by Kelly, A. S.
She’s right. Chris comes round as much as she can. Despite the café she owns, and Ryan and her son running around her ankles, she’s always there for Mum and Dad – and for us, too. And even though Evan’s a grouchy teenager, with hormones flying all over the place, he’s never left behind, and pops round a lot after school to see if my parents need anything.
Mum turns to me and Ryan. “We can’t have this conversation without Ian, and he’s got other things on his mind at the moment. Riley and the baby will be home tomorrow and I don’t want to upset him. Only God knows how much that boy has to be happy about.”
“Are you looking for excuses to delay this even more?” I ask as gently as I can.
Mum looks at me, exhausted. She can’t do it, and she knows this too, even if she doesn’t want to admit it – to us, or to herself.
“If you want, I could ask Martin,” Chris says, taking the situation into her own hands.
Ryan rolls his eyes just at the mention of Martin’s name.
“We all know that Dad has absolutely no intention of going to a physiotherapist. Not in hospital or in a rehab centre.” She’s right: Dad’s been leaving the house less and less. “Maybe Martin will know someone at the hospital who we can trust.”
“That’s a good idea, love. Thank you,” Mum says to her.
Chris smiles warmly. “I’m sure that physio will help him move more easily and get rid of the pain – but it’ll also help his mood. I’ll call Martin later. Actually, no – I’ll pop round and see him—”
“Don’t even think about it,” Ryan interrupts her. “I’m sure a phone call is more than enough.”
“Ryan…” Chris warns him.
He scoffs.
“Hey, everyone’s here!” Dad moves slowly into the kitchen on his crutches, shutting us all up immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, looking around at us. “Ah, I get it. This is one of those conversations I’m not allowed to be part of.”
“Dad, no, that’s not true,” Ryan tries to interject.
“These moments have been happening more and more recently.” He sinks into a chair, helped by Evan who takes his crutches and leans them against the wall. He folds his hands on the table. “I imagine everything’s not going as smoothly as you’d like me to think.”
Chris sits down next to him right away and takes his hand. Ryan sighs, full of love.
“Things are going less smoothly, yes,” she tells him calmly.
He nods.
“It’s just that we’re worried about your knee, and we can’t keep delaying things.”
Dad places his other hand on top of Chris’.
Ryan watches them, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I watch him, my dickhead little brother who, against all odds, has managed to find this wonderful woman.
“So, what are you all thinking?” Dad asks, his voice trembling.
Ryan wipes his eyes, and Evan places a supportive hand on his shoulder. Mum bites her lip nervously.
“We could ask someone to come to the house and help you.”
He nods slowly.
“I thought I’d ask Martin.”
“Martin?”
“He’s trustworthy.”
He looks at her, but isn’t listening to her anymore. His attention has already drifted elsewhere.
I sigh anxiously, looking around at my family circling the kitchen. A family who’s suffering, each trying to get through this moment – because, soon, we may lose the most important person in our lives, leaving a hole so big in our hearts that it can never be filled.
5
Nick
“So? How is it?”
“How’s what?”
“How is it being here, all three of you?”
“Well, actually, you’re here too,” Ian says, handing me a beer.
“Details, details…”
“I wish your constant presence was just a detail.”
I lean against the kitchen counter as he loads up the dishwasher.
“By this point you may as well have come for dinner.”
“I didn’t want to intrude.”
He looks at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.
“Too much,” I add, taking a few sips of my beer. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because you didn’t answer mine.”
I came to Ian’s to talk about our dad, but as soon as I got here, I chickened out – especially once he started asking me how he is, what he said about the baby, whether he really understood what was going on. So I tried to buy some time and change the subject. But Ian’s clever – it’s not like talking to Ryan. He analyses every single syllable and every breath. I don’t even want to imagine what it would be like to live with him. Poor Riley.
“We were talking, the other day, at home.”
He closes the dishwasher door and straightens up, facing me.
“He has to start physio, Ian. We can’t keep delaying it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We thought we’d find someone to come round to the house.”
“And Dad agreed to this?”
I sigh but I don’t answer.
“God, it’s all so strange.”
“We have to be prepared,” I say, less certain than I’d like.
“Are you?”
“Fuck, no. I could never be prepared.”
Ian lifts his gaze to meet mine. “We’re losing him, aren’t we?”
I nod, incapable of speaking.
“But things seemed to be getting better. The past few months he’s been more present, more—”
“We know how it works,” I interrupt him. “We know what’s going to happen.”
“I can’t accept it.”
Ian lowers his gaze to the floor. I know what all of this means for him, I know how much he’s suffering. Not that Ryan and I are suffering any less, but Ian has always seen our dad as his saviour, the man who picked him up from the street and adopted him. He not only gave him a surname, but a life worth living. And it’s something that not everyone would do. Something that only a truly great man is capable of doing: and our dad was that man.
“Let’s worry about one thing at a time, okay? For now, our priority is convincing him to do the physio. He honestly can’t walk anymore. Chris says she’s going to ask Martin for a recommendation.”
“I imagine Ryan was thrilled by that.”
I laugh, despite everything.
We lose ourselves for a few minutes in the silence, absorbing the shock. I decide to change the subject.
“So, bro. How does it feel to have your own family?”
Ian looks at me and smiles. “Fucking amazing, Nick. Better than I ever imagined.”
“I’m happy for you.”
Ian grabs the bottle from my hands and takes a few sips.
“When are you next off?” he asks me, as if my bullshit job could ever compare with his new life.
“They’ve called me out for a job next week. Tenerife.”
“Wow,” he says, unenthusiastically.
“Yeah…”
“What’s up?”
“I was thinking of quitting.”
He looks at me, his brow furrowed.
“What if I told you I was starting to get fed up of that lifestyle?” I ask him, hesitant.
He smiles. “I’d say that’s possible.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s fun. But now…”
“Now you’re starting to get bored, just like with everything else you’ve started then abandoned?”
“That’s not what’s happening here.”
Ian looks at me intently. “Is it for the family?”
“Maybe…”
“Are you about to tell me you want a more stable lifestyle?”
“Let’s not bullshit. It’s just that Mum and Dad need our help. Ryan’s always a nightmare, and you have the baby…”
“We’re not talking about us, Nick. We’re talking about you. What do you want?”
“I don’t
know,” I sigh. “But maybe just…not this.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to miss out on anything, you know?”
Ian places a hand on my shoulder.
“I’ve already missed so much. We don’t know how much time we still have, and Mum needs us here. Besides, things with Ryan seem to be going much better. I don’t want to leave again and go back to where we started.”
“I get it.”
“And now, there’s Jamie…”
“You talking about me?”
I turn suddenly to see Jamie standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed.
“Nice speech, Nick. Congrats.”
“What the hell are you doing here? And where did you appear from?”
Jamie doesn’t flinch. “I was upstairs with Riley and my niece.”
“How long have you been standing there for?”
“Too long,” he says, moving closer to us, opening the fridge and grabbing himself a beer.
I see that Ian’s house has the same problem as my parents’: there’s always someone turning up.
“So, old Nick is starting to wobble…”
“I’ll break your leg and show you wobbling.”
He laughs, throwing his head back. “Tired of working in your underwear? Are you starting to get a bit chilly…?”
“I’m starting to want to break someone’s ankle.”
Jamie stands there in front of us and tilts his head. “What’s up? Are you homesick? Want to get the nursery ready?”
I shake my head, frustrated.
“I’m serious.”
I look at him, weighing up his expression.
“Come on, let’s hear it. What’s worrying you?”
“Why should I speak to you about it?”
“You were talking to Ian.”
“Ian’s my brother.”
“And I’m Riley’s brother. We’re basically in-laws.”
Ian laughs next to me, enjoying the show.
“Come on, tell your Uncle Jamie everything…”
“Jesus, not this again!” I throw my hands in the air, exasperated.
“You thinking of playing for another team?”
“Not in the way that you’re thinking.”
Jamie bursts out laughing again. “You’re not my type, Nick O’Connor. And seriously, you couldn’t handle me.”
I laugh, despite wanting to kill him.
“So…?”
“So what?”
“What are you planning on doing?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t have a back-up plan.”
“Well, you need one now.”
“What can I do? I only know how to play rugby and pose half-naked on a beach.”
“You’re rubbish at both of those things…”
“Jamie…” Ian warns him.
“Okay, I’ll be serious,” he says, scrutinising me. “You’re a bit too old to play now, mate.”
“Wow, thanks!”
“And you’re out of shape.”
“I’ll show you out of shape!”
“But maybe, something…”
Jamie smiles, satisfied, as his mind tries to work out a way to get involved in my life, just like he has with my brothers. I don’t know if his interest in me is a good thing, but judging by what happened for Ian and Ryan, maybe I should give him a shot.
“So?” Ian presses.
“O’Connor brothers, you’d all be lost without me.”
And the funny thing is that he really believes it.
6
Nick
I pull in to the UCD centre at eight forty-five, and walk around to the field at the back of the building, where the hopeful members of the young Leinster team are training. Jamie asked to meet me here. It’s a bright, clear day and the sun is already warming the air, promising a nice morning. The centre is basically closed, apart from the staff, and the team using the field for unofficial training sessions during the summer break.
I sit down on the stands, sipping at my takeaway coffee as I wait for Jamie. I see him then, with an armful of the coloured bibs we use for friendlies. He lays them down on the first step then lifts his gaze, noticing me. He takes off his cool-guy sunglasses and flashes me a guilty smile. I start to fear the worst.
“O’Connor, good morning!”
“What are we doing here?” I ask, glancing around.
Jamie gives me a satisfied smirk as he nods towards a banner behind him that I hadn’t noticed before: Leinster Summer Camp.
And my last sip of coffee shoots straight out of my nose.
* * *
“Please, tell me you’re kidding.”
Jamie just keeps laughing as he arranges the water bottles on a table next to the stands.
“Well, you could at least give me a hand.”
“Why should I?”
“Because we’re in this thing together.”
“No way, this is all yours. I’m not getting involved.”
“Come on, Nick. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“A kids’ summer camp? This was your great idea?”
“I never said it was great.”
“No way.”
“Why not? What’s so bad about it? They’re just kids.”
“Exactly – they’re kids! What am I supposed to do with kids? I wouldn’t even know what to say to them!”
“Haven’t you had enough practice with Ryan?”
“Sure, but that’s different. I had to do it. He’s my brother.”
“It’s only for two weeks.”
“What? Nope.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“No, it won’t. How did you end up dragged into this anyway? Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“The centre organised the camp and wanted a player to motivate kids to participate. So obviously, they asked me, because I’m the best.”
“Oh, please…”
“I needed an assistant – and that’s where you come in.”
“So I’m not just babysitting kids, but I’m also your assistant? Nope. Not going to happen.”
“You don’t have to babysit them, you have to teach them how to play.”
“You can do that on your own.”
“I’ll be like the fun parent. You can be the boring one.”
“Me? Boring?”
He shrugs indifferently. “The one who teaches them all the rules.”
“Couldn’t you have asked Ian or Ryan?”
“It would’ve been too distracting, having all those famous rugby stars wandering around.”
“Wow, thanks.”
“They need you to inspire them, make them trust you. Someone to teach them the basics, someone…mature. That’s it.”
“You mean old.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Jamie, I’m not the right guy for this.”
“Too late,” he says, pointing behind me.
I turn suddenly to see a few of the kids approaching us, accompanied by their mothers.
“I’ll do the honours while you go and get changed. There’s a tracksuit for you inside.”
“I’m not doing this, Jamie.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I don’t think this is going to solve any of my problems.”
“No, it won’t, but it’s a start. And that’s what you need,” he says, before jogging off to greet the new arrivals.
I watch him approach them, telling stupid jokes that make the kids and their mothers laugh, of course. I look around at the field, the stands, the banners painted onto the grass, and an uninvited sadness starts to gnaw at my stomach.
It’s been a long time since I set foot on a field, sweated, cheered, felt adrenaline coursing through my veins. It’s been too long since I felt that kind of emotion – to be honest, it’s been too long since I felt a lot of different emotions. But now isn’t the time to sit here reflecting on my shitty life and my crap choices.
It’s time to work out how
to get through today, and draft up a list of twenty ways to break someone’s leg and end their career. And I’m sure I’ll easily think of all twenty of them.
* * *
I’m at Jamie’s side, sporting a blue tracksuit with COACH plastered across the chest, ready to start an ‘introduction to rugby’ lesson. Some of these kids have never played, and have been dragged here by their mothers so that they have a place to go when they’re at work. Other kids are almost veterans: kids that are part of the youth team, who want to keep training through the summer holidays. And others are…well, others are nerds: uncoordinated losers who have probably been sent here by their parents to ‘build their character’, or maybe to get themselves killed. I imagine I’ll find out later.
Jamie is buzzing, almost electric. To be honest, he’s always like this. I think he has Red Bull running through his veins, not blood. And with an audience hanging from his every word, his ego is growing dangerously big.
I’m the loser. The one who everyone glances at suspiciously, who no one will listen to. Let’s be honest: I wouldn’t have listened if I were them.
“Ready, mate?” Jamie asks, almost skipping over to me.
“Can’t wait.”
* * *
After making them do laps of the field, some warm-up exercises, and stretching, so that no one gets injured, Jamie splits them into two little teams, to try and show them the real spirit of the game. The others take their place on the stands, next to me.
Exactly: the losers.
I sit down, pulling the cap from my head and scoff unintentionally.
“You don’t want to be here either, do you?” A kid about ten years old turns to me. “Did your mum force you to come?”
I smile, despite myself. “Is that what happened to you?”
“More or less.”
“Don’t you like rugby?”
“I like it, it’s just that…”
“What?” I encourage.
“I’m no good.”
“Nobody is born good.”
“They don’t let me play at school.”
“Rugby?”
“Anything. They say I’m too slow, I have no coordination, that I’ll make them lose if I’m on their team.”
