Tigerland

by Sean Kennedy

  I hated seeing him so pained about something, even if it had happened years ago and was long behind him. But on the other hand, he was finally talking and getting stuff off his chest. That could only be a good thing. “It’s good you had the strength to get out. Lots of people don’t.”

  “I like to think I have that much self-respect.”

  “You have a lot more than you think.”

  “Yeah, well it also helped that, after a while, I met you.”

  “Me? Help? You have to be kidding.” But I was more than happy to hear it. I guess my ego needed a bit of a boost every now and again as well.

  “You were impossible, and different to anything else I had known. You were real. And I knew you loved me, because you showed it in everything you did for me. The way you covered for me and sacrificed for me when I needed you to. Or not even needed, just wanted you to because it was easier for me. You did it because you were committed.”

  “I did it because I loved you.” Ugh, wrong tense. “Because I love you.”

  “And that’s why Greg could never compare to you, Simon. Not the other way round. And I could stay silent when he was crapping on about me. But when he started in on you….”

  “He only did that because he knew he could get a response out of you.”

  “I know. I fell for it anyway.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. I’ve made things worse.”

  “I threw Jasper Brunswick into a river. Well, that’s what everyone will say anyway. So as usual, we’re in this together.”

  “I know.” He smiled at me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Too right.”

  He still didn’t look entirely happy, even though he was smiling. “I just wonder, after everything that’s happened, if I’ve been doing it all wrong.”

  “Doing what wrong?”

  But he didn’t get to answer, because Abe and Roger turned the corner and found us.

  “We thought maybe something was up, you were taking so long,” Roger said.

  “No,” Dec said. “Everything’s fine.”

  Despite our talk, it didn’t seem like it was. Not yet, anyway.

  HAVING decided that, due to the antibiotics countering the toxic sludge of the Yarra, it didn’t seem I would be developing superpowers any time soon, Abe and Lisa went back to their apartment once we reached our building. Fran and Roger came up for the offered drinks, but I left them to strip out of my manky clothing and have a hot shower. I stayed in there far longer than I should have. The warm spray of water was intoxicating after the icy stream of a Melbourne river in autumn.

  As I got dressed into my oldest, warmest, scrappiest tracky daks and a hoodie that had also seen better days, I could hear the others talking in the lounge room, but not what they were actually saying. It sounded strangely tense, however, which was weird as I couldn’t really guess at how they had arrived at such a point.

  I sat close to the bedroom door, where the voices would echo more up the little hallway that acted as a sound tunnel—I had discovered this not that long after moving in and about to stumble in on an argument between Dec and his brother. Maggie ran over to join me, and I scratched her behind the ears while cocking my own to eavesdrop more efficiently.

  “You should be telling Simon this,” Fran was saying.

  “We talked about it a little in the hospital,” Dec replied. “Anyway, you asked me.”

  That seemed to stump Fran, and Dec continued on again.

  “I didn’t like myself when I was with Greg, because I always did what he wanted in the relationship. I guess I thought that would save it, or at least keep it going a little while longer. It had to stop, though.”

  Roger asked something, but I didn’t catch it.

  “You’re right. There was a period when Simon and I got together that I hated what I was doing because at times it felt like I was doing the same thing to him. It was probably why I could never really get mad at you when you brought it up. I knew you were right.”

  “Please don’t say that to him,” Fran said, trying to inject what seemed like much-needed humour. “He might start believing it, and then we’re all screwed.”

  “Simon’s not going to tell me,” Declan said. “He looks out for me. He always looks out for me, so he won’t tell me the full truth. So you have to.”

  “You’re just going to have to get it out of him yourself,” Roger said.

  “Don’t give me that,” Declan replied. “It’s never stopped you from jumping in between us before and giving your opinion.”

  Wow, that was harsh from Dec. Borderline bitchy, even. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so, because Fran was now jumping into the fray to defend her husband.

  I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to make things worse, which I often had a habit of doing even though I never intended to do so. That was me—I always had the best of intentions but always managed to fuck up. My ruined clothes, now tied in a plastic bag and ready to be thrown out, showed this. So I remained there, Maggie now in my lap, listening to my best friends and my partner tear shreds off each other.

  And then Roger said it. Of course it had to be Roger. My oldest, most faithful friend. Who I loved, but who also infuriated me more than anybody else. This was probably because he knew me the best; after all, he had the most experience with me.

  “Of course he’s upset, Dec. That fuckhead is saying anything he wants about the both of you, and you’re not doing a bloody thing about it! You made the decision that you were going to be all stoic and not stoop to his level, but you made that decision on Simon’s behalf as well. And he’ll go along with it, because he thinks it’s best for you. But you know what, it’s not best for him!”

  “I knew I fucked up,” Dec said, and he sounded so down I wanted to run out there and tell him to stop. But there was some ground being made here without me, and once again, look at the clothes on my bathroom floor. “How about you, Fran?”

  There was a long silence. When she spoke, she sounded remarkably calm in comparison to the two of them. “Simon loves you. And he’s stupid, because he makes a big song and dance about being all bitter and twisted, but we all know he isn’t. He knows we know that, but he keeps doing it anyway. He wants to make everything better for you, so he’ll agree to what you want.”

  “He did that when we first got together,” Dec agreed.

  “And he’s doing it now,” Roger reminded him.

  “But, Dec, he balances that by knowing how much you love him, and how happy you make him,” Fran said. “So it’s just the way it works. But you asked my opinion, and that’s it.”

  “Thank you,” Dec said, and I was surprised to hear it. It wouldn’t have been easy for him. It never is when people confirm something you were already thinking about yourself. “I just keep thinking of him in that waiting room, looking like a sorry drowned rat, feeling humiliated, and knowing that I put him through that.”

  “Dec,” Fran said gently. “He fell in the Yarra. He didn’t throw himself in it.”

  “But that’s what they’ll say tomorrow,” Dec said.

  I could hear Fran move. The jangling of her bracelet gave her away, and I could bet she was either moving to sit next to him or giving him a hug. “Well, there’s not much that can be done about that.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  I hoped Roger would add to the encouragement, and he didn’t disappoint. “You guys will get through it. Simon isn’t going anywhere. He’s too lazy, for a start.”

  “Speaking of,” Dec said, “I better go and see if he’s okay.”

  Almost sprung, had it not been for that announcement! I scooped Maggie up and put her on the bed, on my way to the bathroom. When Dec stuck his head in, I was pulling on a pair of socks.

  “Everything okay?”

  I surprised him by practically jumping into his arms and kissing him passionately.

  “Everything’s cool,” I said.

  And I believed
it. I had Dec and a bevy of wonderful friends on my side. Everything was cool.

  SECRETS, no matter how minor, always come out under cover of darkness. Just as I was heading into dreamland, Dec’s hand stroked my belly.

  “I had a bit of a disagreement with Fran and Roger earlier.”

  I decided that I wasn’t going to play dumb. “I heard what happened.”

  “It’s not as bad as you think. We’re not fighting. We’re not angry with each other.”

  “I know. I told you, I heard it.”

  “And?”

  “One of our problems”—I rolled over to face him—“and it’s really only a minor problem, not something that affects us for too long, is that we don’t tell each other initially what our problem is.”

  “That’s a lot of use of the word ‘problem’,” Dec replied.

  His thumb was now stroking my hip, and it felt too good for the seriousness of this conversation. “We then run to other people to try and guess how the other is feeling. Instead, we should just say it upfront.”

  “Then how come you don’t do that?”

  “Well, why don’t you?”

  He sighed. “I asked you first!”

  “Fine. Because I’m scared of upsetting you. When it gets to this point it’s because the extenuating circumstances are usually pretty severe, and I don’t want to add to it.”

  “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “The issue’s mutual, doofus.”

  “Okay, it is.”

  “And when we go to other people,” I continued, “they think they have a complete jigsaw puzzle between them when all they have are pieces. So they then make assumptions about what the puzzle is meant to look like.”

  “Why don’t they just look on the front of the box? That’s a really bad analogy.”

  “They don’t have the box, okay? They think they do. Just go along with me.”

  He gave a small smile, and I traced it with my fingertips. Gently at first, and then I poked the ends higher to make his smile wider. “Ow. Stop it.”

  I did. “Anyway, they make these assumptions. Maybe some of them are right. But some of them are wrong. And to find out, you have to ask the puzzle maker.”

  “Are you the puzzle maker?”

  “In this instance, yes.”

  “Okay. Puzzle maker, I have to ask you a question.”

  “Ask away.”

  He hmmed to himself, then admitted, “I’m not sure what the question is.”

  Exasperated, I poked him in the chest this time. “Fine, the analogy sucks. Just ask me what you want to know. I promise I’ll give you an honest answer.”

  “If Roger and I were trapped in a burning building, who would you rescue first?”

  “Fran.”

  “I guess that’s a given.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered and pulled him in to me, threading my leg in between his. “You. It would always be you.” It was what he needed to hear, no matter how ridiculous the question. I don’t think Dec even meant it seriously. But we’re all human, and sometimes we have to have these things spelt out for us.

  “Tell me what you really think about how I’m handling the whole Greg thing,” he said.

  Fine. He wanted honesty. “It’s great to be the good guy. But sometimes good guys get really fucked over, and they need to be heard.” I cradled his cheek in my hand, my thumb rasping against his stubble. “But I don’t need you to defend me. Sure, I hate what’s being said. But a lot of shit was said about you and me both when you were outed, and we survived that. This is nothing in comparison.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know. And you know I love you too. So fuck Heyward and Jasper. It’s you and me, baby. We’re survivors. Do I have to sing Destiny’s Child to you?”

  “Please don’t.”

  He had a point. The last time I sang to him was one karaoke night, when, sloshed to the eyebrows, I jumped on stage to sing a tortured (or torturous?) “Because the Night” to him. I like to think I would have outdone Patti Smith, but thankfully I didn’t remember a second of it, although Roger had captured it for posterity on his mobile. It turned out, when I watched it the next day, that I was no Patti Smith.

  He was still subdued. I thought we had leapt out of the frying pan and managed to miss the fire.

  But there was still tomorrow to get through.

  Chapter 16

  THE persistent ring of my mobile threatened to wake me up, but I was trying to resist.

  “Dec,” I whined. “If you really loved me, you’d pick that up.”

  I kicked my leg out to punctuate that request, but hit the doona instead.

  It was only Maggie and me in the bed.

  I almost knocked the mobile off the night stand as I picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Simon.”

  “Coby, it’s a Sunday morning. The building better be on fire, or else I’m hanging up.”

  “The building isn’t on fire, but you better not hang up!”

  Despite being annoyed, I was more awake now and prepared to be amiable in order to maintain friendly boss and employee relations. “What’s up?”

  Then I remembered, rather guiltily, that I hadn’t seen his film last night. “So, uh, congratulations on the screening.”

  “Results aren’t until next weekend, which you would have known if you had stuck around.”

  “Yeah, about that—”

  “It’s okay, Simon. I saw the papers this morning.”

  My belly instantly growled with agony. “Oh. Then you know why I wasn’t there. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not feeling the best this morning.”

  And I guess I now had it confirmed there was a new media blitz.

  “It’s okay, but that’s not what I’m calling about. Uh, I don’t know how to put this, but do you have any idea what Declan is doing right now?”

  This was a strange question, even from Coby, but I was still nonplussed. “He’s here, with me.”

  “Um, are you sure?”

  Now that he had made me aware of it, I couldn’t hear the shower running. There was no sound of movement from the kitchen or the lounge. And Maggie was in here with me. If Dec was up and about, she’d be pestering him for food or currently stuffing her face on what he had given her.

  “Coby,” I said, trying not to let worry seep into my tone, “stop being vague. What’s going on?”

  “It’s just, my friend Sunita, who’s a line producer for Before Breakfast, says that he just turned up there.”

  A new hot flush of panic was already engulfing me. “What?”

  “Dec knows the producer—”

  “Yeah, Catriona Cate. I’ve met her heaps of times.”

  “Well, apparently he showed up there wanting to go on for an interview.”

  “When?” I was now jumping out of bed as I spoke, pulling on my trakkies and a T-shirt before running through the lounge and searching for my shoes.

  “He wants on now.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” I wheezed as I crammed my feet into my shoes and headed for the door. “They won’t do that.”

  “If they want a scoop, they will. And if what Sunita says is true, and they’re freeing up part of the schedule to put him on, that must have been what he promised them.”

  I was shrugging into my jacket and grabbing my keys off the hook, but I stopped short. “A scoop?”

  “An exclusive response to the Heyward controversy.”

  I was expecting that, but I sagged against the door. “Oh, fuck.”

  “I know.”

  “Fuck fuck fuck!” I slammed the door behind me and ran down the hall towards the lift.

  I was in luck. The bell pinged; somebody was getting off on my floor right this minute.

  “Simon—”

  “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” I yelled as the doors opened and our neighbour Mrs. Gupti stepped out.

  “Good morning, Simon,” Mrs. Gupti said, her lips pursed together with disapproval at my la
nguage. But, really, she knew me by now and shouldn’t have expected any better. Besides, if what Dec said was true she thought I was a backstabber who called the cops on her.

  “Morning, Mrs. Gupti!” I yelled, giving her a huge smile as I leapt past her into the lift and pressed the button to close the doors.

  “How is Declan?” she called after me, but she was cut off by the doors sliding together over her question.

  “Mrs. Gupti?” Coby asked in my ear.

  “Yes.”

  “You should have said hi to her for me.”

  “I didn’t even know you knew her.”

  “I’ve seen her a few times around your building. She likes me.”

  She was probably sizing him up as a potential mate for Dec if I were out of the picture. At least until Heyward outed himself and she became part of the 67 percent of people polled by some News Limited hack paper that thought Dec and Heyward should get back together again.

  “You were very polite to her,” Coby said, amazed. “I didn’t know you could be that polite.”

  “Shut up, Coby. Did Sunita tell you when they were putting Dec on?”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Will I get there in time?”

  “They’re shafting the regular pet spot with Dr. Chris, which from what Sunita told me will make him unbearable to work with, as he has an ego bigger than—”

  “What time, Coby?”

  A bit miffed, he sighed. “At 8:42.”

  “That’s very precise.” My stomach was dropping, and it wasn’t just from the gravity of travelling downwards in a very fast lift.

  “That’s live television for you. Everything’s planned to the second.”

  “Except for today,” I said. “I bet you they weren’t expecting this.”

  I know I certainly wasn’t.

  “Good luck, Simon.”

  “Coby, before you go—”

  “What?” I could tell he was expecting me to ask for some favour, something that went above and beyond the parameters of his job description.