by Sean Kennedy
In happier times the caption read. What a fucking cliché.
Because obviously Dec is depressed as fuck now that he’s with me. I was half wishing Newspoll would do a survey asking if Dec and Heyward should get together, just so I could gauge public opinion on how much they still hated me. It used to be because I apparently made Declan Tyler, God of Football, gay (if only they had known about Heyward then!), and now it seemed they thought me responsible for breaking up the gay glamour couple of the AFL. Oh, what could have been!
Here is an exclusive excerpt from OUT ON THE FIELD, co-authored with Jasper Brunswick and available next month:
Greg had no reason to suspect Declan’s signing with the Tasmanian Devils would affect their relationship. They both seemed committed to one another, despite the problems that would come with maintaining a long-distance partnership—especially one hidden from most people who knew them. He had every intention of staying committed, but found it hard to watch Declan as he struggled with injury and depression from a result of being unable to play to his full potential. When Declan first called with news from Hobart that their relationship was over, Greg thought it was to do with his sports woes, not the fact he was now seeing somebody else.
Ooh, who could that be?
I wondered how much effort Heyward actually had to put into writing his own book, as it seemed to mainly be biography written by Jasper Brunswick with interspersed thoughts written by Heyward (and most likely heavily rewritten or ghosted by his “co-author” anyway). I was starting to think Heyward’s debut in the publishing world had about as much personal sweat from him as Paris Hilton’s debut “novel” did.
It was one of those funny moments, when you’re thinking of somebody and the phone rings, and it’s that very person on the line because they’ve been thinking of you too.
Declan was meant to be coming up to Melbourne that weekend, even though he wouldn’t be playing for the Devils’ away game. As soon as I heard his voice I hoped he wasn’t going to be bailing out like he had lately. Even the times he had been up he had acted distant and made excuses to get out of seeing me.
But I had no idea, no indication that he was going to say what he did next.
“I can’t think of any way to say this,” he began. “But I’m just going to have to be blunt. I’m seeing somebody else. And I have been for a while.”
Was this Dec or some paint by numbers bad boyfriend at the beginning of a Katherine Heigl movie?
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had thought everything was fine between us, despite Dec’s unhappiness with his injuries. But instead of being angry, all I could ask was “Who is he?”
His answer was without hesitation, and also without seeming remorseful. “You wouldn’t know him. He’s not in the game.”
“I don’t care. Who is he?”
“His name is Simon. He works in film.”
I could picture him already. Smug, conceited, far too full of his own opinions. He would probably talk too much, but none of it would make sense.
There. There was proof Jasper Brunswick was writing Heyward’s own words. It was everything Jasper Brunswick had ever said to my face. And now he had gotten it in print for everyone to read. Well, at least everyone who read self-serving factually inaccurate sport star autobiographies.
“How did this happen?” I finally asked.
“I met him at a party. It just went on from there.”
I tried getting more information out of him, but his responses were brief and didn’t allow for much rebuttal. In his mind I was already history, and this was just one thing he had to do before he could forget about me entirely.
Definitely lazy writing. I mean, they couldn’t even be bothered inventing a turgid breakup scene between Heyward and Dec. No “she is my heart, she is my soul!” as Heathcliff opined about Cathy, beating his fists against a tree in a thunderstorm? No ripping of his T-shirt and screaming out Declan’s name in the street outside his apartment like Stanley Kowalski? He just wasn’t trying hard enough.
Everything I would learn about Simon Murray would be through the media, when his inability to keep his relationship with Declan a secret resulted in their spectacular outing a few months later.
What? It was my fault? Granted, Dec and I had thrown caution to the wind in the gardens of the St Vincent’s Hospital, but it had been borne of a moment where caution had to be disregarded in order to be a real couple allowed to show real affection and to comfort your partner during a traumatic event. Neither of us planned to be outed in such a way, but it could hardly be said to be my fault.
But it niggled me. And I knew that was because I had always felt guilty about it. Dec had been the one to kiss me, but I had always felt that on some level I had pushed him into it. I had come to the hospital when his family didn’t even know I existed, and although I had stayed out of their sight my mere presence there was the catalyst for why we ended up in the papers.
Yes, I have a major guilt complex. But we all do when it comes to the people we love. I knew Dec had a major one now, even though he wasn’t dealing with it in the best way. It seems all humans ever do is muddle through and hope to have a rest period before the next obstacle comes along. It’s the love that keeps us going, whether it’s a partner, or your family, or your friends who are also your family. If we didn’t have that love, anything else keeping you running will eventually burn out, and I wondered what Heyward would have to sustain him when the attention began to wane.
Ugh, there I was feeling sorry for him again. Plus, I was having too many philosophical thoughts when I didn’t have enough coffee in my system to process them properly.
This next excerpt deals with the time where Declan created a stir by bringing Simon Murray as his date to the Brownlows:
In the lead up to the Brownlow Medal ceremony, the Melbourne sporting community had one question on their mind, and it wasn’t who was going to take the medal home that evening. It was whether Declan Tyler, one of the contenders, would bring Simon Murray as his partner—making history as the first out gay couple to hit the blue carpet.
I liked that sly little dig from Jasper: “the first out gay couple,” because there would have been one ceremony where Dec and Heyward were there “together”—except they weren’t really, as they both took dates and Heyward made an effort to keep his distance away from Dec so nobody could ever guess the truth behind their “acquaintanceship.” In fact, it was surprising that, the night I attended with Dec, Heyward even approached him, as he would have been scared that people might think he was gay by association.
Dec and I used to talk about coming out sometimes, in the bedroom where it seemed to be the only safe place to talk about it.
I think I just vomited in my mouth a little bit.
It was something we would toy with, thinking that if we did it together it would be easier—there would be safety and strength in numbers. We would also be smashing stereotypes, as at that time we were both at the top of our game, among the best players that season in all of the teams in the AFL.
Uh, no. Heyward was a good player, but not one of the best. And Dec was one of the best, if not in the top three before injury felled him for a while. I was starting to think that Heyward’s world differed so much from reality that he must see pink grass and brown skies.
It was a dream, and not one I think either of us was ready for, seeing not even our families knew about us. In fact, the only people who knew about us were Abe Ford and his girlfriend at the time, Lisa, and I wasn’t even happy about them being in the loop.
Hang on a minute, girlfriend at the time? The whole chronology of the time this book was written was starting to confuse me. Abe and Lisa had kept their whole breakup so quiet that very few people knew about it, and those of us “in the loop” were still confused about their current status, but Jasper and Heyward seemed to have an insight unavailable to most. But I couldn’t dwell on that too much as I was already becoming paranoid enough without starting to think that so
meone on the “inside” was feeding our enemies information. Besides, if the book was started a while back, it would have been public knowledge that Abe and Lisa had separated.
One thing I was pleased about were the little snippets of the true Heyward that showed, like the control freak who wanted everything his own way and managed to even manipulate Dec. “I wasn’t even happy about them being in the loop.” Fuck Dec having people he could be open and fully himself with!
I just hoped the book-buying public would be able to read between the lines and see that.
It was not me that Dec would be doing that with. Seeing him with Simon Murray at the Brownlow that night only made me even warier about coming out, when I saw the attention that was focused upon them. It had also been affected by seeing Dec’s performances on the field start to suffer when in-game sledging caused him to lose his cool and have a few barneys with players from other teams.
And not only just other teams. Word was spreading that there was conflict within the Devils themselves, as some team members were unhappy with Dec’s sexuality and the attention it brought them as a whole. Being known as “the nancy team” among the old-school AFL members made some of them act out against Dec, and call his captaincy into disrepute.
It also cost Dec his Brownlow. Everybody knew the medal should have been his that night, but internal politicking, along with the fact he had some biff on the field, caused him to lose it. You could hardly give “best and fairest” status to a man who would swing at you if you made fun of his boyfriend.
That was enough. I slammed the magazine shut, forgetting that Heyward’s face would peer up at me again as I did so. Then it was flung into the bin, and I briefly considered setting fire to it and salting the ground afterwards. But having the fire alarms go off and evacuation procedures initiated would have been hard to explain to the bosses.
There was a knock at the door, and Coby stuck his head in. “Is it safe to approach you, boss?”
I sighed and waved him in.
“Was it that bad?” he asked, sitting before me.
“Coby, you read it, didn’t you?”
He sagged further into the chair. “Yes. I just didn’t want to have to describe it to you before you did.”
“Fair enough. It sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it?”
Coby slowly nodded. “But we know it isn’t like that.”
“Well, technically, you don’t.” After all, Coby had never been around when Dec and I met.
“No. But I know you and Dec. And I know you wouldn’t act like that.”
“Thanks. I just wish everybody else knew that.”
“Does it really matter that they don’t?” Coby asked.
I stared down at the bin, where the magazine had unfurled itself so that Heyward could stare up at me again. “It would be nice if it didn’t. But we all know it does.”
“It won’t affect you and Dec, though. Or the people you care about.”
It was true, but it was also easy to say.
He must have read that in my silence. “Of course, I really have no idea what it feels like.”
“It feels like you’re helpless and useless,” I told him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. How many calls from the media have we had today?”
“Seven.”
“Already?”
“Yep. You’d think they’d get tired of hearing no comment and he won’t speak to you but it hasn’t stopped them ever since Heyward came out.”
I rubbed my hands over my face to try and get some feeling back into it. The numbness was disturbing.
“You shouldn’t have come into work today,” Coby said.
“Well, I couldn’t be sick today, but well enough to party at Midsumma tomorrow, could I?”
Coby tried not to look too hopeful. “You’re still coming?”
“I’m not going to let that bastard stop me from doing anything.”
Coby threw himself across the desk and awkwardly hugged me around the shoulders. “You’re the best. And I know that it’s really selfish of me to be glad that you’re coming when it’s probably the last thing you want to do—”
“Like I said, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of thinking he’s scaring me off.”
My mobile rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket to make sure who it was before I answered. It was our home phone number, which was odd as Dec should have been at work by now.
Coby instantly guessed who it was. “I’ll leave you to it.”
I waited until he was gone before picking up. “Hey, you.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing at home?”
“I got a little sidetracked.”
“Good or bad sidetracked?” I already had my suspicions.
“Does it really need to be said?”
“Oh.”
“Well?” Dec asked impatiently. “Have you seen it?”
There was no getting around this now. “Coby bought a copy, and I pinched it off him. You didn’t go downstairs and buy one, did you?”
“I didn’t have to. Mrs. Gupti brought one around just after you left.”
“Of course she did,” I fumed. “Why on earth would she do that?”
“She was very nice about it, actually. She said we might want to see it.”
“That woman’s always hated me.”
“You’re paranoid,” Dec said, as gently as he possibly could.
“No, I’m not. Ever since she thought I called the cops out on her when she had that housewarming party.”
“It was a grave injustice,” Dec said, his tone changing now into one not unlike a voiceover for a movie preview probably involving fresh out of law school lawyers and their mob clients.
“Don’t make fun of me! I was the one practically hanging out our door hoping for an invite. The food smelled so good, and I was hoping there might be some impromptu Bollywood number we could join in on.”
“Have you ever thought maybe she dislikes you because you think of her as a walking stereotype?”
I knew it! “So she does hate me!”
“No, she d—” Dec sighed, realising he had been caught up in my delusion. “Anyway—”
“She probably feels sorry for you because I supposedly stole you away from the love of your life. Maybe she’s hoping that article will make you come to your senses.”
“She does not.”
“Did she also show up with a present of packing boxes, just in case?”
“Simon….”
“Maybe next time she’ll bring over Heyward wrapped in a nice big bow. And nothing else.”
“Now you’re making me sick.”
“Obviously you weren’t at the time, or else you wouldn’t have slept with him.”
I knew I was blundering across the minefield with that one, and I waited for my leg to be blown off. Luckily, Dec must have been counting to ten in his head, remembering that often when I said stupid things it was because I was covering up my own hurt or blah blah blah insert some Oprah bullshit here.
The silence lasted a bit too long. “Uh, Dec?”
Finally, he answered. “Greg Heyward is not the love of my life. And if you don’t shut up, you won’t be either.”
Relieved, I continued on through the minefield, hoping I would reach the other side unscathed. “That is so romantic, Declan Tyler. You gave me the moon, the stars, and the half-insulting compliments.”
“Oh, frig, you’re in a right mood.”
“Because I’ve moved on from bitter and twisted to bitter and flippant. Everybody better stay out of my way because I’m steamrollering my way through this town, powered on snark.”
“And Melbourne was left in a pile of rubble,” Dec said in his preview voiceover again.
“Damn right,” I said. “If I’m going down, I’m taking everybody with me.”
“I worry about you.”
“Want to meet me for lunch?”
Surprisingly, he did. He was a keeper.
�
�MY MUM thinks you’re about to leave me.”
I almost choked on my pizza. “What?”
We were sitting in my office, sprawled on the couch, not wanting to step into the outside world. Luckily having an assistant was great for these types of situations, as you could make them run down to the one dollar slice store and pick you up lunch.
“She said, and I quote, ‘He has to put up with so much. One day he might just not be able to take it anymore.’”
“Wow, does she not know what you have to put up with from me?”
“That’s what I said!”
We both laughed, although Dec a little more than me.
“I know what she meant, though.” Dec stared at his slice of Hawaiian as if it was something he had never seen before.
I didn’t want to go through this same old argument again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.”
“Unless you’re coming with me.”
“Even better.”
I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes when his arm came down around my shoulder. “Yeah. It sounds pretty good to me too.”
Fourth Quarter
Chapter 14
OVERWROUGHT parental issues aside, we managed to skirt through the rest of the day avoiding the media except for a brief skirmish outside our car park door again.
“This is getting boring,” I told Dec.
“I agree.”
Our Friday night was spent partying, if by “partying” you mean “having to talk to everybody on the phone and convince your mother-in-law you’re not about to do a midnight run on her golden child.”
“Do you think I seem that flighty to your family?” I asked Dec after I got off the phone to his mum.
