Just This Once (33 page)

“Just glad the World Cup’s being held in Aussie, not farther
away this time,” Hemi said. “At least I can be here a day or two every week.”

“You have to stay over there the whole time, then,
otherwise?” Hannah asked. “You said something like that, I remember,” she said
to Drew. “The training must be pretty intense.”

“It’s a major, the World Cup. Only happens once every four
years. It’ll be hard yakka. Two practices a day. The pool games are one thing,”
Drew explained. “But once you’re into the knockout rounds, you have to keep
improving, three games in a row, if you want to win. Everyone has to be fit,
mentally and physically. That takes a fair bit of training and focus.”

“Not to mention keeping the boys in the hotel, making sure
none of them is slipping out, getting on the sauce,” Hemi put in. “The joys of
being the skipper, eh. It’s a lot of pressure on the young boys. And the
media’s always watching as well.”

“You have so much support from the public, though,” Hannah
said. “I’ve never experienced anything like it. All the flags on houses and
cars. And it hasn’t even started yet. It isn’t just men, either. I’ve been
surprised. I went to the doctor last week, and the staff at the clinic had
decorated the front desk with black and white balloons and an All Blacks flag.
Even the kindergarten up the road has a huge banner out front made by all the
kids. Have you seen that, Drew? ’Go the Mighty All Blacks.’ By four-year-olds.
I’d think that would mean they’d be forgiving, if something did go wrong.”

Drew and Hemi looked at each other and laughed ruefully. “Watch
a lot of sport, do you?” Hemi asked with a grin. “As long as it’s all ka pai,
eh. As long as we’re winning, and nothing’s gone wrong. But as soon as there’s
an injury that knocks out a key player, or as soon as one of the boys does go
on the piss, or, God forbid, we lose a pool match—which has never happened yet,
by the way—you’ll see the panic start. That’s the coaches’ job—and Drew’s. Keep
things on an even keel, keep the boys focused on getting themselves right for
Saturday. Keep them from looking past the next game.”

“Not just mine, mate,” Drew objected. “There’s a good bunch
of leaders on this team.”

“Reckon you’re the one they’re scared of disappointing,”
Hemi said.

“All that support,” Reka explained to Hannah. “It’s lovely.
But it’s also that much more pressure. When you’re an All Black, you’re
carrying the whole country on your shoulders. And they can’t play for you, can
they.”

“Do they really care that much?” Hannah wondered. “The whole
country?”

Reka smiled. “Wait and see.”

When Reka got up to clear the table at the end of the meal,
Hemi forestalled her. “You’re tired. Go sit down for a bit. Take Hannah with
you, keep you company. Drew and I can wash up. Can’t go a whole night without
talking about footy anyway. Give us a chance to do it without boring you.”

Drew rose to help, and Reka laughed. “Get a photo of that,
Hannah. You can sell it to the papers.”

“Thanks, though,” she told her husband gratefully. “I
wouldn’t mind a bit of a rest.”

“So,” Hemi grinned as he joined his wife on the couch again
some time later, pulling her up against him. “Have you got Hannah’s life sorted
yet?”

“I keep trying,” Reka admitted. “But she’s too cagey for me.
Keeps asking me about my kids instead. It’s not fair. Bound to distract me,
isn’t she.”

“She’s good at that,” Drew agreed, sitting with Hannah.
“Likes to keep the conversation off herself.”

“Never mind,” Hemi consoled his wife. “You can still push
the kids and me about. That’ll have to do you.”

“It’ll be good to have another name on my wristband, these
next weeks,” he told Drew, resting his hand briefly on his wife’s swollen
belly. “Sweet as, eh.”

“Do you mean where you wrap your wrists?” Hannah wondered.
“Do you write things on there, then?”

“Most of the boys do. Especially the ones with families,”
Hemi explained. “Got the names of their partners, their kids on there. Reminds
them who they’re playing for.”

“You play for your kids and your wife?” Hannah asked. “What
does that mean, exactly?”

“Hannah’s dad died when she was young,” Drew told Hemi.
“These sorts of things are a bit of a mystery to her.”

“My wife and kids give me the incentive to go out and play
well. They’re my inspiration,” Hemi said, taking Reka’s hand. “Not sure it
works that way with women.”

“I’ve been working for a long time,” Hannah mused. “But even
though I had some responsibility for my brother and sister,” she said, ignoring
Drew’s snort at her description, “I never thought of myself as working for
them. It was separate. If anything, I have to admit, it felt more like a
conflict. Almost a burden, trying to think about them and also about everything
else I had to do. Trying to juggle everything. It doesn’t feel that way for
you? Like a . . . an extra weight? The responsibility?”

Hemi shook his head firmly. “Maybe men need something beyond
themselves to remind us that it’s not all about us. Reckon we’re more selfish.
We need somebody to work for. In my case, somebody to play for. When we’re
busting a gut, trying to grind out a win, and I’m feeling ready to chuck it in,
I look down at my kids’ names, at Reka’s name. And it reminds me, this is why
I’m doing this. Gives me strength.”

“Wow,” Hannah said quietly. “I never knew that.”

“I knew it,” Reka put in. “But I love to hear it.” She
smiled mistily at her husband.

“On that note,” Drew said, pulling Hannah to her feet, “we’ll
leave the two of you to get some rest, and I’ll take Hannah home. Monday’ll be
here soon enough.”

“I hope it’s all right, my taking these days off,” Hannah
told Kathryn the next week at work. “I know it’s a lot, almost every Monday for
the next couple of months. Please let me know if any of these days won’t work
out.”

“No worries,” Kathryn assured her with a smile. “The World
Cup only comes along every four years. We understand you want to be there.”

“I was wondering, though,” she added in a casual tone that immediately
put Hannah on guard. “Would you be willing to go over to Sydney a few days
before the final, and put in a few hours in the VIP area of the Fanzone each
day? Of course, that’s assuming the All Blacks make it to the end.”

As Hannah mentally winced at the thought of the heavy
expectations on the team, Kathryn continued. “We want to give away some
products, raise the company’s profile with the international VIPs. I’ll be
there myself, and I thought you might be able to lend a hand as well. You can
schedule the time when it’s most convenient for you, of course.”

Hannah agreed. What else could she do, after all, when
Kathryn had been so accommodating of her request for time off so that she could
be with Drew after most of the games? When Susannah called her for their weekly
chat that evening, though, she couldn’t help complaining to her friend.

“I know the only reason she wants me there is so she can
‘mention’ to people that I’m Drew’s girlfriend. It’s so uncomfortable. Like I’m
some kind of a secondhand celebrity. When really, so what? What do I have to do
with anything? I’m certainly not going to introduce anyone to him,” she
shuddered.

“How’s that been going, at work?” Susannah asked her
curiously. “You haven’t said anything for a long time.”

“It’s not that much of an issue at this point,” Hannah
admitted. “After the gala, when that big picture showed up in the paper, I
couldn’t very well keep saying there was nothing in it. I suppose people here
have got used to it, though. I don’t share any details, just focus on work. And
there’s plenty of that to do. It’s so busy. Really exciting too, getting ready
for the expansion to the U.S. market.”

“So taking the job was the right choice,” Susannah prompted.

“It was. I work just as hard while I’m there, but I’ve been
able to have a life outside the office, too. I didn’t realize how much I was
missing out on. Now I actually go out for lunch and coffee with people
sometimes. To discuss work, of course. But I also don’t have to choose between
eating my lunch and working out. I’m not trying to cram everything, including
dinner, into a couple hours each evening. I even have a social life. I think
the company Christmas party might be a bit more fun than the TriStyle one too.”

“I’m guessing you get fewer guys hitting on you at work,”
Susannah suggested. “That there won’t be anyone at the party listing their
dimensions.”

“You’re right about that. It’s a bit odd, actually. It’s
like I have some kind of ‘taken’ sign on me now. Very different from the way it
was when I first got here. They must have had some interesting ideas about
American women. Now, the guys are so respectful, it’s as if I’ve aged 20
years.”

“I haven’t had the chance to meet Drew yet,” Susannah
pointed out. “But from what I’ve seen online, I can see why. He looks like he
could take somebody’s head off. And eat it.”

“He’s not like that, though,” Hannah protested. “He’s
actually pretty quiet off the field. He doesn’t throw his weight around at
all.”

“Does he have to?” Susannah countered. “And I’ll bet he’d be
in someone’s face pretty quickly if he thought he needed to be, from what
you’ve said.”

“Probably true,” Hannah admitted. “It’s a bit like a dog
pack, isn’t it? And no question,” she sighed, “he’s an alpha dog.”

“I just called to check on you,” Hannah told Reka two weeks
later. “Hemi said the baby was still hanging in there, when I saw him in
Melbourne the other day. Not much further to go, anyway.”

“I hope you’re right,” Reka sighed. “Wish I could’ve been
there, the past couple weeks. You went to both games, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and they were so exciting,” Hannah said. “Of course,
it helped that they won both of them. But I can see how the World Cup is
different. The intensity level of the games, right from the beginning, from the
haka—I wasn’t expecting that. I’d seen them doing it before, during the
Championship. But wow, are they intense now. The way Hemi prowls around when
he’s leading it, it’s like he really
is
sending them into war.”

“Your boy’s dead fierce too,” Reka laughed. 

“I know. It gave me a chill, the first time I saw it. I’d
seen his Laser Eyes before, the way he stares somebody down, but in the haka,
it’s pretty scary.”

“That’s how they get themselves right for the game,” Reka
explained. “And if it intimidates the other team, all the better.”

“Wish I could’ve been there with you,” she said again. “Hemi
said you weren’t going to be there this week, eh.”

“I can’t make it. I have a meeting in Wellington on Monday
morning.”

“How about coming over, then, watching with me?” Reka asked.
“Assuming the baby doesn’t come before then. I could use the company. Getting
to that uncomfortable point now.”

“Of course I will,” Hannah said immediately. “It would be so
much better for me too.”

“I have a hard time watching alone,” she admitted to Reka
that Sunday night during the halftime break. “I get so anxious. I know everyone
assumes they’ll win these pool games, and they’re favored tonight again, though
Samoa is playing well, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Reka agreed. “They’re a good side. A lot of
these boys play during the regular season for overseas teams. They’ll put up a
good fight.”

“Really, though, the thought of their losing isn’t even what
scares me so much,” Hannah mused. “It’s more that somebody will get hurt.”

“Somebody?” Reka smiled at her. “Or somebody special?”

Hannah flushed. “All right, I worry more about Drew, I’ll
admit it. I know he’s tough, but I still hate to see him throw himself in there
the way he does. He’s always at the bottom of the pile. And I can tell it’s
rough in there. He takes such a beating.”

Reka laughed. “Yeh, he’s likely to be at the bottom of the
ruck. That’s because he gets there first. That’s his position, to do that. And
he has to charge in there. Has to lead from the front.”

“I wanted to ask you about that, that leadership thing,”
Hannah ventured. “I know we were talking about this when Drew and I were here
for dinner. But it’s become even crazier since then, the way the whole
country’s focused on the All Blacks and the World Cup. I had no idea it would
be like this. I counted 14 pictures of Drew in the paper one day. And of
course, a lot of the other players too,” she added quickly, hoping Reka
wouldn’t think she was boasting on Drew’s behalf. “But it’s like he isn’t even
a person. Maybe more so even than the others. Like he’s some kind of symbol. Or
public property.  It makes me feel really strange.”

“He’s been out in front of the ABs for a fair few years
now,” Reka explained. “And it’s his mana.”

“His what?”

“You haven’t heard that? The power of his spirit. Mana’s a
sort of natural authority. Prestige, I suppose you’d call it. Hard to describe
mana, but it’s important to us. To Maori, but to the rest of New Zealand as
well. And Drew has huge mana. What it means in his case is that the boys want
to walk out there behind him. Want to do their best, live up to his example.
It’s his team, isn’t it. Not so much because of what he says. It’s more about
what he does. He’ll be the first one with his boots on, warming up. Trains the
hardest too. That’s why he’s so . . . so beloved. And the fact that he says so
little about himself, that he’s a humble bloke, that just adds to his mana.
It’s not something you can claim. It’s obvious to everyone, or you don’t have
it.”

The game started again, but Hannah watched the second half
without much concentration. She said her goodbyes as soon as the final whistle
sounded on another All Blacks victory, and made her thoughtful way home. She
moved into her bedroom, pulling off her shirt mechanically. Then sank
half-dressed onto the bed, her hands tucked under her thighs, staring at the
rug.