Page 41 of Brat on the Ball

“Right. And my second request…you mentioned that you’re in love with someone. I just hope they’re a good person. And that you can fall back on them when you need them. Because when — not if, when — this gets out, you’ll need someone in your corner. Someone who can make you feel loved when the day is over, and when the world is at its worst.”

I choked back…something. Perhaps I wanted to cry. I didn’t know. The whole situation just felt weird, and I’d never actually expected to get this far.

I wanted George. I didn’t want to go to Saudi Arabia. And I knew what I needed to do.

Chapter Twenty-Two - George

I was lying on the sofa at home in the evening, doing my best not to constantly check for messages from Ollie — there were none — when there came a knock at the door. Well, less of a knock and more a banging that could have woken the dead.

“I’m fucking coming!” I shouted as the banging continued. I checked through the peephole, but the landing light that had been on the blink for weeks had failed to turn on. I grabbed an umbrella from by the door and held it up, ready to club the intruder if they were dangerous. I opened the door.

And there he was.

My Ollie.

“What the f-” was all I got out before he was wrapping me in a hug I had been pretending I didn’t need. “Hey, hey, are you OK?” I asked, stroking his hair idly with one hand. I nudged the door closed and pulled him further into the room, only realising when we were almost at the sofa that I was still holding the umbrella. I threw it to the floor, and thethudmade Ollie jerk back and away from me. His eyes looked red and puffy, like he had been crying, but he gave me a little smile before another tear leaked out.

“I missed you,” he said.

“It’s only been a few days,” I protested.

“Well, I missed you, OK?”

“…I missed you too,” I admitted quietly. “What’s upset you? Who has upset you?”

“No one, I…well…”

“Tea? Coffee? Wine?” I asked.

“Wine. Definitely wine,” he said.

“Go sit down. I have a Chardonnay in the fridge.” I eased him to the sofa and poured out two generous glasses of wine. He would never need to know that I hadn’t ever kept wine in the fridge before I first met him, and how neglected the little case of Budweiser I’d bought last month was probably feeling.

“Now tell me what’s up,” I said. “You’re worrying me.”

Ollie hesitated before speaking, and I felt my jaw and heart drop at exactly the same time when he started talking about being sent to Saudi Arabia. “Please tell me you didn’t take them up on that,” I said. “You’re not going, right?”

“No, I don’t want to, anyway. But I think John has pushed me into a corner,” Ollie admitted. “He knows I’m hesitant about coming out, knows how much it scares me. And I don’t think anything less than coming out will appease the owners enough. It’ll make them and me a lot of money if I have to go, but the bad publicity might stop them from sending me if I’ve already come out, or even spoken against the Saudi Arabian league.”

“How long do you have to decide?” I asked.

“A couple of weeks before they loan me, and then I’ll be sold in August. Fuck, I’d never realised how much football sounds like a slave market before,” Ollie said, taking a gulp of wine. He wasn’t shaking so much anymore, and I noticed for the first time he was still in his Cardiff training kit.

“So…what’s the plan?”

“I don’t know, George. I want to do it. I really do. And I think I’m getting there. But coming out in the next couple of weeks…I’m considering going out just for the loan period, and organising my coming out before it can become a permanent thing. I don’t know, it all feels so fucking crazy.”

It was my turn to take a gulp of my wine to steady myself. “Please don’t go,” I muttered. “You can’t.” I felt so weak, so silly at the whole situation. But I couldn’t lose him.

“I might not have a choice if I can’t be brave enough to do it,” Ollie said. His eyes were watery, but no tears were falling as he gave me the tiniest smile. “But I can say it to you, now. I am Ollie Gunnerson, Championship footballer. And I am a gay man.”

My heart swelled to a thousand times its size. “I am so proud of you, Ol. But it won’t take much more to say it to the outside world. A quick Tweet, a statement to the press. I even have the post you asked me to write ready to go.”

“I’m scared to read that,” Ollie laughed. “I bet you’re a right harsh bastard about how long all this is taking me.”

“Never, my love.” The words teetered on my tongue. Those three words that were so, so true but so hard to admit out loud.

“I…I don’t know what to do now,” Ollie said. “I know that time isn’t on my side. But I know what I need to do. I just don’t know how I’ll have the strength to do it.”

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