CHAPTER 3:
April 2009:
Keith:
It was a couple of weeks later that I arrived at the oval to coach the boys slightly later than usual. They'd already started to dribble in. I was about to head over to them and get started setting up when I heard a yell, and turned to find a large, angry man striding up behind me. His fists were clenched. Not a good sign.
"You, you fucking faggot!" he yelled. I sighed inwardly and stood my ground.
"Can I help you?" I asked coldly.
"You shut your fucking face, you bloody cock-sucking fairy!" he yelled. I was distantly aware that there were other parents around, that the kids were stopping and staring, that blood was slowly but surely heading for my cheeks. "My own son!" he yelled and I blinked. I had no idea whose father this was, but he obviously didn't like his son associating with 'one of us'. "You keep your fucking queer hands away from him!"
"Are you accusing me of something?" I asked him coolly. I should have realised that this was not the man who backed down. I should have realised that this was a man who saw gayness as a threat to his masculinity, and apparently to his son's as well.
"Damn right I am, you arse-fucker! You leave my son alone! You hear?" I felt my temper rising.
"I don't know which boy your son is, but I-" I began firmly. I wanted to yell back, but I was aware that I was supposed to be a role model for these kids and I wasn't going to enter into a fight like this.
"You been after that many of them, you sick son of a bitch?" he asked me with a gleam in his eye. Ah, shit. "You hear that?" he yelled at the other parents. "You hear what he's doing to your sons?"
"Now you listen to me," I said loudly, deciding that this was the point at which I should stand up for myself and raising a hand to point at him. He turned back to look at me. He'd used the movement to disguise his real intent. He took a swing at me, I didn't react fast enough so he connected with my eye. I saw stars, swung blindly as I lost my balance, felt my knuckles hit soft flesh and hard bone and something sharp. I stumbled back until I found my footing, blinked and saw (with my good eye) that I'd hit him in the mouth. He spat blood. Oh shit. Not good. He roared, blood leaking from his mouth and launched himself at me.
It took five other parents to get him off.
Half an hour later we were at the police station.
Guess I'm lucky it wasn't the hospital.
John interviewed me. I told him what happened, trying not to shake. It had upset me more than I realised. I'd been in town for two months, and so far everyone had been really nice. I hadn't had any comments or eggs thrown at my house or any problems I might have expected in a small town at all. I guess I'd thought by now that there wouldn't be any.
He let me leave his office and I walked down the hall to leave the station. McGuiness had the angry father in cuffs since he was refusing to cooperate, and thoughtfully waited until I was out of the way to take him to John's office.
The hallway was sort of narrow and I didn't fancy walking right by him there.
I exited the station and stuck my hands in my pockets. I was pretty sure I had a shiner. My knuckles were cut up. My ribs felt pretty badly bruised and my right shin stung like blazes. But my dignity was the worst hurt. I debated whether to head back and see how training was going, or whether to just go home and hide.
Then I noticed a skinny figure sitting on the curb.
"Joel." I said, sat next to him, pretending that didn't hurt as much as it did. He was the tall shy boy I'd had my suspicions about. And surely there wasn't any other reason he was sitting in the gutter outside the police station on his own. It was a pity to have my suspicions proved right like this. He looked pretty shaken up. "Sorry I hit your dad." I offered. He managed a quick grin before he looked away.
"I came out to him. Today." He blurted. I nodded. That made a whole lot of sense.
"You alright?" I asked. He shrugged.
"I didn't think he'd go mental, you know? And I
did
tell him you never- I mean- that you're not-" I cut him off.
"Yeah. It's ok." He rested his chin back on his knees.
"I've never met anyone else who was... you know – gay – before. And everyone just accepted you, you know?" he said softly, staring determinedly across the road.
"Yeah." I agreed. "But I'm not from around here. I'm a strange exotic creature from the city." He smiled sadly and closed his eyes.
"Is it always like that?" he asked.
"Sometimes." I said. I had to be honest. "Not everyone is open minded. Doesn't matter what century it is. Mostly though, the people who aren't ok with it just avoid you."
"Everyone's going to know, now." he said thickly.
"Yeah." I said gently. "But you know what? That's the hardest part. Once you're out then you don't have to worry about that anymore. You don't have to keep worrying about how your friends and family will react. You get it over and done with and then you can get on with living your life and everyone else can damn well deal with it or not."
"Mum cried."
"Mine hit me with a silver serving spoon on my ear. Two stitches." I said. He looked at me with wide eyes. I laughed. "She's ok with it now." I told him. "She didn't mean to hurt me, she was just shocked. To be fair, I probably shouldn't have come out while she was serving Christmas dinner to the extended family. She was serving peas over my shoulder and I just blurted it out. The spoon was only about fifteen centimetres away, but she panicked because she drew blood and took me off to the hospital. Then she nearly broke my fingers holding my hand. Parents are like that. They love you no matter what. He'll come round. It might take a while, but they'll most likely come round." He nodded but didn't look up. He probably suspected what I already knew- that it might not happen. That there wasn't always a happy ending. "Here." I said, pulling a pen from my jacket and finding an old receipt in my pocket. I scribbled my phone number and my email address on the back. "If you want to talk about anything, then let me know, yeah?" he took the piece of paper and nodded.
"Thanks."
I offered him a smile, then got up and began to make my way home.
Like this wouldn't light up the town with gossip.
I got some frozen veggies out of the freezer when I got home and iced my eye. It gave me a massive headache, so I took a couple of asprin as well. I was lying on my couch watching tv with a bag of peas on my head when my doorbell rang. I got to my feet and shuffled to answer it.
John stood there, looking slightly awkward. He was wearing dark jeans and a nice shirt, looked like he'd showered and shaved. He was so luscious I forgot to breathe.
"Hi." I said stupidly. My blood wasn't in my brain at that point.
