She was grateful that she had never become addicted to drugs. Every time she broke a bone and the hospital gave her painkillers she thought about all the people out there addicted to fentanyl or oxy, and it gave her pause.
When she stepped onto the footy pitch in Edmunton that night, her teammates knuckled her head and crushed her in a hug that lifted the toes of her cleats off the grass. It felt good to be wanted.
Night footy had its own feel-good magic, when the lights were bright and the passes were clean. Of the twenty-four women on the roster this year, only two had children. Most mums couldn’t sacrifice every Saturday morning from April to October and two weeknights a week. Most mums had to watch their kids after work.
If Ronnie hadn’t lost custody of Rainbow, she wouldn’t have been able to play.
They ran a ten-on-ten scrimmage with four subs on either side.
Her teammate Ginny scored the first goal on a pass from her teammate Jay. Ginny sprinted by with a huge grin on her face, then screamed like a banshee and fell to her knees, eyes closed, mouth open, fists pumping.
Violent joy.
Ronnie had missed seeing it and feeling it. People who didn’t play competitive sports didn’t know what they were missing. What a rush it was to celebrate your victories loudly and unselfconsciously, to scream your success and be loved for it.
The best players on the team belonged to everyone. Their individual victories belonged to the team. Collective victory was a beautiful conceit. Footy was a game, but after a few minutes on the pitch Ronnie forgot.
Being here on the pitch under the spotlights felt like a homecoming, but she didn’t enjoy the scrimmage as much as she used to. Her body was out of practice, her footwork clumsy and slow.
The coach pulled her off to the side. “Come to night practices, but we’re going to keep you out of Saturday morning matches until mid-July.”
Before the accident that would have devastated her. She had things to do on Saturdays, like email landlords and try to find someone who would rent her an apartment or one side of a run-down duplex. Footy season wasn’t as important now that her team wasn’t depending on her to win the championship.
The social worker had sent in a letter of recommendation for her, which her lawyer had submitted to the judge. Ronnie had to keep her head down and stay out of trouble.
Her teammates stole the ball from her without breaking a sweat. Footy wasn’t as much fun when her back hurt and she sucked. She frowned, stretched for the umpteenth time, drank water on the sideline. She needed to be stronger.
Yesterday, Rainbow had announced out of the blue that she was switching schools from Gordonvale to Lionheart. Maude would hate that idea; it would mean more driving for Maude. The prospect of her upset ex sabotaging her custody hearing over something as petty as commuting was all she could think about. Worrying sucked. It didn’t come naturally to her.
At the beginning of July, she watched Mattie’s rugby union club team, the Hurricanes, play the Super Rugby Final against the Highlanders on the overhead screens at the pub alongside everyone else in Lionheart.
Mattie’s team lost. It was a Friday night, so Barney’s band played on the other side of the pub, in the quaint wooden function hall with the timber rafters and high windows. He and his bandmates played “Edge of Seventeen,” then the 1977 albumRumours, which Nev took as a personal affront, because that was the Wild Drovers’ thing first. “Bloody hell. This town isn’t big enough for two Fleetwood Mac cover bands. He’s doing this to spite me.”
Ronnie nursed a frothy golden pint of Carleton Mid, her first in a long time. “I hope you know how silly you sound right now.”
Gods, she had missed beer; it was like drinking bread. She took another sip, bubbles on her tongue. She set the pint glass down on the bar. When was Taylor’s graduation? Nev’s little sister was graduating the University of Auckland in early September. They had to make a plan for Ronnie to farmsit while Nev hopped over the ditch again.
“Are you going to Taylor’s graduation?”
Nev shook her head.
“What? Why not?” Ronnie frowned. “You have to go. Your mother’s dead. You’re all she’s got.”
Nev scoffed. “She has heaps of family over there.” She was drinking mid-range whiskey. “Besides, I can’t.” Nev looked around as if checking to make sure someone wasn’t there. “I promised to take Gunni to a doctor’s appointment.”
Someone else could do that. “I’ll take him.”
Nev shook her head.
Ronnie had a sinking feeling. “Why? Is it bad?”
Nev nodded. Ronnie swore. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that,” Nev said.
“I won’t.” The idea of their elderly German bandmate being sick distressed her, but she hadn’t given up on convincing Nev to go. “Kazi could take him.”
Nev tilted her head. “He doesn’t drive.”
“You can’t miss your only sister’s graduation. You’ll regret it forever. If it was me, I would want you to be there.”
