

‘Welcome home,’ she said, and if Jake couldn’t talk past the lump in his throat while he hugged her, nobody was judging.