Page 29 of We Were Never Lovers
He’d lain awake for a long time wondering what his problem was. He’d been aching for it and now he had the green light and he was hiding in his bedroom.
Jack was driving them to the club the following morning when the reason Sean was hesitant hit him. Preseason training had officially begun and Sean was attending to do aquatic therapy—“pool-based hydrotherapy”—which Jorge was excited about, had already organised the waterproof cover specific to Sean’s measurements, but Sean was yet to be convinced since hecouldn’t stop imagining his leg drowning him. After that, endless video reviews and a team meeting, while Jack trained back with the main group.
Sean was sitting in the passenger seat, watching the convict brick and heritage houses give way to new townhouses as they cruised out of Fremantle and headed for the training facility in Cockburn, his heart beating with nerves as he realised he didn’t know how to make a move. How had he managed it the first time? And when was their first time? How did it happen? He couldn’t quite believe he was only thinking about this now, but he was, and he was so caught up in it, anxious about it, it felt a lot like when he’d been in the hospital, when the agitation was at its worst, when everything was confusing and he had questions that could never be answered because while people might be able to tell him about his life, there were ways he interpreted his life no one else could ever explain.
“Hey,” Jack said, his deep voice breaking into Sean’s panic as swiftly as the hand he reached over and grabbed Sean’s bare knee with. “It’s gonna be alright. Everyone on the team knows what’s happened and the new guys, the ones we’ve got since, they all know the drill, Harris has spoken to everyone. It’s gonna be fine.”
He squeezed Sean’s knee reassuringly before putting his hand back on the steering wheel like it was a normal gesture between them.
And Sean remembered there was another thing to be anxious about. He took a deep breath, ready to ask Jack to pull over so he could get out and hop away, when what came out was, “Did we fuck for the first time after we lost that prelim?”
Jack startled so much he jerked the car into the other lane and got a vicious horn from the stunned driver on their left.
“Shit, sorry, sorry,” Jack said even though the person couldn’t hear him.
Sean looked at the man and saw him do a double take when he realised who he was looking at, his face transforming from anger to surprise. Sean felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up; he waved.
“Can we talk about this later?” Jack asked.
“It’s a yes or no question,” Sean replied, his heart ticking up again.
“No,” Jack retorted firmly. “Happy?” he shot him a complicated look—put out, but hurt. When Jack looked at him like this, Sean got the feeling Jack was talking to past him—Sean now—and importing all his disappointment that this present Sean was not living up to the future him he’d become. It pissed Sean right off, but underneath that, it made him feel woefully inadequate, a feeling he was more than used to from school as a kid, a feeling he fucking hated, and so, when Jack reminded him of it, he charged in with his anger in order to avoid the inadequacy.
“Why would that make me happy?”
They stopped at a red light, the heritage houses and charm of Fremantle firmly behind them, old-school industrial sheds and buildings stretching down the highway to their right, the dilapidated service station that still hadn’t been torn down sitting like a mirage in the emerging heat on their left.
Jack inhaled audibly. “I don’t know.” It was as if they were always having multiple conversations, layers Sean couldn’t track because there was so much he didn’t know.
“Look, I just wanna know how we started,” Sean said as the light turned green and Jack accelerated right, cruising down the wide lanes of the highway.
“And you thought this was the best time to ask?” Jack focused on the road, voice tight.
“No, I dunno. I’m sorry, alright? But you don’t get it,” he turned his body to face him. He liked this, he realised, Jack trapped in the car with him—he couldn’t get up and pretend hehad other stuff to do when Sean asked questions he didn’t want to answer. “I’m trapped back there and it’s like my whole life has changed and you’re only givin’ me half answers. So when I think of somethin’ then yeah, I’m gonna ask it.”
Jack glanced at him, a quick searching look, before he gave a firm nod. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he said decisively. “I’m doing my best but it’s difficult for me too. I’m notnottelling you shit to be difficult; I’m trying to protect you. Also—”
“Don’t do that—”
“Also,” Jack repeated, “can we maybe agree not to do this just before we get to training?”
Sean scoffed. “Like training ever stopped us getting into it.”
Jack winced, but kept his eyes resolutely on the road. He drove into the carpark and headed for the players lot, winding the window down to flash a pass at a boom gate before they drove in.
“Will you tell me after?” Sean asked as they parked.
Jack didn’t meet his eyes, but he agreed with a, “Yeah, alright.”
Sean nodded. And then the rush of panic at being at training with a bunch of players who knew two years’ worth of stuff he couldn’t remember flooded in. It wasn’t like the brief visits at the hospital—he was expected to be somebody here.
“We’re early,” Jack said, “so you can get ready and head to the gym. The guys are gonna come in and say hi in pairs before you hit the pool, me or Ben will be with them.”
“Sounds good,” Sean said, trying to believe it.
“Hey,” Jack reached for him, aborted the movement and rested his hand on the console. Sean wished he’d just touch him again, but he’d fucked that up by bringing up that fight. Because that’s what it must’ve been in the end. Just another fight.
“It’s gonna be alright,” Jack said. “You’re still you, Sean Hiller, one of our best players. That hasn’t changed.”
