Tigers and Devils

by Sean Kennedy

  “Shame you couldn’t wash that grimace off your face,” he remarked as I walked back into the lounge room.

  I threw a cushion at him. He caught it easily and handballed it back to me. I, of course, missed, and it flew into the study.

  “Nice,” Declan said. “You’re a natural.”

  I headed straight out the door and left Dec to lock up as he continued guffawing at my expense.

  THE four of us stood outside my parents’ house like we were about to storm the castle gates, battle-weary as we were.

  Music was blasting away, some generic rock I didn’t recognise. Man, was I getting out of touch with the youth of today? Maybe I was, especially if I used phrases like “youth of today.” There was also a lot of yelling over the music, the clinking of beer bottles, and general rabblerousing. The smell of barbecued meat floated about, and Roger’s stomach grumbled in anticipation.

  “Do you smell that?” I asked. “It smells like teen spirit.”

  “Even Tim’s too old for teen spirit,” Fran said, burrowing herself further into her coat. “Can we go in? I’m fucking freezing.”

  “There’s still time to run for our lives,” I pleaded.

  “He’s like this before every party,” Roger told Declan.

  “Yeah, Simon,” Fran butted in. “Remember that last party we forced you to? Where would you be now if we hadn’t done that?”

  “Desperately lonely and unhappy,” Roger answered for me.

  “Too right,” Declan said smugly.

  “All of you… suck,” I said lamely, and I trudged off ahead of them, probably to my doom.

  A few people milling in the hallway stared at me as I walked in, probably trying to figure out which side of the engagement party I belonged to. Like I said, Tim and I didn’t tend to hang out much. But when Roger, Fran and Declan appeared behind me there was an instant look of recognition in their eyes. Well, only in regards to Declan.

  We pushed through into the kitchen, where Mum was bossing Gabby and some of her friends around. Mum squealed when she saw me, showing more excitement about my appearance than social etiquette would have normally allowed.

  “Hi, Mum,” I said, dealing awkwardly with her exuberant hugging. “You been into the sherry already?”

  “Only a nip or two,” she replied, eyes glistening. “Hello, Roger, Fran.”

  “Hey, Mrs. M,” they replied in unison.

  “And who’s your friend?” she asked me, playing dumb.

  Squirming with embarrassment that she was trying to pull that worn ploy off, I replied, “This is my friend, Vincent van Gogh.”

  She glowered. “Very funny.”

  Declan stepped forward to rescue the situation, his hand extended. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Murray. I’m Declan.”

  “Of course you are,” she practically purred. “Let me tell you, Declan, you have your hands full with this one.”

  Fran snorted; Roger dug her in the ribs.

  “I think I can handle him,” Declan said pleasantly.

  This time, Roger snorted and tried to cover it up with a coughing fit when he saw me eyeing the ashtray on the table as if I were going to pick it up and belt him with it.

  Gabby and her friends rushed forward now, and I was shoved aside as Declan was surrounded with those wanting to make his acquaintance. Fran and Roger looked horrified and scuttled over to join me just as Mum pulled me into a deeper corner of the kitchen.

  “He’s lovely,” she said approvingly.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “Really lovely.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Have you two—”

  “Simon!” Fran interrupted. “Drinks!”

  I wanted to kiss her, I was so thankful. “Coming right up!”

  Roger began to make small talk with my mother while I crossed to the fridge, opened it, and wondered if I could fit inside. If it weren’t for all the people who would be opening it looking for drinks, it could have been an option.

  Mum was distracted by the microwave beeping. “Your brother’s out the back,” she announced as she sailed past me.

  I handed Roger and Fran their drinks; Declan was still surrounded so I held onto his.

  “Shouldn’t you rescue him?” Roger asked.

  “I think he’s used to being accosted on a regular basis,” I replied with a shrug.

  “You are the worst boyfriend,” Fran admonished me.

  “Yep.” At the moment all I was thinking about was my own skin.

  Gabby broke off from the group and ran outside. She hadn’t said hello to me yet. Fran raised her eyebrows and calmly swigged beer from her bottle.

  My future sister-in-law ran back in with her fiancé in tow. They swept past me to rejoin the Declan brigade.

  “Nice to see you, Tim,” I sang out, receiving no answer.

  “Nice,” Roger commented.

  I pulled the engagement present the four of us had sprung for out of my bag and placed it upon the kitchen table with the others. With Declan and most of my family preoccupied, I slipped away to my old bedroom to put my bag down and hang my coat up for the brief amount of time we would be staying here.

  You couldn’t tell that I had once lived here; I managed to strip away most of my presence and take it with me when I had moved out. It wasn’t that I was trying to cut myself out of the house; I just liked my stuff being with me. The room was now more of a storage area, although an old single bed stood in the corner for anybody who might happen to stay over.

  The door opened, and Declan slipped in. “You hiding already?”

  “I would have thought you had more reason to hide than anybody else.”

  He shrugged. “I’m used to it.” He looked around. “This is really your bedroom?”

  “My bedroom’s in my house,” I said pointedly.

  “You know what I mean. I just can’t really imagine you living here. There seems to be nothing of you left in here.”

  “Yeah, because it’s at my house.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. He moved over to me and slid an arm through the crook of mine. “You’re really not comfortable here, are you?”

  I sighed and let myself become more malleable against him. “I can handle it.”

  “So it’s me you’re so tense about, then?”

  I nodded reluctantly. “I just don’t want anybody to be a fuckwit to you.”

  “If they are, they are.” He shrugged. “But you can’t give yourself an ulcer stressing about something that hasn’t happened.”

  “I guess not.”

  “You’re a prime candidate for a heart attack before you’re forty, Simon,” he murmured. “In case you haven’t noticed I’ve had enough worry with my dad, and I don’t want to have to start looking for warning signals in you.”

  Great. A guilt trip on top of everything. “You don’t have to worry.”

  “But I will, because you will.”

  “So I’ll put you in an early grave as well?”

  He laughed, but gave me a kiss as an answer. I responded a bit more enthusiastically than I should have, but I guess I wanted to feel reassured.

  And, of course, Tim walked in.

  “Oh, gross!” he cried and childishly slapped his hands over his eyes. “The goggles, they do nothing!” he said in a heavy Austrian accent, mimicking Radiation Man from The Simpsons.

  Dec gave me a sympathetic look.

  Tim peeked out between his fingers. “If you’re finished, Declan, I want you to meet some of my friends.”

  I would have been tempted to tell him to fuck off after that display, but Declan nodded with much more effort than I would have given.

  “Hi, brother,” I said pointedly.

  “Yeah, hi,” he said dismissively. “Come on, Declan. Haven’t got all night.”

  Now it was my turn to give an apologetic look. But Declan didn’t even have a chance to see it as Tim whisked him away.

  I stood in my empty room and slowly
gathered up the courage to brave the maelstrom once more.

  I BARELY got to see Declan over the next hour. Any attendees of the party would have been hard pressed to believe we were a couple, as we were hardly seen in the same circles. Especially as my circle consisted of Fran and Roger, hiding in a dark corner. It wasn’t like I thought couples should be glued to the hip, but let’s face it, my date was more popular than I was, even amongst people I knew.

  Declan’s presence was certainly the talk of the party, but I got my share of unabashed stares and certain whispers as well. At one point when Roger disappeared to get more drinks and Fran followed him to go the loo, I was left standing stupidly in the corner by myself, hoping the shadows hid me well enough. Basically, it was my usual position in any large social situation (unless it was work and I was forced to sally forth in order to earn my pay check), and believe me, it brought back memories of the party where I first met Declan. Once again, I was hiding, and he was in the limelight, uncomfortable in the middle of people who laid claim to him but didn’t know him at all.

  A small group of Tim’s friends, who I vaguely recognised, sauntered up to me. The usual small talk pleasantries about the engagement and the party were exchanged, but they soon got around to what they had really wanted to know.

  “I know I’ve seen it all over the TV,” one said. “But are you really going out with Declan Tyler?”

  It really was that difficult to believe, it seemed.

  “If it’s on television, it must be true,” I said, forcefully cheerful.

  “Really?” number two asked.

  I sighed. “Yep.”

  They giggled, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I had the feeling they weren’t secret slashers of RPF let loose from the Internet for a night out.

  The guy with them, whose name I hazily remembered as being Brian, eyed me narrowly. “So are you responsible for the fact that his playing’s gone to shit?”

  Apparently I was Yoko-freaking-Ono now. “He had his knee injury long before I came along.”

  “Are you sure it’s not a groin injury?” girl number one giggled.

  I shook my head sadly. She was the dumbest thing on earth. “Yeah, that was funnier last week when they said it on The Footy Show, and even then it wasn’t that funny.”

  You would have thought they might have gotten the message after that, but they didn’t. They mustn’t have gotten enough out of the interviews we had done with the media or didn’t think we were asked the pertinent questions.

  Girl number two sized me up and asked slowly. “So, you know how Declan is like this really hot, good, footballer player?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard something about it,” I replied, hoping I looked as bored as I sounded.

  “And you’re like some guy in theatre or something.”

  “Film.”

  “Same thing.”

  Well, no, not at all. But I let that slide.

  “Does that make you, like, the woman?”

  You know, you kind of forget every now and again that people can be so dumb. Or if not dumb, just ignorant. And then you get slapped in the face with it, just to remind you. And I know you’re meant to turn the other cheek and try to be the helpful educator or whatever, to let them see in a kind way the utter stupidity that they spew, but it was beyond me tonight.

  “Are you for real?” I asked.

  “What?” she replied, her eyes wide.

  “Seriously, how old are you? You must be the same age, or round about, as my brother, right?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Okay. Then you’re old enough to have gained some life experience by now to know that was the stupidest fucking question you could have asked me. Maybe you should know what you’re talking about before you go shooting your mouth off.” With my cheeks burning and definitely no sense of class, I stormed into the house.

  But I could still hear her saying to the others, “Fags can be so bitchy.”

  Yeah. We sure can.

  Fran was still in the line for the loo, and I pushed through it to get to my room. I put on my coat, grabbed my bag, and left to push back through the line as I made my way out the front of the house. I heard Fran calling after me, but I ignored her. I also ignored Roger as I passed by the kitchen, where he had been waylaid by my mother.

  Out on the front lawn, I took a deep breath and ended up inhaling a mouthful of secondhand smoke. I turned around to see my father hiding away and sneaking a cigarette.

  “Dad?”

  “You caught me,” he admitted.

  “Hey, they’re your lungs,” I said.

  “I talked to your….” He trailed off, unable to say the word. “Declan. He seems like a good guy.”

  It must have killed him to say that about a footy player who wasn’t from Essendon.

  “Yeah. He is.”

  “He always seemed kind of stuck up in the press and in the games. But he’s not.”

  “No. He’s not.”

  Dad finally noticed my bag. “Are you going already?”

  This was the most we had spoken in quite a while, so I suddenly found myself not that eager to leave. “I was thinking about it.”

  “They haven’t served the cake. And either your brother or mother will make some speech that will embarrass us all.”

  “All the more reason to leave, then.”

  “Why do you think I’m hiding out here?” My father laughed, and began coughing.

  I tactfully avoided the smoking lecture, and I could sense he was grateful for it. “So why aren’t your friends leaving with you?” he asked.

  “I don’t think they knew I was going. I just had to get out.”

  “Why?”

  “Some of Tim’s idiot friends.”

  “What did they say?” Dad sprang up immediately, ready to go to my defence.

  Funny how family can be so funny about something themselves, but if anybody else showed it they got their dander up.

  “Nothing, really. I just wasn’t in the mood to hear that crap.”

  “You sound rattled. That’s not like you.”

  “Well, Declan’s in there and they’re all over him, which is fine. But I’m fair game, so they think they can ask me all the stuff they’re too scared to ask him.”

  “Like?”

  I sighed. I wasn’t even sure if my dad would understand. “They just asked me if I was the woman.”

  My dad was quiet. He cleared his throat. “Are you?”

  I couldn’t believe he was doing the exact same thing. My dad was usually gruff, but pretty smart. I would have thought he would know better. “Yes, Dad. I’m the woman. When we go home I hand Declan his pipe and slippers, put on my apron, and bake biscuits for him to take to training the next day.”

  “I’m only asking a question,” Dad said, sounding genuinely puzzled.

  “And it’s a dumb one. I’m a man, and he’s a man. We’re gay because we like men. Neither of us is ‘the woman’.”

  It was the most I had ever said to him about the issue since I had first come out. At least I hadn’t used the word “cock.” But I didn’t get to hear what his response would have been, because Fran came out of the house.

  “There you are,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Can you go and get Declan for me?” I asked. “I’m going.”

  “Roger’s already doing that,” she replied, wanting to ask me more but being restrained by the presence of my father.

  “See ya, Dad,” I said casually.

  “Bye, son,” he replied, equally casually.

  I began walking down the street to where Declan had parked his car. I knew it would be a few moments before Declan and Roger got out of the house and then say good-bye to my father, as they were infinitely more polite than I. And I found myself thinking of Declan’s father, and how his heart attack had come out of the blue, and how I was a prick to leave while being in a shit with him, because how would I feel if something happened to him? But my eyes stung, and my throat
was sore, the usual trademarks of someone upset trying to keep it all in. I leaned against Dec’s SUV and waited for them to join me.

  “ARE you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Dec murmured.

  We had just dropped Fran and Roger off. I had given Fran a short rundown when she had joined me at the car, but since then I had been pretty quiet.

  Declan pulled his shirt over his head, and as usual I couldn’t help but stare, glad that even after months of going out he could still have that effect on me. And be pissed off at myself that when I had this hot, kind, funny, patient, and smart man wanting to be part of my life I could still obsess over people who really shouldn’t even be a blip on my radar.

  “Was it the party?” Declan continued, turning down the covers and jumping into bed. “I thought it went pretty well myself.”

  I couldn’t help but snort derisively. “Of course it did. For you.”

  “What?”

  “Everyone was in awe of you. They wouldn’t dare say anything to you.”

  Annoyed with the fact that he left his pants and shirt lying on the floor, I scooped them up and put them on top of the chest of drawers—even though I was always guilty of doing the same thing myself.

  He scratched at the bottom of his lip. “I take it someone said something to you?”

  “Quite a few things.”

  “Will you stop doing that and get into bed?”

  I threw my clothes on top of his and did so. Declan tried to spoon into me, but I lay rigid.

  “What did they say to you?”

  “Nothing,” I murmured. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like it that you’re upset about something and you won’t tell me.”

  “Just, they got to me, and I hate they did.”

  “How did they?”

  “By insinuating that because you’re the big footballer man, I must be the woman.”

  He breathed deeply and tried unsuccessfully to bring me in closer to him again. “People can be fuckwits.”

  “They just don’t get it, I guess.”

  “You shouldn’t get upset, Simon.”