by Sean Kennedy
Micah Johnson Goes West
By Sean Kennedy
Sequel to The Ongoing Reformation of Micah Johnson
Get Out: Book Two
On the outside, Micah Johnson seems to have everything. He is proving his worth on the field during his rookie year with his new professional football team, the Fremantle Dockers, but his personal life is a mess. Homesick, three thousand kilometres away from his family and friends on the other side of Australia, Micah isn’t coping. He’s using casual sex, alcohol, and drugs as crutches since he doesn’t feel comfortable approaching his foster family with his problems, and he’s left with nowhere to turn. It isn’t until he experiences a health scare and a friend is rocked by a personal tragedy that Micah realises he does have the strength to succeed at a new life in the West—but he has to learn to ask for help.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part Two
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
From the Reach Out, 25 June 2016
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
From The Reach Out, 5 July 2016
Epilogue
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Copyright
For Perth. You’re no Melbourne, but you’re okay.
Prologue
MICAH JOHNSON hadn’t wanted anybody to come and see him off at the airport. It would have been too much. It probably would have ended with him crying and telling his parents not to let him go as if he was eight years old, not eighteen.
But it was too late for that. There was nothing his parents could have done about it, anyway.
It’s not like Micah couldn’t have refused the draft, but everybody—his parents, Joanne and Rick; his little brother, Alex; his mentor, Declan Tyler—knew he would be stupid to do it as he had been working towards this his whole life. His dream had been made a reality, and he was now dreading it.
Micah sat, all alone, despite being surrounded by people. The plane to Perth was fully booked out, and everybody else looked happy to be going there. They were going home, or on holiday, or maybe just going for a short business trip knowing they would be going back to Melbourne soon.
For Micah, it wasn’t so simple.
Perth, a place he had never been to, had been little more to him than the home of the West Coast Eagles and the Fremantle Dockers, and vaguely remembered as somewhere that was blisteringly hot in the summer and always about fifteen degrees hotter than Melbourne—even in winter—whenever he watched the weather report.
Now it was his home. Micah had been drafted by the Fremantle Dockers. He had been given one day between getting drafted and having to move to Perth in order to start training with his new team. He had even used his new Dockers bag as his hand luggage because he didn’t have any of his own. He had never allowed himself to think he was going to have to move to the opposite side of the country; he’d been so positive he would be drafted by a Victorian team.
But despite that belief, he was now going to be meeting his new “foster family” at the other end of his plane ride. It was policy now with most teams that interstate recruits had to live with a family associated with their club in some way to try and help them adjust to their new city, and their new life as an official Australian Football League player.
For Micah, it wasn’t just any family. He was actually going to live with another Dockers player. Sam Mitchell was often talked up as being future captain material. He still lived with his parents, although in a house he himself had bought. Sam and his girlfriend, Maia, had their own “granny flat” out in the backyard, while his parents and his younger brother lived in the main house, where a room was waiting for Micah. Apparently they had been ready to take on any rookie, but were “thrilled” to be getting Micah. Whatever that meant.
Micah had been told all of this in a series of rushed phone calls on Saturday night, when he was still moping around the house trying not to breathe too heavy in case it started his mother crying again. All of his family were upset, and little was said when they picked over their final dinner together.
“Are you going to see Kyle again?” his mother asked.
He lied and said he wasn’t. But he had already made plans to sneak out and see his boyfriend one last time. Micah knew he didn’t need to lie, but he didn’t want his family to think Kyle was more important than them when it came to his final hours in Melbourne. Better to let them sleep thinking he was still in his bed, envisioning what his new life was going to be like.
But he couldn’t have let things go with Kyle, not after the brief time they had together when his draft details had been announced. They hadn’t even known what to say to each other, although they knew what was going to happen. They had skirted around the issue before. This was it. They were history already. A long-distance relationship was not in the cards at this point in their lives, and they both knew it.
Micah’s parents had lingered in the doorway when they said good night to him, not wanting to break the connection. When he was sure everybody was asleep Micah opened his window and jumped out, grabbed his bike, and rode the eight kilometres to Kyle’s house.
It was in darkness, which meant the formidable Coach Marks, Kyle’s father and a sometimes nemesis of Micah’s at various training camps, had to be asleep.
Micah texted Kyle that he was outside, and a moment later the window to his room slid open.
Once Micah was inside, breathless, facing Kyle, there wasn’t much more to be said.
Afterwards Micah lay in Kyle’s bed, wrapped up in the other boy. They were so close it was like they had fused together.
“Was this a mistake?” Micah tried to keep the fear out of his voice. He was used to making mistakes. He didn’t want to add Kyle to that very long list.
“Not a mistake,” Kyle concurred. “But it makes me even sadder.”
“Me too. Maybe we shouldn’t have met tonight.”
“You mean early morning.” Kyle kissed him. “But then we wouldn’t have had this.”
Even though he knew it was impossible, Micah wanted to extract every promise he could out of Kyle: that they could still be together somehow, that they would wait for one another, that they could still make it work. He had to actually bite down on his tongue to stop it from blurting out.
“I have a present for you,” Kyle said, stopping him without even knowing it. Kyle rummaged under his bed and presented something small and flat, amateurishly wrapped.
“What is it?”
“Open it, doofus, and find out.”
“But I didn’t get you anything.”
“You gave me what I wanted.”
Micah had to busy himself unwrapping the gift to avoid Kyle’s intense gaze.
It had been so long since he’d seen one, he’d almost forgotten they existed. “It’s a CD. A CD single?” Micah looked at it as if it had been unearthed next to a tyrannosaur skeleton. “How old school.”
“I thought it was pretty apt, considering where you’re going,” Kyle told him.
“‘Go West,’” Micah said, looking at the Pet Shop Boys on the cover. Their bizarre domed
hats didn’t give him much hope as to the quality of their music.
“You can’t tell me you don’t know who they are!”
“Not really.”
“You can’t really tell me, or you don’t know?”
“I don’t know.”
Incredulous, Kyle laughed. “Not even the song?”
“Um, nope.”
“It’s, like, the gay anthem, Micah. It’s a song full of hope, of finding your place, but it’s bittersweet because it’s only a dream at that point of time for them.”
“That’s actually really depressing.”
“I know, right?”
“I guess it fits, though.” Micah turned it over, examining the back. “You think I’m going to find my place in Perth?”
“Who knows? But you’ll find your place in the AFL. That’s the most important thing.” Kyle lurched over him and scrabbled around on his bedside table for his iPod. “Here, listen.”
Micah stared into Kyle’s eyes as he placed one earbud in Micah’s ear, and the other in his own. Now they truly were fused together as the music started pumping. Disco. Ugh. But then Micah started listening to the lyrics.
“You’re crying.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Micah sniffed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you cry.”
“I would have cried eventually, song or no song,” Micah admitted.
Kyle’s response was to kiss his tears while Micah got lost in the lyrics again, envisioning a land that was peaceful, where you could love anybody with freedom, and life was better for those who had experienced prejudice before.
When Kyle had dozed off, Micah got dressed and was about to leave via the window again when he was stopped by Kyle speaking sleepily.
“I know we’ve broken up, but we’ll stay in contact, won’t we?”
“Sure,” Micah said, although he wondered how long that would last. Kyle was probably his first—but short, oh so painfully short—love, but he was realistic enough to know it wouldn’t last. It didn’t mean some time in the future they couldn’t be friends, or hopefully even more… but it was best not to think about it. Best not to hope.
“Are you still going to the airport alone? Because I would like to see you off.”
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?”
“Arsehole.” But Kyle cracked a grin, even if it wasn’t real.
“I have to do it alone,” Micah said. “It’s the best way. For me.”
“Give us a kiss,” Kyle said. He didn’t specify it would be the last one.
Micah crawled over him and obliged. This time he felt Kyle’s tears, and he wiped them away with his thumb.
He didn’t say good-bye, and neither did Kyle.
Out of sight, Micah pressed his thumb against his lips, tasting Kyle for the last time.
Then he picked up his bike and rode home to sneak back into bed before his parents woke up and found him gone.
Later that morning he ripped the CD to his iPod. He could have just bought it off iTunes directly, or even downloaded it from some torrent. But he wanted the version Kyle gave him, and even though he was meant to be packing light, the CD found its way into his suitcase.
“You not going to see Kyle today?” his father asked again, over breakfast.
Micah shook his head, and swallowed his cereal. “We… uh, broke up yesterday.”
He was gratified to see both of his parents look upset on his behalf, and he quickly moved to assuage their sorrow. “It’s okay. We knew it would happen if I ended up in another state.”
“Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt,” Joanne said, rubbing her hand through his hair.
“No worse than anything else right now,” Micah said offhandedly, and he caught the look his parents gave each other. “But it’ll pass.”
There had been one last-minute argument about them coming to the airport, and it was Alex who dug his heels in the most.
“I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” he said, hardly able to meet Micah’s eyes.
Micah crouched down so his brother would have to look at him. “Do you know what the good thing is about having to play interstate?”
“No, what?”
“It means I have to fly around the country for a lot of games. Once the season starts, I’ll be back so often you’ll get sick of me again.”
“That won’t happen,” Alex said.
“It will, and I’ll remind you of this moment.”
Declan and his partner, Simon Murray, popped around for a quick coffee, and it was one more difficult good-bye. How could Micah even begin to thank Dec, the man who had got him to this point, against all the odds, against every self-destructive machination Micah had thrown in his way to try and deny himself any kind of future playing for the AFL?
All he could do was hug him. And he was gratified when Dec held him tight and said, “You’ll be fine, Micah. You’re ready for this. And you’ll be brilliant.”
“Let me hug him, Henry Higgins,” Simon said, pushing his partner aside. As he hugged Micah he said, “That’s a reference to a play. We could rename it My Fair Micah.”
“We studied Pygmalion in lit last year, Simon.”
“See? Who said you didn’t learn anything in school?”
Micah could overhear them talking with his parents at the front door as they were leaving.
“Don’t worry,” Dec said. “I’ll be over there for away games, so I can check up on him then as well.”
And although Micah felt that he should be a little resentful with Dec thinking he needed to be “checked up” on, he was also pleased that there were people out there who cared so much for him.
The time came for him to slip away. The taxi was honking from the driveway, and Micah was rushed through his last good-byes with the Johnson clan. He wanted to yell I’ve changed my mind, please come and see me off, but he clamped it down. Pull the Band-Aid off in one quick yank, rather than prolong the pain.
He rode to the airport in silence. The skies were dark, threatening a summer storm, but no rain had fallen yet. The gods were saving that for takeoff, so his last views of Melbourne were obscured. Micah pulled his iPod out of his pocket, hit play, and closed his eyes.
Go West.
IT WAS like he had arrived in a different country, not another state. Unlike Melbourne’s slate heavens, Perth’s skies were blindingly blue. He couldn’t stare into them for too long; his eyes began to burn. As they flew into the city, Micah was astounded by how flat everything looked. And the heat, even up here, baked the windows relentlessly. Micah retreated as far as he could in the minuscule space allotted to him in his seat and stuck his head directly under the small aircon nozzle. How the hell would he be able to train in this weather? How would a Melbourne boy survive in the desert?
That’s what Perth was—a tiny city stuck on the edge of a desert and dry roasting in the hot winds that blew in from it.
Everybody else chattered excitedly as they disembarked. Micah moved through the tight tunnel in their wake, offering no resistance but being dragged along regardless. The doors to the public area of the terminal whooshed open and ushered them out, closing behind them like a guillotine. Families started being reunited, friends greeted, and tourists rushed off to meet their buses. Micah stood like a stunned mullet but saw a sign with his name on it.
There was his new “family.”
He felt a bit embarrassed they were holding a sign and standing out amongst the rest of the crowd, especially as they already knew what he looked like. And Sam Mitchell couldn’t fail to be seen in the mob as he was surrounded by people wanting his autograph.
The rest of the Mitchells were looking at him expectantly, but there was a “Welcome!” scrawled above his name. They seemed friendly enough, except for the younger brother who seemed to have a scowl permanently etched upon his features. But they weren’t his family. They were going to help him start a new life, yet all he wanted to do was turn on his heel and run towards the booking agents and get
another flight home—to where his real family was.
It was too late. Sam stepped forward, and wow, he looked a lot bigger than he did on television when watching the Dockers play. Usually it was the other way around—in real life you looked smaller. To Micah’s surprise, he hugged him.
“Good to have you here, Micah.”
Strangely enough, Micah felt a little more at ease. But he still wondered how long it would last as the rest of the Mitchells stepped forward to welcome him to their city, their football team, and their clan.
Part One
From the Reach Out, 16 January 2016
Out and About With Jasper Brunswick
EXCLUSIVE—Jasper talks to future, and OUT, AFL star Micah Johnson
FIRST UP, let me declare that I know Micah personally. That’s probably why I have the first interview with him of the year. It was conducted via Skype; as we all know, Micah was drafted by the Fremantle Dockers and has had to relocate to the second most isolated city in the world. Let’s find out what he thinks about that.
JASPER: Good afternoon, Micah.
MICAH: Hey, Jasper.
JASPER: You’ve been living in Perth for over a month now, and you’ve pretty much kept out of the limelight. Was that by choice, or by club decree?
MICAH: Maybe a little of both? I’m just trying to keep my head down and adjust to training, a new team, and a new city. It’s been a bit overwhelming.
JASPER: How are you finding Perth in comparison to Melbourne?
MICAH: Well… it’s different. The weather, especially. It’s so fucking hot here. And it never ends. I’m really having a hard time adjusting to it. We’re ramping up training at the moment for the preseason and the NAB Challenge but it’s been like high thirties every day. And everyone here thinks it’s funny to tell me that we haven’t even seen the worst of it, that February is the worst month for summer.
JASPER: Lots of ice packs, huh?
MICAH: Training in Antarctica would be nice.
JASPER: But besides the weather, how else are you settling in? I know it was hard for you, especially as you had to break up with your boyfriend.
