Authors: Rosalind James
“No worries.” Emma had been laughing in spite of herself. “I
already told Reka. I may as well tell you too. It was Claudia’s idea, as far as
I know. And I don’t know her, so I can’t comment on her personality.”
“But you and Nic are an item, eh,” Reka asked.
Emma flushed. “Uh . . .”
“Poor Emma,” Hannah protested. “Shift over, Reka. I
am
going
to sit with her. We need some blonde power over here. Stop pestering her, you
two.”
“Can you check with Zack how he’s doing, Kate?” Emma asked.
“If he needs to use the toilet, or anything?”
Kate leaned over for a consultation, then turned back to
Emma. “He says he already went. That Ariana took him, before the break.”
“Oh, no,” Emma said with shock. “I’m sorry. I should have
asked sooner. I didn’t realize they’d be wandering about on their own.”
“Ariana loves it,” Reka assured her. “Being the oldest, she
thinks she’s everybody’s auntie. I’m going to have to watch out, or she’s going
to be taking over this one entirely.” She wrapped a protective hand around the
mound of her belly.
“She’s a good little manager,” Hannah told Emma. “Even at
nine. Wonder where she gets that from.”
“Oi,” Reka protested. “We’re
capable.
That’s what we
are.”
All the women looked up as Nic edged down the row of seats
again, handed Emma the tray with the beers. He leaned over to give her a quick
kiss before sitting down himself. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he
announced, looking at Reka with a laughing smile. “Because I know you were
wondering.”
Emma twisted in the seat of the Lexus to check on Zack.
“Asleep,” she told Nic. “That was a lot of excitement, last night and today.
He’ll need a quiet day tomorrow. Because school starts again on Monday, too.
Maybe we should go on home, in the morning.”
“Why?” he objected. “Why can’t we all have a quiet day? What
would you be doing, if you were at home?”
She considered. “Maybe having Graham over for a few hours.”
“Well, why can’t we do that? Ring his mum and ask, why don’t
you? I know Zack’d love to show him his tower. And I meant to ask you to go to
the flat anyway tomorrow, pack a few more things. You could collect Graham
then. I thought you and Zack could stay with me till I’m off to Aussie on
Thursday.”
“I have to go to work, though. And Zack has to go to
school.”
“And your point?”
She really couldn’t think of one. “It’s not much more
driving,” he said. “And I’d be able to take Zack to school, collect him as
well, on Monday. Give him a bit of a shorter day. You wouldn’t even have to do
as much. Rose’ll be coming by, every afternoon.”
“Every
afternoon?”
“Monday through Wednesday, yeh. She comes and does my
washing, a bit of a shop, fixes me something for dinner. As well as cleaning.”
“Wow. You have somebody to fix your dinner every night?”
“Weeknights, when I’m home. Because I have to eat right, and
there are only a few things I know how to make,” he confessed. “Can’t have
steak and salad every night, or scrambled eggs. Besides, I don’t like cleaning,
but I like it clean. What’s a fella to do?”
He went on more seriously. “I’ll be back training on
Tuesday, and off to Melbourne on Thursday, start that long stretch away. We
don’t have that much time. I’d like to spend as much of it as I can with you
and Zack.”
“It won’t be that exciting,” she warned him. “He’s tired at
the end of the day, and so am I. And if any of those days are too tiring, we
may have some tears, a meltdown. Can you handle that?”
“I’ve already seen you cry,” he pointed out. “I think you
know I can handle it.”
“I meant Zack.”
He smiled. “I know you did. Whoever has a meltdown. Even if
it’s me. I can handle it.”
It felt strange to be at home again once Nic had left
for Australia. Back to the regular routine that had been their normal life, but
that felt so flat now to her, and to Zack too, Emma suspected. Watching the game
helped. Talking to Nic the next day, as the team were preparing to get on the
plane for the flight to Argentina, helped more.
“Here’s where he is,” Emma explained to Zack after they’d
rung off, pulling up a world map on the computer. Here’s us, in New Zealand,
see? And here’s Melbourne.”
“In Aussie,” Zack said seriously. “I know where that is.”
“Right. Because you’ve been there.”
“And then where does he go?” Zack asked.
“Here. A long, long, way. He’ll have to fly past New Zealand
again, see? And then all the way across the Pacific Ocean to Buenos Aires, in
Argentina. Almost halfway around the world.”
“Does it take a long time? Like Safa?”
“Even longer. Fifteen hours. That’s a whole long day, from
the time you get up in the morning, to the time you go to bed. That’s how
long.”
“Do they do training, when they’re going on the airplane?”
Zack wondered.
She laughed. “I think that’d make the plane tip over. Not
really,” she hastened to add when he looked alarmed. “But there isn’t room. No,
they’re tired anyway, after their game. They’re resting from that, and putting
ice on the sore places, probably, like Nic did on his ankle, remember? And
sleeping, and eating, and watching some films.”
“And
then
they do training. When they get there,”
Zack guessed.
“Yeah,” Emma smiled. “They’ll be doing heaps of training. I
think you can count on that.”
The difference in time zones meant that Zack couldn’t talk
to his father during the long week while they waited for the game against
Argentina, and they had to rely on the emails Nic sent. At last, though, it was
Saturday noon in Auckland, Friday night in Argentina. Emma let Zack go first,
then gratefully took the phone herself, the first time that week that she’d
felt free to talk for more than a few minutes, the first time she hadn’t been
at work when Nic rang.
“How’d the Captain’s Run go today? Are you guys ready, with
the jet lag and everything?” she asked. “Are you all the way over it?”
“Yeh, it’s been enough time now, and we feel pretty good. With
the day you gain coming over here, it turns out that it’s a long week. Coming
back, losing the day, that’ll be tougher.”
“How do you win, though?” she wondered. “When you
have
been
traveling, and you’re playing in the other team’s home stadium, and everything?
Why does it work?”
“Because we’re a bit better, maybe?” he asked with a smile
in his voice. “No, seriously. A lot of it’s conditioning, being fit enough. And
good coaching, everyone being on the same page, doing his part on the pitch.
And something you’d think would be a disadvantage, like travel, can work for
you too, in a funny way.”
“How? How could that be?”
“What really loses you footy games,” he explained, “assuming
you’re fit enough, that you’ve trained enough together, that you have the
players and the coaching, is looking past the week. It’s not thinking it’ll be
hard, it’s assuming it’ll be easy. Do that, lose that mental edge, and you’ve
lost the game before you’ve even started. The difference at the international
level isn’t that much. It’s maybe five percent that separates teams. When
you’re talking about a few of the teams, the Boks, the Welsh, the French, the
English, it’s less than that. And any team can sting you, if you’ve let your
guard down.”
“So if you know it’s hard . . .”
“Right. If you know it’s going to be hard, if you’ve been
traveling for three weeks, you can lift to overcome that. Never assume, that’s
the trick. And that can be hard to do, when everybody else—the journos, the
public—thinks it’ll be easy. Out here on the sharp end, we know it’s never
easy.”
“It never looks easy to me,” she objected. “But then, I’ve
seen you afterwards a few times now. So you aren’t just a . . . a pinball out
there. Not to me.”
He laughed. “Glad I’m not a pinball. And it’s good to know
that you’ll see me after this one, too. Just a few more days.”
“I miss you,” she sighed. “I can’t wait to watch you
tomorrow, but I miss you
now.”
“That’s good. Because I miss you too.”
“You do? You aren’t too busy? Or just used to it?”
“You’re joking, right? That’s the hardest part of all,
specially this trip. Leaving you and Zack, just when I want to be with you
most. But that’s what’s better this time too. It’ll be so different flying
back, knowing I have the two of you to come home to.”
“When
are
you back?” she asked, warmth filling her at
his words.
“Tuesday noon, about then. And it’s off to Wellington again
on Friday, ready to play the Wallabies next Sunday. It’ll be a short week, like
I said, which means they’ll be rotating the squad a fair bit during both games.
I told Zack I wouldn’t be starting tomorrow, so he won’t be disappointed. But can
you bring him over after work Tuesday? Can the two of you stay, those few
nights there before I’m off again?”
“Of course we can, if you want us to.”
“Oh yeh,” he said with a little laugh. “I want you to.”
Back and forth, then. The surging happiness when he came
home, spending those paltry three nights together, then seeing him off to
Wellington, welcoming him home a few days later. A brief Sunday afternoon
before the workweek began, and then he was off again, to Dunedin this time, to
play the Springboks once more. Then, finally, the Championship won, and having
time stretching before them at last.
“Seems funny, doesn’t it,” Nic said. They were sitting in
the spa, decorously clad in their swim togs in deference to Zack, who’d spent a
bare five minutes with them before declaring it “too hot and boring” and
heading back into his tower to begin to put together the new Lego set Nic had
brought him from Dunedin.
“What does?” Emma asked, lifting her legs to lay them on top
of his under the bubbling water.
“Being so glad to have two weeks with you. Like our
non-honeymoon, but in reverse, eh. You’ll be going to work, and I’ll be
training, but just knowing you two will be here with me until I have to leave
again for England . . .” He trailed off, picked up a foot in his hands and
began to massage it. “That’s pretty special.”
“Mmm,” she agreed with a blissful sigh. “I’m happy about it
too. But you should let me do the foot massaging. You’re the one who needs it.”
“What I
need,”
he corrected her, “is to put my hands
on you. And since this is as far as I can go till tonight, I’m going to do this,
for now.”
“Do you have Reka and Hemi’s address?” she asked him later
that afternoon. “I finished their baby present, and I want to send it off
tomorrow.”
“Course.” He pulled out his phone, read off the address as
she copied it down on the big mailing box. “Let’s see how it turned out, then.”
“Sure, if you really want to. It’s the same as what I made
for Jenna,” she said, opening the gift box and carefully removing layers of
tissue. “Pretty simple.” She pulled out the little hat and sweater with their pink
ribbon trim, the tiny matching booties.
“Aww,” he said. “Those are really cute.”
“The cream color’s a bit problematic, of course, but at
least spit-up’s white. We’ll just cross our fingers about the baby poo.”
“They can’t get poo on shoes, surely,” he objected. “Or
sweaters.”
She laughed. “Trust me, they can get it on
everything.
Even
the hat may not escape. You’ve never seen a diaper disaster, I guess. But it’s
washable. Plus, with cream, I can just switch out the pink ribbons for blue and
change the buttons from these flower ones, if they need it. Though Reka swears
this is it. She says she’s tired of having babies and Hemi not being there for
them.”
“Yeh, and four’s a lot,” Nic agreed. “But I wouldn’t take
any bets on that, all the same, because he’s likely to be around after this. I
know he’s planning on retiring. Everyone wants to be part of the squad that
wins the World Cup for New Zealand twice in a row, touch wood. He’s held on for
that these past four years, along with a fair few of the older fellas. But at
some point once you’re past 30, your body’s telling you that enough’s enough. So,
yeh, Hemi’s had a good run, but I think it’s coming to an end.”
“And besides,” he went on practically, “they’re Maori. Even
if they do decide to stop at four, there’s bound to be a cousin to pass these
on to.” He ran a finger over the seed stitch pattern on the edge of the tiny
sweater. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”
“Oh, baby things are easy. Everything’s so small, it goes
fast. And you can use better yarn, too, because it doesn’t take much. This is
cashmere, merino, and silk. Doesn’t it feel nice?” she asked, fingering the
sweater herself.
“Yeh, it does. I’m sure Reka’ll love it.”
“Thanks.” She placed the little items carefully back in
their box, wrapped the tissue paper around them and put the lid on again. “And
thanks for indulging me and asking. I know it’s a little estrogen-rich for you,
admiring knitwear, talking about babies.”
“I like it, though,” he objected. “I like your girly
things.”
“You do?” she asked doubtfully.
“Course I do. My life’s pretty blokey, you know. I’m not
interested in having a woman I can arm-wrestle, who’s trying to prove she’s
tougher than me. I tried that,” he admitted. “It didn’t work out so well, for
me. I’ve decided I quite like indulging my soft side a bit. Especially when it
wins me sensitivity points,” he added with a grin.
“That makes it sound like you want me to be weak,” she said
slowly.
“That’s not it,” he hurried to explain. “I’m just saying
you’re different from me, and I like that. Because, you know, competition’s for
out there.” He gestured toward the windows. “When I’m holding you, or kicking
the footy with Zack, it’s not about being tough, then. It’s about the other
side of me.”