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Worry has lived with me for so long that the concern I feel for Gabriel is just another guest at an already at-capacity party. The psychologist I saw two hours ago told me that eventually this sort of thing breaks; that I’m less like a bucket emptying and filling and more like a dammed river at the point when the water overflows.
They’re still setting up for the presentation on the big TV I’m watching when Lucy, Margie’s eldest daughter, steps into the waiting room. I recognise her from photos around the house. She’s pretty, maybe thirty-five, with long blonde hair and Margie’s upturned nose. Despite living over an hour away in Rosebud, she’d got in the car as soon as the police contacted her. It’s almost two in the morning. It must be nice to have someone like that, someone who will put down everything just to be with you; to come running when they’re called.
Lucy sits beside me, smoothing her hands over her jeans. ‘You’re Noah, right?’
I nod. ‘Nice to meet you.’
I haven’t seen Margie since we disembarked from the ambulance. She’d been lucid but high on pain meds, and I was dealing with my own shit with a split lip and what was soon confirmed as an orbital fracture.
Lucy looks pointedly at the IV drip beside me. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’
‘TV in my room doesn’t work,’ I reply, gesturing to the large flat-screen in the waiting room. ‘Tennis.’
I missed so much of the match, but I saw how close it was. I saw how wrecked Gabriel was, how well he fought in the last few games, saw the pain in his eyes even as he stood up and kept going.
As soon as I’d got to the hospital, I’d contacted Victor with a lengthy recount on what was going on and why I wouldn’t make it to Gabriel’s match. He’d replied between sets withWe’ll call you after this is done.
The TV replays match highlights. I wish I could be there for him; to hold him in those narrow corridors and feel his body thrum against mine; to tell him everything’s going to be okay and that he playedso, sowell.
‘I’m going to stay with Mum for a bit, help her get back on her feet,’ Lucy says. ‘Mum mentioned you were planning to go away with your boyfriend.’
‘We were going to leave on Tuesday.’
Suddenly, Gabriel appears on the TV. He hobbles back onto the court. He has a clear limp, and as the camera pans down, I see that his entire foot is wrapped in bandages. Bernard hovers behind him, staying close as Gabriel ascends the staircase and stands beside Pejo Auer on the podium.
‘Where are you going?’ It’s clear she’s making light conversation to make me feel more comfortable, but I just really want to watch the ceremony. The lights have darkened in the arena and the president of the tennis association speaks into the microphone.
‘I’m not sure,’ I reply, and then get up to manually increase the volume on the television. ‘Sorry, I just really need to watch the ceremony.’ At Lucy’s strange look, I clarify, ‘That is my boyfriend.’ I gesture at the screen.
Lucy looks at me like my broken eyelid came with a side of concussion, which, well, it did. ‘I’m being for real. Gabriel is my boyfriend.’
‘Oh, yes, sure,’ she says, clearly humouring me.
Lucy gets up and fills two paper cups of water from the large bottle in the corner, handing one to me just as Gabriel takes the stage. I’m not really thirsty, but as soon as the camera zooms in on him, I swallow down a mouthful to dislodge the sudden ball that’s formed in my throat. He looks so incredibly beautiful. Curly hair sticks to his forehead and neck and his skin glows under the arena lights. It reminds me of the way he’d looked as we’d driven home from the beach, how he’d smiled as he’d placed his hand on my thigh while I drove, how he’d smelt of the sea and sunshine and happiness.
Gabriel accepts his trophy—a massive plate—and shakes the presenter’s hand. Then, with a big breath in, so deep I see his chest rise under his shirt, he steps to the microphone.
‘English is not my first language, so please forgive me if I don’t make sense,’ he begins. ‘For a long time, I have dreamed of this moment. I have dreamed of playing on a court like this and standing up at the end of the night with a trophy, and tonight, my dream came true.’
The crowd cheers. Gabriel continues, ‘Tomorrow, the newspapers will write that I lost the match. They’ll write about the scores and the play, and the number of trophies Pejo has won and how few I have. But what they won’t write about is how proud of myself I am right now.’
And then, Gabriel begins to cry. Fat, rolling tears. He looks at his trophy and says, ‘I am so proud of myself right now. I am so proud of who I have become in this tournament.’
The crowd cheers and I feel Lucy’s hand on my back, rubbing back and forth. Am I crying? God, I hope it doesn’t fuck up my stitches.
‘Thank you to my team, to my papa and my media manager, Victor. You had a lot to deal with this tournament.’
The camera pans to Victor, who is laughing through his tears.
‘Thank you to my friends and family, to my sponsors and, of course, to the Australian Open and Tennis Australia for putting on the tournament. Thank you to everyone who watched me play this year. I love playing in Australia, and I can’t wait to come back next year. Finally, thank you to Pejo. I grew up wanting to play you, and it was an honour to meet you in the finals. Next time, maybe you will not be so lucky, eh?’
Pejo claps his thanks as Gabriel lets out a deep, steadying breath and hitches the trophy on his hip. ‘This has been the hardest tournament of my life. I’m tired and I’m sore, so I’m going to take some time off for a bit. I don’t have anything else to say, so I guess I will see you next time.’
He lifts the trophy once more, and it must be heavy because his arms clearly tremble with the effort. Immediately, Bernard steps forward to help him down the steps off the stage. He’s probably in more pain than he’s letting on, but he stands, holding his second-place trophy, as Auer steps up to the microphone. He turns to look fondly at Gabriel, warmth shining in his brown eyes.
‘How to follow up a speech like that, huh?’
‘Stay right there,’ Gabriel says, even though I’m still hooked up to an IV and being monitored for a concussion, so I won’t be going anywhere for a few more hours, at least. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
