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George rubbed his eyes, shook his head.
“Look,” Joq said, the alcohol making him brave. “I know Finn leaving sucks, but you’ll rebuild. It’ll be fine, maybe not this year, but you’re a rookie too, you know? Just get through the season.”
George’s shoulders started to shake. Joq squinted, felt terrible. Then he realised George was laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothin’, sorry,” George met his eyes across the pool. “Nothin’.”
Joq smiled. “No, tell me.”
George smiled the unhappiest smile Joq had ever seen. “You think I give a shit about the season?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Look,” George met his eyes. “I know this is not fair to you, I know that. But I’m gonna need some time, okay? It wasn’t… nothing.”
Joq looked away, at the manicured gardens around the pool, the palm trees swaying in the light breeze, their summery feel at odds with the winter chill around them.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” George went on, his own tongue clearly loosened by the booze. Joq wanted to tell him to shut up. “And I know it’s not fair to you,” he rambled on again. “So, if you want out, I get it.”
And that sobered Joq right up. “What’re you saying? You want to break up?”
George shook his head. “No, but I’m saying I get it if you do ’cos I’m asking for some time to, you know,” he looked at his phone, “get over him.”
Joq’s stomach dropped out. The world stopped spinning for a moment. He watched George staring at his phone. His shoulders were hunched, and his heartbreak was evident in every line of his body.
“Are you still speaking to him?” Joq asked, eyes on the phone.
George jerked his head. “He blocked me.”
And well, it wasn’t as good as George initiating no contact, but it was better than nothing.
“Just,” Joq sighed. “Let’s talk after the season ends.”
“Okay,” George was nodding. “I’ve moved into the spare room, so, you can have some space while I...”
Joq didn’t know what to say, and George didn’t go on. So, he said nothing and went back inside.
33
Before Finn left, the team had been solid finals contenders. Not top four, but they’d been pencilled in to make the eight. Now, Joq watched as they battled it out in a game that meant the difference between bottom of the eight or season over.
In the end, it was barely a contest. They were out, season done. They still had games to play, but they were out.
Things at home were polite, friendly, a couple of housemates careful not to say the wrong thing. Joq hated it.
But once the final game was done, it was George who said they should get away, maybe Thailand.
Joq was already looking at flights before George had finished speaking.
And then a social media storm erupted with one photo and everything in Joq’s careful plan to rebuild his relationship screeched to a halt.
A funny little voice above the noise and disbelief in his brain thought, It’s actually a good picture.
It was Finn, no mistake, his face turned to the camera, his lips parted, hair mussed, eyes bleary with booze, a big burly guy pressing him up against a wall, lips fused to the side of his neck, their bodies pressed tightly together. The photo was tagged at a gay club in Sydney, the caption leaving no room for tossing this out as a one-off, drunken kiss: and this was before he got railed in the bathroom…
The media went ballistic, the voices shouting about outing someone without their consent drowning out the other voices that sounded self-satisfied in finally questioning the “depression” line. The picture was taken down, but it was too late. It was screenshotted. It was everywhere.
