Page 45 of The Wing
“Hi, darling,” I say with a rough and ragged voice. “I’m having a bit of a shit day.” I laugh ruefully and rub a hand through my hair as embarrassment races through me and my nose stings. “Sorry I woke you.”
Liam shakes his head and brings the camera closer to him. “Don’t worry about that. Are you okay? What happened?”
“Nothing really. It’s just…” I trail off. I’ve barely spoken to Liam the last few days because of my own stupid anxieties, and I don’t know if I have a right to dump all this on him. But it’s too late now.
“What?”
I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t think I’m going to play very well.”
“Why? What happened? Shoulder still being a bitch?” Liam asks as he settles against the pillows, getting cosy and warm, and I wish I was there with him in his brown and cream bedroom instead of holed up in a small room by myself, trying to remember how to breathe.
“Kind of. I don’t know. Training’s been…fine. Good, even. But everyone keeps asking about it, and I keep thinking about the game that got me leave. I’m worried it’s gonna happen again.”
Liam’s quiet on the screen, but his eyes flick me up and down before he says, “Is that why you weren’t responding to my messages? I stressed you out with the questions?” I shrug, not sure what to say. It was stupid of me to ignore those messages, but I couldn’t figure out what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Don’t apologise. I should have told you. It’s a lot being back with the team with everything hanging over me, and I complained about it all week when I was with you.”
Liam rolls his eyes. “Hemi, you spoke about it like three times. You’re having some issues, andthat’s okay. You don’t need to be perfect, and you’re allowed to talk about what’s on your mind with the people that care about you.” Liam sits up in bed. “In fact, you should talk to people so it doesn’t bottle up inside and you’re left drowning alone.” Liam bites his lip. “I care about you, Hemi, and I want to know if you’re okay or not okay or what annoyed you or even what you ate for breakfast. I want to know so I can support you. That’s what—” He cuts himself off, but I wish he hadn’t. I want to know what the end of that sentence is. “If you want to tell me, I’m here, or if you don’t wantto talk, all you have to say is ‘Liam, I don’t want to talk about that right now’ and I’ll leave it alone.”
I nod and sit on the floor with my back against the wall, my legs too weak to stand. Another bad sign right before kickoff. “I’m sorry I ignored the messages instead of responding and telling you how I felt.”
“That’s okay. Are you feeling any better now?” Liam asks, getting up and switching on lights as he walks to the kitchen. He puts the kettle on and leans against the bench.
I analyse and take note of my body. Despite my shaky legs and that stupid phantom tightness in my shoulder that refuses to leave, I’m feeling…not bad. Not great. But nowhere near as bad as I had twenty minutes ago. “Not awful.”
“Not awful is good.” Liam pours boiling water over a tea bag.
“Are you gonna watch the game?” I ask quietly. Usually I don’t care if family and friends watch, but after breaking down in an empty room and being coached how to breathe, it would be reassuring to know Liam was watching. That he was rooting for me.
Liam smiles. “Yeah. Gotta watch your comeback.”
I smile faintly in return and trace a finger over my name stitched on my shorts. “What if it isn’t a comeback. Or it’s a bad one?”
“Hemi baby, you know rugby.” Liam brings the camera close to his face again. “You know exactly what to do. People who are good at what they do, whether it’s their job, or a hobby, or something they have to do but hate, are continuously learning. Failure is a good thing. You learn from it and get better.” He points at me. “You are good at what you do. You’ve had a setback, but you’re learning how to work through it and with it. The coaches wouldn’t have kept you starting if they thought you had more to work through. You’re ready.” Liam shrugs. “And you know what? If you have more issues during the game,you learn from it. You work on it and your mentality to figure out what’s happening. If you were the kind of person to give up, you wouldn’t be a professional rugby player in South Africa competing in the Freedom Cup.”
I tilt my head and consider his words, glancing at my black jersey. The national team withmyname on the back. Because I’m the starting right-wing. “That’s true.”
“Did you do any sightseeing this week?” Liam disappears briefly from the screen as he sits on the couch and clicks on the TV, washing him in different coloured light.
I shift on the floor, trying to find a more comfortable position. Liam gracefully shifts the conversation away from my anxieties, and I finally breathe easy and relax against the wall—as much as I can sitting on a concrete floor. I should have called him as soon as I felt the stress creeping in instead of letting it stew and waiting for it to go away. Liam knows me. Knows what to do and how to calm me. I was an idiot to ignore his messages. “Nah, too busy with training. I can’t believe you did the hike by yourself. In the rain.”
Liam groans. “I know, it was awful. Cold and wet and took ages, and when I got home, there wasn’t food and a bath waiting for me,” he says accusingly but smiles quickly.
“I’ll have to make sure you go on a hike when I’m there, then. Or you could not go on them without me.”
“True, but it worked so well last time. I thought it was the hike, but maybe,”—he shrugs and looks sheepish—“maybe it was you.”
A slow heat spreads from my chest and into my veins. “All you need to do is call me when you want to talk. And,” I start hesitantly, “I’m sorry for ignoring some of your messages. And not texting you myself. It was never about ignoringyouor not wanting to talk to you. I want to hear all your thoughts, especially if it means you’re going on hikes instead of talking,so when I’m ready to talk about something, I’ll let you know. I promise.”
Liam’s face flashes green, then yellow in the TV light, and he nods at me slowly. “I thought you were ignoring me.”
“I was being a moody cunt.” Liam snorts, and my goal to make him laugh is achieved. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“I needed to be up soon anyway to watch the game,” Liam says, nodding at the TV. “They’ve started interviews now.”
I scramble to my feet. “Shit, have they?”
“Not you guys, and they keep going back to the studio hosts. You’re good. Where are you?”
