Ian
Iset down all my stuff on the belt and walk through the security gate. I gather up my things and stuff them back in my bag, which I sling over my shoulder, following the guys over to the gate. People are looking at us, recognising us. We definitely don’t go unnoticed and with our jerseys on, even an idiot could figure it out.
I try to ignore the looks I’m getting, but I feel their eyes on me – for the first time, it bothers me. I don’t want anyone looking at me. I don’t want them reading my eyes and understand how I’m feeling. I don’t want my pain to be put on display. It’s private and it should stay that way.
We sit down and wait to be called for boarding. Jamie is sitting next to me: he won’t leave me alone even for a second. Maybe he thinks I’m going to change my mind and refuse to leave.
He had to convince me, almost by force, to come along on this trip. The coach already told me he wasn’t going to call me, at least not at the beginning, but he’d keep an eye on me to make sure I didn’t screw anything else up. I had to let myself be seen, or I really would have given up my position on the team.
Mum called. Ryan called. Nick called; but I didn’t answer any of their calls. I don’t want to hear or see anyone.
I need to concentrate, be closed off in my own world, thinking about sport because it’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt me right now.
The phone rings again in my jacket and I pick it up angrily, planning to throw it against the wall. I could just turn it off, but my way seems more efficient and definitive. But then a voice announces over the load speaker that it’s time to board so I do turn it off, having decided to ignore everyone at least until I get back home.
They can do without me for three days. My arsehole brothers will have to deal with it.
I get in line with Jamie – who is starting to get on my nerves – close at my heels, ready to forget everything else.
* * *
When I get backto my apartment three days later even more angry and stressed, I decide to turn on my phone again.
Mum, Ryan, Nick. And then Nick again. Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick.
A terrible doubt crosses my mind. I call him right away and wait nervously for an answer but the phone rings with no answer. I’m weighed down by the worst possible situation when I call my parents’ house and my mother answers after only three rings.
“Mum?”
“Ian! You’re back!”
“Are you okay? Dad, Ryan, Nick?”
“Yes, we’re all fine.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Is Nick there by any chance? I can’t find him.”
“No, Ian. Nick’s out. I haven’t seen him in three days.”
“Okay. I’m trying to get in touch with him. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’s probably up to his old shenanigans.”
“Say hi to Dad for me.”
I hang up, but an anxiety hangs over me.
I look over all the calls I’ve received which are almost exclusively from Nick with one exception. Riley.
I catch my breath in my throat.
Two minutes later I’m on my bike.
* * *
I slowdown about a hundred metres from her door to stop next to the pavement. Riley is huddled up in her coat walking slowly. There’s a man next to her, one I know too well, a fucking prick that I’ll kill with my own hands – this time, no one’ll save him.
