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“I’m so proud of her, but I just…feel like I’m being left behind.” Roy said, standing in the corner, arms crossed, and looking pissed off that he was talking about his feelings. But that was par for the course for Roy, Beard figured as he leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. While Higgins’s full attention was on Roy during this meeting of the Diamond Dogs, Beard’s was on Ted because Ted kept glancing to the assistant coach’s office.
“I understand how you’re feeling,” Higgins said. “Are you going on the holiday yourself?”
“That’s the worst part of it,” growled Roy.
“How so?” Ted asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I gave them to Jamie fucking Tartt. His dad’s been after him for giving the kick to Dani and I thought he and his mum could use a getaway.”
Beard mentally recorded the eighth glance to Nate’s old office since this meeting of the Diamond Dogs began. It was quick, but it definitely happened. “I think that was mighty fine of you to do.” Ted said, once his attention was back on Roy.
Beard narrowed his eyes. Something was…off. Something about the way Ted was holding himself. A stiffness in his body language maybe that contrasted with the oh so casual lean back into his chair. Maybe Higgins saw it too, because he turned to Ted and asked, “And how are you holding up, Ted?”
“Just fine, Higs.”
“I’m glad the media buzz is finally starting to die down. Hopefully by the time you hit the States next week it’ll be a thing of the past.”
“Fucking Nate,” grumbled Roy. Nate’s defection to Rupert's team made it obvious to most of the Richmond family just who leaked to the press about Ted’s panic attacks and Roy, the last of the coaching staff to catch on to it, seemed to take it particularly hard. Perhaps because he knew Nate the longest. “And to believe I let that rat get a free pass for kissing Keeley.”
Ted sat up. “Now Nate only did what he thought best.”
Beard couldn't help but snort at that. Ted shot him a look. It was a kind, but firm look that clearly read: I appreciate you but that doesn’t help.
The pair looked back at Roy, who looked about ready to commit a homicide, which once again, was not that unusual look when it came to Roy. But this homicidal look had more depth, more meaning. It was, to Beard, a work of art. Beard was glad he wasn’t the only seething with an internal rage about Nate’s betrayal anymore.
Ted raised an eyebrow. “Y’all, maybe it’s time we refocus on our strategy for next season.” Ted heaved himself out of the chair, grabbed a whiteboard marker and started to draw out a play the three coaches had been working through late yesterday. Beard noticed Ted’s hand was trembling slightly. He glanced over to Roy, caught his eyes, and shook his head slightly.
“Yeah. Strategy,” Roy spit out. Beard could almost see him swallow some profanity laced rant and Beard appreciated that. As much as he wanted to rage about it right now himself, it clearly wasn’t going to help Ted. Perhaps he and Roy could do beers at the pub later to get it out of their system.
Instead Roy began working with Beard and Ted to come up with some new plays. Higgins stayed, though he would normally take this as his cue to leave. Beard couldn’t help but wonder if this had anything to do with the conversation the two of them had yesterday, when Higgins asked Beard if Ted had been sleeping well.
“I just think Ted’s acting too normally,” Higgins had said. “It almost feels like, well...at the Man City game when he told us about his panic attacks. He was a little more willing to show us something besides his overflowing happiness but ever since the news of his panic attacks were leaked to the press, he’s been, well…”
“Game face,” Beard had supplied.
“Well, yes, I suppose so. A very cheery one at that. I know it seems strange to be concerned that someone is too chipper, but I have to say I’m concerned.”
“Why do you think he’s not sleeping then?” Beard asked.
“Ted’s branched out. Not only is he bringing in biscuits every morning, but other pastries as well.” Higgins sighed, “Not that I can complain. They’re delicious. What? Rebecca can’t eat it all herself. The point is, I think he’s been up late at night baking. This morning he brought in a Victoria Sponge. Simply divine, but a bit alarming.”
Beard shook himself and refocused on the present. Higgins was standing quietly by the windows, the locker room behind him. Ted was now at the whiteboard with Roy, discussing player positions. Beard narrowed in on Ted. His back was tense and he leaned just slightly more forward than normal. It was almost like Beard could see a faint vibration within him and he knew, just knew, it was coming.
Abruptly Beard stood and, as he did, he could see it hit Ted like a wave. The truth was, Beard had never seen a true panic attack before, though he had anticipated it for days. Ted grimaced and hunched over, hands clenching. There was movement, scuffling, all around him, but Beard’s focus was purely on Ted. By the time Beard reached him, Roy was already holding Ted by the arm, so Beard took the other arm and the pair guided Ted down towards the ground.
Ted’s eyes squeezed shut and his breath came in ragged, irregular gasps and gulps. Beard took Ted’s left hand, rubbing it to try and ease the clenching.
In his dark days, Beard would see people go on bad trips or worse, OD, and this was different, but far too much the same. His eyes widened, unmoored. Ted was always the consistent one, the safe harbor. The one that rescued him from those dark days. To see him like this….
“Fucking hell,” Roy muttered supportively and took to rubbing Ted’s back.
“Coach Lasso,” Higgins said from just above the trio and sounding impossibly calm. “I’d like you to try doing some slow breathes, four seconds in, hold it for seven, then eight seconds out.”
Ted started wheezing something over and over again that sounds vaguely like “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can and we’re going to help. We’ll start shorter and build up to it. Come on. Breath in 1, 2; hold 1, 2, 3; and breath out 1, 2, 3, 4.”
Beard pulled Ted’s hand towards his own chest and held it there, as Beard also followed Higgin’s instructions, hoping that by feeling his own slow breaths it would help Ted calm his. For several minutes, Ted continued gulping down air irregularly, despite the obvious effort he was making to follow Higgins’ instructions. Undeterred, Higgins persisted.
“You’re going to fucking get through this,” Roy’s encouragement coming out in his typical growl.
Ted shook his head.
“Hey, Coach. Coach,” Beard said, to get Ted’s focus. “Bird by bird.”
The corner of Ted’s mouth twitched up and Beard counted that as a win. All three breathed along to Higgins’ counting and, as Ted started to reliably follow along, Higgins extended it to four seconds in, held for seven, and out for eight. Huddled together, Beard and Roy with their hands on Ted, breathing in, breathing out, until it was clear it had passed. As Higgins’ voice faded, they all just continued to sit there for a moment, breathing.
“I should, I should just go head home, ah. Sorry.” Ted mumbled. “Sorry about…”
“You’re good.” Roy said. “Stay here a bit more.”
Ted didn’t seem to have the energy to disagree. Beard sat back and observed his friend for a moment, categorizing the linger effects of the panic attack: the half-lidded eyes and vacant expression, the sweaty hair now falling in his face, body taut and hunched over, and the faint tremor Beard could still feel in Ted’s hand. On edge and spent.
He and Roy exchange a look. Both in agreement they look up to Higgins. Higgins nods, “I’ll get the car.”
“I can walk,” Ted said woodenly.
“No, you fucking can’t,” Roy replied. Despite his typical gruffness, Roy was surprisingly gentle with Ted as he put the hand he was holding in Ted’s lap before letting it go and standing up. Sometimes Beard forgot he had taken care of Phoebe since she was an infant and was more than capable of being gentle. Roy held out his hand to Higgins. “Let me start it up. Give me five minutes to clear out the parking lot.”
The corner of Beard’s lip twitches. He has no doubt that Roy will succeed in clearing out the parking lot.
Higgins helped pull Roy up, then handed him the keys. As Roy stormed out, ready to put the fear of god into any late afternoon bystanders who happened to have the misfortune of lingering around the parking lot, Higgins pulled out Ted’s backpack and shuffled a few things into it.
“Are you thirsty, Ted?” Higgins asked from above.
“Ted?” Beard prompted when there was no immediate reply.
Ted gave a slow nod. Higgins passed a water bottle down to Beard, who held it out to Ted. Ted stiffly let go of Beard’s hand before using both of his to clasp the bottle and take a slow drink.
“I think it’s probably clear to go now,” Higgins said, shouldering the bag. Beard stood and then both of them helped pull Ted to his feet. Beard was thankful to see Ted was steady on his own two feet, a contrast to Beard’s experience with drug addicts, but he didn’t like the way his friend hunched over, shoving his hands into his pockets. Ted started shuffling to the door. Higgins and Beard exchanged quick looks before joining him.
The walk to the car and the subsequent ride to Ted’s apartment, or rather flat as they were called in the UK, was in silence. They all seemed to know their places without prior discussion: Beard sitting with Ted in the back while Roy sat next to Higgins in the front. It was only when they got to Ted’s door that he broke the silence.
“Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it,” Ted said, looking down at the ground.
Roy gave a little growl. “If you're trying to politely tell us to shove off it ain’t workin’ gaffer so open up and let us in.”
Beard’s shocked to see what a mess his place is once they all filed in. Sure, Beard wasn’t the neatest person himself, but Ted was. When the two were roommates in college, Ted kept their dorm perfectly organized. Here, Ted’s kitchen was piled with days worth of dirty dishes, leftover food and takeout boxes littered the counter. The living room wasn’t much better, with clothes strewn over furniture, empty plates, and empty bottles of beer and liquor.
Beard expected some kind of (unnecessary) apology about the state of his apartment from Ted, but instead he sat down heavily on the couch and stared at his hands which he flexed slowly. Beard moved a couple newspapers over so he could sit down next to him.
“Do we have to renegotiate our contract?”
Ted turned and gave him a questioning look.
“I thought I was supposed to be the quiet one.”
That got Beard a grin.
“Look, y’all I’m real sorry about the state of things here. Maybe it’ll be best you if you-”
“I said we ain’t going,” Roy said.
“Let me just-” Higgins started grabbing plates. Roy took that as a cue and started gathering empties. Beard hesitated for a moment, then fetched Ted’s laundry basket in the hall leading to Ted’s bedroom.
“Sit the fuck down,” Beard could hear Roy saying as he emerged back into the living room.
Ted was now standing with a fist full of old newspapers in his hand, because of course he was. Beard walked by and took them from him, gently pushed Ted back down onto the couch, and continued on to the kitchen where he recycled them. Satisfied that Ted was still sitting (and looking a little bewildered to have them all cleaning his living room) Beard gathered all the laundry into the basket and tossed the basket in the hallway to be dealt with later.
With the room now cleaned, everyone settled in. Beard looked at Ted. Ted was looking down at his feet. He looked at Roy, who glanced at Ted, then him. Beard nodded slightly. Roy smirked, which made Beard chuckle. Higgins looked at all three of them.
“So…hmm.” said Higgins.
Roy found one of Ted’s books and turned it over to read the back cover.
“Should we put on a movie?” Higgins asked.
“That’s a mighty fine idea,” Ted spoke up and Beard passed him the remote.
As Ted started hopping through channels, Roy got up and announced that he was getting food. Ted started to get up to help, but Higgins and Beard stopped him.
A few moments later, Roy shouted back, “There’s a fucking ton of biscuits in here! Holy fuck.”
Shortly after they settled on watching “On the Waterfront,” Roy came back with several bowls of spaghetti and meatballs. And by the time the credits rolled, they had all finished eating and Ted was leaning heavily on Beard, fast asleep.
“Should we wake him and get him in bed?” Higgins asked as he collected bowls.
“Nah, the couch is comfortable enough. If we wake him now, he might be up all night,” Roy said.
“He can’t sleep like that,” Higgins countered. “He’ll be sore in the morning and besides, eventually Beard will want to get up.”
Beard shrugged, indicating he could spend the whole night like this if he had too.
“Nah, I’ve got plenty of experience moving Phoebe. Watch.” Roy got up and, with slow deliberate movements, carefully shifted the slumbering Ted off Beard so that he could shimmy out. Then, with Beard’s help, the two managed to stretch Ted out on the couch without waking him. All three stood back for a moment to admire Roy’s handiwork.
Higgins nodded his approval then turned to the other two. “You know, I had never seen a panic attack before. It looks utterly exhausting.”
“How’d you know what to do?” Roy whispered as he leaned down to work off Ted’s shoes.
“Beard and I found some books on it.” Higgins explained.
“Wouldn’t mind borrowing one,” Roy said as he got the last shoe off.
Beard rummaged through his backpack until he found the book on anxiety disorders he finished a couple days ago and passed it to Roy, then he took out the book on Stonehedge that he was reading for himself. Roy gave a soft grunt (which stood in for thank you) and opened it up.
“If you don’t mind, I’m just going to send a quick message to Julie and then tidy up the kitchen,” Higgins said.
Beard nodded and took a seat on the floor in front of the couch.
“Plenty chairs,” Roy whispered, looking up from the book.
Beard looked behind him, where inches away Ted slept. Roy grunted again and returned to the book. Aside from the soft clatter of Higgins putting away dishes as quietly as he could in the kitchen or the occasional flipping of a page, the apartment grew quiet. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay that way. After several minutes Ted groaned and started shifting behind Beard. He turned to find Ted’s face pinched with pain or worry.
“Coach?” Beard asked as he grabbed Ted’s now flailing hands, so as not to get accidentally punched.
Ted mumbled something incomprehensible.
“You're good Coach. You’re in your living room,” Beard said in a soft and steady voice.
“Is he having a nightmare?” Higgins, donning an apron, popped out of the kitchen.
“Yeah, he is,” Roy replied. “Should we wake him?”
“No, I think he’s settling down,” Beard said.
Roy watched thoughtfully, as Beard talked Ted down until he was once again sleeping peacefully. Roy gave a soft grunt and turned back to his book before Beard could ask him to elaborate. After a beat, Higgins returned to the kitchen. After a bit of awkward maneuvering, Beard worked out a position where he could, with some difficulty, still manage to read his book and hold Ted’s hand, though it involved leaving against the coffee table rather than the couch, which was less than ideal.
He and Roy read while Higgins finished up the kitchen and placed the basket of laundry into the wash machine. He was just taking off the apron as he walked back into the living room, when Ted began whimpering in his sleep.
“Oh dear, not again,” Higgins said, taking a step closer.
“Hey coach, we’re not at practice,” Beard said, responding to what sounded like the word “Jamie.”
“Maybe if we move him to his bed…”
Roy got up and walked over to the bookcase. “Last time when we start talking, he settles back down. I don’t think he likes the silence.”
Roy picked out one of Ted’s books and took a seat near Ted and Beard. He opened it up and started to read: “I grew up around a father and a mother who read every chance they got, who took us to the library every Thursday night to load up on books for the coming week. Most nights after dinner my father stretched out on the couch to read, while my mother sat with her book in the easy chair and the three of us kids each retired to our own private reading stations…”
Beard’s lips quirked to a little grin when he recognized the book. Sure enough, Ted had already grown still, his face moments ago pinched with stress was already relaxing, his clenching hands growing limp and heavy again. And so they all sat there, listening as Roy read and watching Ted sleep, while Beard held Ted’s hand and Higgins, having accomplished the cleaning, just rested, until Roy’s voice began to grow hoarse. After a time, Roy stopped and closed the book. They all sat in silence.
“I think he’s truly out this time,” Higgins finally ventured, his voice low. He glanced out the window; it had grown dark long ago. “Should we…?”
Roy and Beard exchanged a couple of looks, which ended with a nod from Beard.
Watching the silent conversation, Higgins said, “If that’s decided, why don’t we move the armchair by the couch, so at least Beard could get off the floor?”
Roy and Higgins moved the armchair next to the couch and then the coffee table so that Beard could put his feet up and have at least some chance of sleeping while he held Ted’s hand through the night. Once Beard was comfortably settled and both he and Ted were given blankets, Roy handed Beard the Lamott book, just in case.
Turning to Higgins, Roy said, “Yeah, mate, let’s head home.” Turning to Beard he added, “Cheers.”
Beard gave Roy a salute then Higgins a wave with his free hand and watched them leave.
In the dark, Beard gave Ted’s hand a faint squeeze. “Bird by bird, coach. Bird by bird.”