Page 99 of After the Siren
The Falcons supporters were on their feet as soon as the transport started moving, and the huddle broke apart so that everyone could jog over to escort Jake off the field. Theo was cornered by the doctor before he could get across to see Jake, and he submitted reluctantly to having his nose poked at.
‘Not broken,’ the doctor told him, cheerfully, as Theo tried to hold still. ‘So you’re the second lucky one today.’
‘Jake’s okay?’
‘He won’t enjoy the concussion, but he’ll mend. Now, I’m going to tape up your nose so you can go back on. Try not to get hit in the face again.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
With Jake out for the game, they couldn’t sub Theo off, so he was just going to have to cope with the nose. Inevitably, every Sharks player would try to clobber him in the same spot again. He pulled off his bloody jumper and accepted a replacement. Fuck them.
After that, Theo played one of the best halves of football of his life. It was as though his rage and then his relief had seared everything else away. He managed a filthy goal from the pocket when two Sharks players collided, then slotted an absolute beauty from outside the arc. It came off his boot perfectly, sailed through the goal as the crowd screamed their approval.
He felt absolutely nothing.
It was after midnight by the time Theo parked Jake’s car in the sharehouse driveway. They’d won the game, but it wasn’t the kind of win anyone felt that good about. Jake was obviously feeling terrible. He hadn’t even given Theo any shit about his driving. He sat slumped in the passenger seat, his eyes closed.
Jake had been sent to hospital as a precaution. He’d been discharged once Theo and Xen arrived and promised that they’d keep an eye on him, keep him fed and watered, and stop him from looking at screens. The Registrar had repeated the latter instruction several times.
Xen and Paddy hadn’t asked why Theo had been the one to sit with Jake while they waited for an update, why he’d been theone to get Jake’s keys, why he hadn’t left Jake except to take the world’s shortest shower.
Theo had expected to be the subject of a solid chewing-out from Davo, and then a quiet talk from Yelks. Instead, Davo had sat him down and asked, very seriously, whether he was alright. He’d managed to explain that yes, he was, and no, that wasn’t how he’d normally react on the field, but it had been a very nasty hit. Luckily the hit had been so egregious that nobody seemed to think it was surprising that Theo had lost his shit.
That was good, but it didn’t solve Theo’s problem. Hehadn’tlost his shit because Jake was his friend. Yes, he would have gotten into anyone who’d hit Paddy like that, or Xen, or any of his teammates, but it wouldn’t have felt the same. He wouldn’t have tried topunch someone in the face.If Paddy hadn’t stopped him, it would have been an eight-week suspension. It might have been the end of things with the Falcons.
He’d thought about that while sitting with Jake, holding a bucket for him while he threw up. He’d thought about it while Jake leaned on him on the way back to the car, unsteady on his feet and trusting Theo to support him. It was the closest they’d been in a fortnight.
There were sensible decisions and career planning, and then there was the warmth of Jake against his side, the way Jake had nestled closer, too tired to pretend he didn’t want to. The way it had felt right to be the person waiting with Jake, the person who knew where he kept his keys, the person who took the doctor’s written sheet of instructions and promised to take care of him.
Jake had been lucky, the doctor had said. He was going to be miserable, but it was his first bad concussion (somehow), and the doctor hadn’t seemed too worried.
Theo knew, objectively, that AFL careers were short. That had been hammered into him. He’d be lucky to still be playing at thirty. A bad hit, some bad luck, and he’d be gone before then.He’d given up Jake as though that could somehow guarantee his professional longevity. As though being with Jake was inevitably the end of his career. As though it was as simple asJake or footy, pick one.
Theo steered Jake towards his bedroom, then changed his mind and nudged him gently onto the couch. ‘Stay here, I’m going to make your bed.’
Jake looked up at him, belligerent. ‘Who says I didn’t make it?’
‘Data.’
Theo made the bed in record time and returned to the patient. Jake was lying back on the couch and looking miserably around the living room. Xen and Paddy had distracted him with a short rundown of the melee, but retreated to the kitchen when Theo reappeared.
‘Xen won’t show me the video of the fight,’ Jake complained. Then added, ‘I can’t believe you tried to punch on.’
Theo decided to ignore the last part. ‘Good. You’re not supposed to be looking at screens. Stay there, I’m going to get you some water and something to eat.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Tough.’
Jake pouted. It figured he’d be the world’s worst patient.
Paddy was perched at the kitchen counter, eating the proteinpowder-based horror he described as ice-cream. Xen was defrosting something in the microwave.
‘Chicken soup,’ he explained.
‘Great.’
‘How’s the patient?’ Paddy asked.
