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“Because I was embarrassed,” Hayden said. “Why do you think? I was humiliated. That’s the point. Also,” he went on, shaking it off, because he was not telling them about that ambulance ride—there was gay-bashing, and then there was bashing by gays, and he wasn’t sure which was worse—“Luke is playing again almost as soon as we’re back, and the next week, too, and I want to watch.”
“I’ll be on the bench,” Luke said. “For the first game, anyway, as my match fitness will be questionable, just off the plane. You may get to see me play thirty minutes, though.”
“That’s all right,” Hayden said. “I’ll watch you on the bench. I just realized—I’m a rugby WAG. Who knew? They’re going to have to come up with a new word for me.”
“What’s a WAG?” Casey asked.
“Wives and girlfriends,” Isaiah said. “Like Mum was. Uncle Hayden will be a wife and boyfriend, he means. Wait, a husband and boyfriend. A HAB.” He laughed.
“Can’t wait,” Hayden said. “Paris Racing scarf, d’you reckon, Rhys? Pale-blue and white stripes? Fetching.”
“Very fetching,” Rhys agreed, that smile lurking again. “Good on ya,” he told Luke. “Good to have somebody in the stands. Is that a first?”
“Yeh,” Luke said, the color creeping into his ears and cheeks.
“And after that,” Hayden said, “in more announcing, in July, when Luke’s season is over, I’m going back for two wonderful weeks. July in Paris? That’s a time anybody would want to be there, and then, Luke won’t be playing. Music festivals. Roses and roller coasters in the Parc Bagatelle. The palace gardens at Versailles, and the Cabaret at midnight. I’m going to make him be a tourist with me, because I want to see absolutely everything.”
“You could go to the top of the Eiffel Tower,” Isaiah said.
“We could,” Hayden said. “We definitely could.”
“Getting a bit ahead of yourself, surely,” Craig said.
“Am I?” Hayden glanced at Luke, feeling his spark dimming. His dad had that effect. “Maybe.”
“No,” Luke said. “Or maybe—why not get ahead of ourselves? In rugby, at least, you plan to win. You don’t plan for what you’ll do if you lose. Reckon that’s not a bad outlook. You could even learn a bit of French, Hayden. You’ve got seven months until July.”
“Not always much stability in these relationships, from what I know,” Craig said. “To say the least. I wouldn’t buy your ticket if I were you.”
Luke’s ears were going red again. “He can buy his ticket.”
“Dad,” Zora said. “No.”
“Could be we’ll have to prove you wrong,” Hayden said. “What will you say, I wonder, if Luke comes back here once he retires? Will you still be telling me we’re bound to break up, maybe cite some study you read about it? I’m curious. Is it that we’ll get bored with each other? I’m not going to get bored, and I’m not boring, either.”
“No,” Luke said, smiling a little now, and otherwise looking like a very large and extremely well-grounded boulder. “Safe to say you’re not boring.”
“Give the ones you love wings to fly, roots to come back, and reasons to stay,” Hayden said. “That’s the Dalai Lama. That’s what I want. That’s what I think I’ve got. Finally. Luke’s got wings to fly already, and I’m going to do my best to make those wings beautiful. I’m going to do my best to give him a reason to stay, too.”
“I don’t know about the Dalai Lama,” Luke said, “but I know that I’m coming back to New Zealand at some point. Decided that this week.”
Hayden felt his knees going weak again, for a different reason this time. “You are?” They hadn’t talked about the future, not beyond July, for obvious reasons. That it was too soon. Much too soon. Far too soon.
“Yeh,” Luke said. “I am. I like it here. I fit here.”
“Well, not entirely,” Craig said.
Luke turned his head and stared at him, and Hayden wouldn’t have wanted to be at the other end of that stare. “How don’t I fit?”
“Well, obviously,” Craig said.
“Obviously what?” Luke asked. “Because I’m half English and we beat the All Blacks last meeting? Yeh, that could give them pause, but if the boys could have a beer with us afterward anyway, reckon the rest of the country may forgive me, too.”
“He means because you’re gay,” Isaiah said. “New Zealand isn’t just for straight people, Grandad. It’s for everybody. If you’d learned the anthem in Maori, you’d know, because that’s what it says, but I guess you’re probably too old.”
“How come?” Casey asked. “Dad’s old, and he knows it in Maori.”
Rhys smiled, and Isaiah said, “Uncle Rhys isn’t old old, though, not like Grandad. He’s only about forty or fifty or something. Plus, he’s Maori, like us, so of course he knows how to sing it in Maori.”
