Tigers on the Run

by Sean Kennedy

  “That’s what ‘terminated his employment’ means, yes.”

  “You can’t let him quit,” Fran said to me.

  “I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “That’s not exactly true.” Dec sat opposite us in one of the armchairs.

  When I said I was past it, I had absolutely had it. “Will you stop taking everyone’s side except mine?”

  Silence reigned.

  “I might just go make coffee,” Fran said. “Roger?”

  “White with one, please,” her husband replied.

  She whacked him on the shoulder. “I need a hand.”

  Roger twigged. “Oh. Of course. It’s, um, a two-handed kettle. Not that Fran doesn’t have two hands, but….”

  He couldn’t even think of a plausible ending to that sentence, and with that they practically ran out of the room. Their kids were left to fend with their two very emotional guncles.

  Declan sat with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. “When am I ever not on your side?”

  “Because you make excuses for everybody else, except me.”

  “Oh believe me, I make plenty of excuses for you.” There was an edge to his voice that was extremely unpleasant to hear.

  “The whole time since Jasper Brunswick popped up again, you’ve taken his side, you’ve taken Coby’s side—”

  “You’ve forgotten I saw Jasper and I told him—”

  “Once! But to everyone else, you make out like it’s my fault.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it.”

  I stood up. “Well, it’s obvious you’re not listening to me.”

  He stared at the crib, not looking at me either.

  “Fine.” I left the lounge and joined the others in the kitchen.

  Roger and Fran were standing over the boiling kettle, and they tried not to look too concerned as I threw myself down at the table.

  “What’s going on?” Fran asked.

  “Jasper wrote an article about Micah, he and Coby broke up, Coby quit, and it’s all my fault. As per fucking usual.”

  “Coby and Jasper broke up?” Roger asked. “Wow. Could not see that coming.”

  Roger was rarely bitchy. I could have hugged him.

  “How’s it your fault?” Fran poured me a glass of wine from the bottle sitting on their counter, and I took it gratefully.

  “I should have chased after Coby and made a big show of wanting him to stay.”

  “You didn’t?” Fran asked.

  I could feel her judgement now joining Dec’s to bear down upon me. “No. I’m not his boyfriend. I’m his boss. He wants to quit, he can fucking quit.”

  “He’s also your friend.”

  “He hasn’t been lately.”

  Fran sighed. “I really understand why you’re mad. I would be too. But you can’t change anything about it. You should make up with Coby, for one, because he’s your friend. And two, the sad fact is, he’s probably going to get back with Jasper anyway. So you’re just going to have to deal.”

  “You really reckon he’ll get back with Jasper? Even with what he does, all the time?”

  “Most likely. And if you want both your work life and your personal life to succeed, you’re going to have to make it right.”

  “She’s right,” Roger added.

  I made a face at him. “Of course you’re going to say that.”

  “Yeah,” Roger said, nodding, “but I’ll also say this: that guy sitting alone in our lounge room at the moment is your biggest fan and supporter. He always thinks of you. He thinks of everyone. We wouldn’t even have Georgie and Frankie if it wasn’t for his help.”

  Fran kissed him with a resounding smack, and Roger actually blushed.

  “So, go out there,” Roger continued, holding Fran closely, “and talk to him, and don’t let this affect you guys any more than it already has.”

  I leaned in and echoed Fran’s smack. Roger laughed, and Fran waved me off.

  But I found the lounge room empty when I entered it, and the car was no longer in their driveway. Declan had left me here, without saying anything.

  He had fucking run again. Story of our lives.

  AND IT was yet another thing to add to the (long, very long) list of what was my fault. Roger and Fran looked more concerned than I hoped they would, after I told them of Dec’s disappearance. They couldn’t even give any words of consolation that didn’t sound like a lie, and rather than accept their offers of a lift home, I caught a taxi.

  Dec wasn’t there. I curled up on our bed with Maggie at my feet, and even though I didn’t want to, I had to call Dec’s mum after his phone kept going to voice mail.

  “No, honey, he didn’t drop in here,” Rae said, sounding concerned. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.” It was scary I could lie so well. “Just I thought he’d be home by now, and I can’t get hold of him. Maybe he’s dropped in to see Maeve or Derek or somebody.”

  “It’s either that, or he’s working late. Or maybe he’s driving.” She obviously felt a range of possibilities would ease my mind somewhat. “But if he turns up here, I’ll tell him to call you.”

  “Thanks, Rae.”

  “Don’t be such a worrywart, Simon.”

  Easier said than done.

  Declan had had a habit of running when he couldn’t deal with things, and I guessed this was another of those times. Abe and Lisa hadn’t heard from him, as I called them next assuming they would be the most likely port of call in a storm. They were immediately suspicious, but I fobbed them off by suggesting he was probably in a meeting I had forgotten about. Working in the industries we did, it wasn’t that far-fetched.

  But I was worried.

  I poured myself another glass of wine (I had polished off Fran and Roger’s bottle before I left their house) and settled on the couch with both my mobile and the landline beside me. As the hours dragged on, my worry grew. I was finally jerked awake at half-eleven by a text coming through.

  Abe and Lisa told me you rang. Now having drinks with them. Might just stay here tonight.

  I had to restrain myself from texting back something that would inflame the situation further. Like “yeah, I guess it would be too hard to get back in the elevator and ride four floors home.”

  Instead, I just replied okay, see you in the morning.

  I debated whether to add xxx at the end, but I was too pissed off to give him my kisses. Instead I finished the bottle of wine and moved back to the bedroom.

  AT THREE in the morning, I was wakened by Dec moving on his side of the bed. I could hear his pants slide to the floor, and his shirt hitting the chair. He wasn’t even bothering to fold them as he usually did, so he was probably pissed.

  But when I switched on the light I could instantly see he was pretty sober.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I thought you weren’t coming home?”

  “I was stupid. And mad.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “You’re not going to get mad? Yell at me?”

  “What’s the point? You were pissed; you had a right to be. But it was shitty to make me worry about you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. That’s why I’m here. It was dumb to think I should stay at Abe’s.”

  “It was dumb to leave Fran and Roger’s.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, that too. So now I’ve pissed you off.”

  “It was a tad melodramatic.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Shit, you think it was melodramatic? I really am in trouble, then.”

  Although I tried not to, I laughed.

  He kissed me. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve already said that. And I’m sorry for saying you never take my side.”

  “Yeah, that pretty much shat me off.”

  “I know.”

  “And I was very upset.”

  “You know, you could have said that without running away.” />
  “I know. But I needed fresh air. And then I found myself driving to Micah’s house.”

  New development! “So, you were pissed off at me, and rather than talk to me, you decided to look for Micah and talk to him instead?”

  “I needed to replace one stress with another one.”

  “That sounds logical.”

  “I hate fighting with you. It becomes… overwhelming. And I can’t breathe. So I have to do something and let time pass before I can deal with it.”

  “How come you only have to do that with me? You’re so good at dealing with everybody else’s shit.”

  “You really need me to explain it?”

  I nodded.

  “Because you’re the thing I love most in the world, you idiot. There’s a whole set of other emotions there.”

  “That’s actually kind of romantic.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  I snuggled in closer to him. “Dec?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re never going to stop being stupid about each other, are we?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Good. Just checking.”

  I was almost about to fall asleep against his warmth when I jerked awake. “Wait a minute! Micah! Did you get that fixed?”

  “His parents wouldn’t even let me past the front door.”

  “What?”

  “Micah didn’t want to talk to me.”

  “He will soon. He just needs to… adjust, I guess?”

  “He blames me for Jasper Brunswick.”

  “Then you might as well blame me. He wouldn’t be in your life if it wasn’t for me.”

  “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have Fran and Roger.”

  I could feel his smile against my temple.

  “That would be terrible,” I said. “I mean, Roger, I guess you could survive without him, but Fran’s indispensable.”

  “She sure is.” He was starting to sound sleepy now.

  “I love you,” I said. “I hope Jasper Brunswick isn’t too much of an offset for having me in your life.”

  “It could throw it into the red, but luckily you just scrape it into the black,” he said.

  I closed my eyes, but heard one last “Love you, too” before I fell asleep.

  Chapter 12

  RATHER THAN drafting an advertisement for Coby’s job, I tried calling him the next morning. It went to voice mail, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave a message. Anyway, he’d know I’d rang as it would show up as a missed call. No use belabouring the point.

  The landline rang, but it was Dec’s mum. She sounded relieved when Dec himself picked up the phone, so I knew she thought I had sounded off when I spoke to her last night.

  “I really shouldn’t have run off,” Dec said after he hung up.

  “I’m saying notheeenk,” I drawled.

  “You actually just said a lot, then.”

  “I meant notheeeenk.”

  “Stop doing that!”

  “Okay.” I was all business now. “That was my fault. I thought you might have ended up at your parents’.”

  “Yeah, that’s usually where you’ve found me before. I wish you were that easy.”

  “I tend not to run away,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “You have to call Micah.”

  “I already did that, remember?”

  “Then try again!” I felt a sense of déjà vu, except reversed. “Hey, is this what it feels like when you always tell me to call someone? It’s fun! I see why you like it.”

  “If I feed you coffee, will you stop harassing me?”

  “I harass with love. But coffee would be grand.”

  When he returned and set the mug before me, I grabbed him around the waist. “Never let me go, Declan Tyler!”

  “I don’t have any choice in the matter, it seems.”

  “Damn skippy.”

  LATER THAT afternoon somebody buzzed our door.

  When I activated the speakerphone, I was greeted by the sight of Micah standing there, scowling into the camera.

  “Can Declan come out and play, Mrs. Tyler?” he asked. So fucking smarmy. He obviously wasn’t learning anything about how to act sociably with people.

  I kept the line open as I yelled out for Declan. “Honey, that obnoxious Johnson boy wants to speak to you!”

  Declan came out of the bedroom, a hopeful expression plastered on his face. “Really?”

  “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”

  He rubbed my shoulder, an effort at placating me. He knew I tended to get excessively chipper when I was in a situation I would rather be out of.

  “Come on up, Micah,” Dec said, buzzing him in.

  “Don’t scare him,” I said. “Don’t come on heavy. He’s like a skittish woodland creature. Bambi, even.”

  “Simon, please.”

  It was my turn to rub his shoulder. “I’ll be good. Just don’t come on too strong. Seriously. That kid will bolt.”

  “Okay, boss.”

  “You kids will work it out!”

  He snorted. “You don’t have to hang around.”

  “It would be rude not to say hello, and offer some milk and biscuits. He did call me Mrs. Tyler, after all.”

  Dec literally facepalmed. “He didn’t?”

  “Yep. He’s such a delight. Between him and Jasper Brunswick—”

  I was cut off by Micah’s knock at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Dec said.

  I heard mumbled greetings at the door, and Dec brought Micah through to the lounge room.

  “Drink?” I asked. “Oh, and before you say anything, no, not a beer.”

  “Hold up a minute,” Dec said. “Micah, apologise to Simon.”

  “What?” Micah and I asked together.

  “I heard what you said on the intercom. I’m telling you, Micah, I’m not putting up with that kind of shit.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just go, then.” Micah glared daggers at me.

  “Hey, I didn’t put him up to this,” I told him.

  “This is all me,” Dec said to Micah. “I might let you get away with a lot of shit when it comes to me, but you don’t ever disrespect my partner. If you want to get treated like an adult, apologise, then you and I will sit down and sort out this mess.”

  “Sorry,” Micah mumbled.

  “That didn’t sound genuine enough to me,” Dec said.

  “I’m sorry, alright?” Micah sounded a little more genuine this time, but also more petulant—if possible.

  “It’s okay, Dec,” I said. “I don’t expect him to fall at my feet. I’ll make coffee.”

  “Can I have tea?” Micah asked, and then, as if it were a struggle to add, “Please.”

  “English Breakfast, Irish Breakfast, oolong, Fruit Blush, peppermint, Earl Grey, chamomile, or cinnamon?”

  Micah rolled his eyes. I could tell he was just itching to make a crack about my lack of masculinity due to the range of tea in my house—little did he know it was actually Dec who usually drank it. “Do you have any plain?”

  “I’m sure I can find some Lipton or something.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  What did you know, the kid was trying to make an effort. I would not put arsenic in his tea and pretend it was almond flavoured, then.

  “Coffee for me thanks.” Dec smiled gratefully at me.

  As I passed him I whispered, “Thanks for being on my side.”

  And with that, Mrs. Tyler made her way to the kitchen like a good hausfrau. Mrs. Tyler also knew how to eavesdrop by making instant instead of firing up the coffee machine, which would be a surefire way of missing all conversation.

  “Are you ready to talk?” Dec asked his protégé.

  “I guess.”

  He was dripping with enthusiasm.

  “So, why did you freeze out there?” Dec led him over to the couches.

  If I leaned in a little across the kitchen counter, I could see Micah sprawled out, all teenag
e limbs akimbo. “It’s too much. I don’t want to be the new poster boy for the GayFL. Let some other kid do it.”

  “There is no other kid, as far as I’m aware. You’re it.”

  That infamous Micah Johnson scowl again. “Then I quit. For good. I couldn’t stand that bloody stupid Jasper Brunswick column. It’s going to get worse if I actually get drafted. It won’t be just his shit little rag making up stuff about me.”

  “Then you have to learn to play their game, too. Being a footy player… well, unfortunately it’s not just about kicking a ball on a field.”

  “It should be.”

  “Maybe it was, fifty or so years ago. But now it’s a professional league. You get paid big bucks for it, and there’s celebrity built into it. You have to talk to papers; you have to engage with the public. It’s expected of you, not just by them but by your bosses at the club as well.”

  “Well, I don’t want to do that.” Maybe he thought if he said it often enough the rules would change just for him.

  “You think I did? You think I wanted to be the poster boy for gay rights in the AFL?”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have pashed your boyfriend in public, then.”

  I almost dropped the mug I was holding. Sometimes Micah could be as wilfully dense as a California Redwood.

  Declan sized him up. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I wanted a life, too.”

  “And that’s all I want.”

  “Then you’re going to have to make a decision.”

  I brought in the drinks to an awkward silence. Micah sniffed at his tea, as if he had guessed my fantasies of poisoning him. Then he took a sip.

  “I guess I’ll see how it goes.”

  IF HE wanted his proclamation to be greeted with cheers, and the glow of Declan’s tears, Micah would have been disappointed. Declan simply told him that he hoped he would be happy with his decision and offered him a ride home. Micah declined, saying he was meeting friends in the city. Before he left, he surprised me by thanking me for the tea.

  “That is one hard-to-read kid,” I said, after the door had closed behind him.

  Dec looked exhausted. “I’m at my wits’ end.”

  “Your wits’ end? Really?”

  A tired grin, but a grin nevertheless. “I sounded like my mother.”