I roughed up her hair, and she squirmed, but with her bump in the way and me being almost a foot taller than my tiny sibling, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Nah, you love me.”
“Debatable. Anyway, what happened last night?”
“You saw?”
“Of course I did.”
“You shouldn’t watch,” I grumbled. I’d played like shit and knowing they’d seen it made me feel even worse; something I didn’t know was possible.
“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course we’re going to watch. If you play here, we’re sitting in the stands cheering our arses off. If you’re away, we sit in front of the TV and coach you from the couch,” Mum explained matter-of-factly.
It didn’t surprise me. Not really. She’d seen every single one of my games since I was a kid. If she wasn’t sitting in the stands cheering louder than all the other parents, embarrassing the crap out of me, then she was cutting up oranges or covering a shift in the canteen. Mum had always been my number one supporter. Maybe that’s why it was so hard now. I felt like I was letting her down. Maybe I should just give up and accept that I was done. Start coaching kids or something.
Twenty minutes later and the house descended into chaos. Everyone was here. Sunday dinners were a thing with my family, a big thing, and even though I’d missed more than I’d attended, this was what home was all about. Family and food. Especially in my family.
Setting the last platter down on the table, Mum took her seat next to Dad, and he reached for her hand. There was a time when seeing their displays of affection made me want to gag, but these days it gave me hope. I was an old man. A lonely old man. Perhaps that’s why I was clinging so desperately to the game that had once been the love of my life. The only love of my life. It was all I had and if I lost it, I lost everything I knew.
After Dad finished saying grace and we also murmured our ‘Amens’, people started piling their plates high. Rocking back in my chair, I watched and waited my turn. My sisters were pains in the arse at the best of times but they’d gotten it right. Arianna and Isabella were married, with their tribe of terrors trailing them. Sienna, the baby of our family, was the latest to join motherhood, with the most adorable little girl you could imagine. After marrying her AFL ruckman husband, one who truly believed he played a real sport – loser – she’d settled into their life, but it wasn’t easy. With Hunter being on the road most weekends, there was a lot of time when it was just Sienna and Phoebe. Not that it’d matter. Sienna and Phoebe would never want for anything. Between her doting uncles, her poppy and her cousins, she’d never miss out on having someone there.
Then there was me. The loser of the family. I was thirty-four years old and completely alone. I didn’t even have a dog. I couldn’t. I travelled so much it wouldn’t be fair. So instead, I had my house on the hill that was devoid of human life. Even though I’d owned it for almost six years, rooms were still empty and boxes needed to be unpacked. The drive to turn it into a home had never hit me. I would’ve been better off not wasting my money and buying some shoebox apartment.
“So, Luca, found a girlfriend yet?”
Ah! There it was. The reason I wasn’t completely devastated when I couldn’t make it each week for dinner. The moment when the spotlight inevitably shone on me and my pathetic love life – or lack thereof.
“Nope.”
“Are you ever going to get married, Uncle Luca?” My ten-year-old nephew, Jake, asked as he stuffed a forkful of pasta in his mouth.
“Maybe. One day,” I replied wistfully.
Thankfully, my family knew when to push and when to back off, and now was one of those times when backing off was the answer. After we’d cleaned up, a game of soccer broke out in the backyard. My Dad was attempting to play referee and keep the peace, but he couldn’t keep up with his grandsons who hadn’t quite learnt the fine art of tackling and were knocking each other to the ground.
“Luca! Get out here and play, son,” he summoned.
Knowing better than to say no to the old man when he was barking instructions, I set my beer down on the railing and bounded down the steps. “Whose team am I on?” I asked.
Kids were funny sometimes. I often got roped into doing school visits and making appearances at various coaching clinics, and every time, kids fought to make sure I was on their team. I guess having an Australian jersey hanging in the closet meant I wasn’t the worst pick. But here, in my parents’ backyard where no one was watching, I was just Uncle Luca. Someone they fought to not have on their team. Their parents, my sisters and their husbands found the whole thing hilarious. Especially Nathan. Nathan was Isabella’s husband. He was an accountant by day, and with his receding hairline and expanding waist, he thought it was funny as all hell that he was chosen to play before me. Something I was pretty sure had never actually happened before.
After one of the most aggressive games of soccer I’d ever been a part of, one that had resulted in one scraped knee, two kids in tears, and me lying on the ground being climbed on and tickled by my nephews, I kissed Mum on the head and made my way home. Alone. Pulling into the driveway, I stared up at the dark house, wishing I was anywhere else.
Chapter Two – Elise
“My kids are feral today,” I complained as I bit into my apple.
“I feel you,” one of the other teachers, Trish, agreed as we enjoyed a much-needed time-out in the staff room.
It was only Tuesday and already it’d been one hell of a long week. It’d poured with rain yesterday, which meant we kept our classes indoors, something that was not fun when you had twenty-seven nine and ten year olds who only wanted to do one of two things. Either argue or run around causing havoc. Keeping them inside meant their options were limited.
“You’ve got the soccer clinic this afternoon, don’t you?”
Rolling my eyes hard, I mumbled my agreement. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the idea of a clinic, but they were always so badly organised and such a pain in the arse. Add in the fact I knew the playground was muddy and soggy from yesterday’s downpour, and I knew I was in for a fun afternoon.
“Aren’t you excited? They’re sending players from the Wolves aren’t they?”
“That’s what Jess told me.” Not that I really knew what that meant. I mean, I knew the Wolves were the locally based soccer team who played in the national competition, but I had no idea who the players were, if they were any good, or even what colour jerseys they wore.
The bell rang, and I found my feet, tugging my t-shirt down over my butt. With a long afternoon of sports ahead of me, I’d already changed into a pair of leggings, baggy t-shirt, and my favourite pink runners. Surrounded by other teachers in their pressed pants and pretty dresses, I felt completely underdressed, but it was what it was. Nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t about to run around the field in a frilly skirt and sandals.
