13th September 2022
When he didn't arrive this morning with her biscuits, she was naturally concerned but did not think too much of it. Ted's priority isn't her. He has a football team to coach and maybe he has just not had a chance to bake them. The team played away in Manchester over the weekend, and they only got back yesterday lunchtime. He then had to have a debrief with Roy and Beard before heading home – Rebecca shouldn't expect anything from him that isn't purely professional.
But then when she looked out onto the training pitch to see the team going through their drills with Ted nowhere in sight, that is when her concern turned into heavy worry. Things come up, of course they do, but to not be told anything doesn't sit right with her which is why she stormed down the manager's office once training was over. Roy was already leaving, giving her a nod as he went, so it just left Beard occupying the office. Usually when she is in there with him, he is reading, or swatting up on another team but instead he was sitting staring at his locked phone on the desk, as if he was willing for someone to contact him. "Where's Ted?" Rebecca immediately asked, not bothering with a greeting because she knew that he wouldn't care.
It wasn't his reply which caused her to spiral but the flash of panic across his face. Beard is usually a man who is so stoic; she suspects that he would be a brilliant poker player for this reason, but in that moment, he briefly showed her the anxiety he was experiencing. "He's sick. Will be back tomorrow." Is what he said, and she decided to not press further.
Instead, she straightaway headed to his flat.
That's where she is now, well, she is standing outside having pushed the buzzer for a fifth time, looking up at the closed blinds above. Maybe he is sleeping, and she should respect that he is unwell and go home herself. However there is something about the whole situation which is making her uneasy. Rebecca shrugs one of her bag straps off her shoulder and reaches inside in search of the keys she knows are in there somewhere. She isn't sure why she likes to always have them on her, it started after his panic attack in Liverpool, but she hasn't actually ever been into the flat. She just pays for it. There is a sense of achievement when her hand finds them, and the sound of a jingle reaches her ears. She doesn't even hesitate before letting herself in, feeling like she is on a mission as she marches up the stairs in search of her moustached friend.
The flat is a mess.
Every surface in the kitchen has some kind of dirty utensil on: plates, mugs, glasses, a few pans along with mountains of cutlery. Her nose turns up at the sight and she makes a mental note to start sending her cleaner around here on a weekly basis. She then starts to tidy herself without another thought, needing to make some kind of change to this grim setting, even if it is not her place. If Ted really is ill, then the last thing he needs is to have to sort all this out. She has started to stack a few plates and take them to the sink but spotting a razor in it with the slightest trace of blood on the blade has her paling and bile rises in her throat. Ted. She needs to find Ted. "Ted!" She calls out and discards the plates back onto the side with a clatter. She moves around his flat with great purpose, ready to burst into his bedroom if absolutely necessary but she doesn't get that far. "Ted…" She gloomily murmurs and takes the few remaining paces slowly to his side.
Ted is slumped on the floor in the hallway leading to his bedroom, his knees drawn up to his torso with his head buried in the gap between his legs and his chest. His shoulders are quaking as he sobs, and he doesn't even attempt to look at her or pretend that he is okay. "Ted, it's me." She says, louder this time, and places a comforting hand on his shoulder but still he refuses to acknowledge her. It is like he doesn't know she is there. The one relief is that he doesn't appear to be bleeding. "I am here." She tries to soothe and massage circles into his shoulder, but his cries do not hint of ceasing. "Ted, what has happened?" She inspects his appearance further and frowns. His grey sweatpants are bunched up his calves, his hair is standing in all directions like it has been pulled repeatedly out of stress and he reeks of booze. She is getting malt and caramel aromas like a combination of beer and whiskey. It adds fuel to her already nauseous state – but she sits down next to him anyway.
Rebecca thinks about that time in Liverpool when she found him during a panic attack. He didn't shut her out. This is something very different, this isn't a panic attack, he is beside himself. Broken. It takes her sitting with him for five minutes and her many pleas for him to say something before she truly grasps that he isn't going to respond to her. She needs help. He needs help. "I will be right back." She tells him before reluctantly getting to her feet again, glancing back at him before she walks away in hope that he will poke his head up. He doesn't.
I am at Ted's. I let myself in. He needs help but he isn't responding to me.
I am on my way.
It is barely a minute which lapses between her message and his. The coach does seem to be a bit glued to his phone but the fact that he is so quick makes her wonder whether he has still been watching the device, hoping for it to ping.
Whilst she waits for Beard, she hovers in the corridor near Ted, not knowing whether to give him the space he obviously desires or to plead with him to say something. Her heart is pounding so hard and at this moment in time she is struggling to think of an instance when she has been more worried for another person. The buzzer sounding throughout the flat causes her to jump but still he doesn't move apart from the slight shake whilst he cries. She is hoping that the flash of panic across Beard's face earlier is because he knows what this is all about and that he will be able to shed some light on what is happening.
The priority though is to help Ted. "Where is he?" Beard questions as soon as he enters the flat.
"Erm he is…" She trails off and points to other man curled up in the corridor. His friend mutters a profanity under his breath and lifts his trademark cap up before nervously running a hand down the back of his head.
What is massively perturbing to her, well, as well as everything else, is how the bearded man doesn't seem at all surprised by the current predicament. It is as if he was expecting it as soon as he arrived, like he has experienced it many times before. After taking a deep breath and replacing the cap back on his head, Beard takes a few tentative strides towards his best friend whose head is still bowed, being protected by his crossed arms which are resting on top of his knees. "Hey bud." He softly greets and squats in front of him, gently placing a hand on his arm. "You been drinking?" A Roy Kent-esque grunt of acknowledgement follows with the most minute movement of his head. Rebecca's jaw drops that he has actually responded and despite it hurting that it wasn't her who was responded to, she is glad that he has. "Use your words, Ted." Beard firmly requests and slowly his friend does start to lift his head whilst squinting because of the light.
She gasps at what she is looking at – a clean shaven Ted Lasso with a cut on his upper lip. "You shaved?" She pointlessly asks, not being able to hold her tongue and she moves closer.
"I wanted to see him again. I had to." He slurs but doesn't direct this at her but his friend who is still holding onto his arm tightly, like he is worried what will happen if he lets go.
His words bewilder her, but the hurt etched into Beard's features, almost mirroring the anguish in Ted's, makes her understand that whatever this is, is a big deal. "You need some sleep, Coach." He continues to be so tender with him, his voice quiet, lulling Ted into a sense of security. There aren't many people in this world who have the capacity to calm him down like his best friend can. "Let's get you in bed."
Ted is no longer crying but his cheeks glisten with the trails of his tears, black bags line his usually bright but currently soulless eyes, and he looks like he needs to sleep for at least a week. However she reckons – and Beard knows – that he will be back at Nelson Round early tomorrow with a pink box of biscuits and ready to proceed with the preparations for their next match. This morning she was excited for their home game against Brighton this weekend, the weather is meant to be good, and she was going to enjoy probably the last warm game until the latter end of the season. Now that game seems so far away and insignificant.
She powerlessly observes whilst Beard inelegantly shuffles round to Ted's side and snakes an arm around his back, hooking underneath his arms. "You ready?" He asks him but only receives a hum in reply – this is enough encouragement to have him slowly standing to his feet, hauling his friend up in the process. "Come on. Nearly there." He motivates and slings his friend's arm over his shoulder and interlinks their hands, hoping that it is enough to keep him steady. "Ted, you're going to have to help me a bit here. I am not a young man anymore." And they begin to stagger down the corridor. It isn't a pretty sight and Rebecca can't help but wince, fretting that he may be accidentally dropped, or he loses his footing and both men get pulled to the floor. They pause momentarily, not far from the bedroom door and Beard turns back to her with Ted hanging from his form. "I will explain in a minute."
"O-okay." So there is something to explain, she was right, this is happening for a reason.
Rebecca leaves them to do whatever they need to do and decides to return to the kitchen, planning on doing some tidying like she started previously. However, on seeing the stacks of dirty plates, her brain struggles to formulate what to do next. She is mentally scrambling, not being able to get the sorry image of a depressed Ted Lasso out of her head. A man usually pumping with energy and never-ending optimism. She misses that Ted, but mainly because she hates that he is finding life hard. She gives up trying to tidy as soon as she begins, wondering if not knowing where to start is why Ted has left the place in such a state in the first place.
What she needs right now is a cup of tea, but she doubts it is something he even has – he has made his thoughts on the beverage very clear after all – and even if he did, she is fairly certain that there aren't any clean mugs to hand. Instead she traipses into the living room and nervously perches on one of the armchairs, electing on the one facing away from the window because the other is littered with dirty laundry. It is a long ten minutes before she is joined in the room by an unfazed Beard who moves the clothes from the seat and drapes them over the arm of the chair. "Is he…?" She isn't sure how to finish her sentence. To ask if he is okay seems stupid considering the circumstances, he most certainly isn't at all okay.
"He is in bed." He tells her and takes a seat opposite her, not sure how to meet her worried gaze. "He is all cleaned up and in fresh clothes. Hopefully he sleeps." But he really isn't very sure that he will. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't, it usually depends on how much he has drunk. "This isn't my place to say but… today is the anniversary of his father's death. It is never easy for him."
13th September. It is almost eerie that she also went through something bad on this date, but finding her father cheating on her mother isn't as monumental, she supposes. "Is he always like this today…?"
Beard hesitates in answering. His mouth opens and closes a few times but all he does is take in the air and exhale it. This seems like dangerous territory to him. Rebecca is his boss, his and Ted's boss, and if it were any of their previous bosses then he would shrug off their concerns and not give any information. But Rebecca is different. They're friends and Ted is very close to her. Their other bosses wouldn't have come round here. "Sometimes he is better, other times he is worse." He finds his voice and although his response is kind of vague, she translates this to be a yes. "But this is the worst I have seen him in a while." He sadly admits. "Last year we were traveling back from Cardiff and there was a buzz on the bus, so I guess it kept him distracted." Beard isn't a man of many words, and he certainly isn't the kind of guy to talk about a friend behind their back, but presently he cannot think of someone (perhaps apart from Michelle and Henry) who care about Ted more than Rebecca does. "The year before he had Michelle and Henry." And it is nice not having to deal with this alone.
"Right, yes, of course." She ponders whether he was ever this bad when he had Michelle and Henry in his life. She assumes that he would have put on a brave face for his son, or maybe he would venture out and spend the time on his own. Rebecca has so many questions, but it wouldn't be fair to bombard this poor man with them, so she settles on one. "Why did he shave?" Perhaps it is strange that this is the most pressing thing on her mind. She never thought she would see Ted Lasso without his trademark 'stache, she thought if she did then it would be a funny thing. She would be shocked when he waltzed into her office with a wide grin as he pretended that nothing had changed. They would laugh. Not this.
"I couldn't say for sure." Beard confesses with a sigh. "He has never done that before. He has always had a moustache since I have known him. It was a pathetic scraggly thing in college, but he still had one." He fleetingly smiles at the memory before his face twists in pain and he is looking down at his clasped hand awkwardly. "We err, we met as freshmen in college…" He initiates a story, going against his quiet nature. "His roommate left a month into starting and I was having trouble with mine so I kind of just moved in by December." Rebecca leans forward slightly, taking in every word, realising their value. "At first, I couldn't believe that this guy was real, you know?" She nods in recognition, and they share a smile but it is too brief. "When I understood that he is really like that I knew, despite our differences, that we could be friends. We err… complimented each other I guess." The truth is, he doesn't know where he would be without Ted. He has saved him so many times and now they are on this crazy, coaching adventure together. "I was the one who was a mess, not him. He was always there to help me and clean me up." There were a lot of close calls, too many close calls, but Ted never made it out to be a problem. He was happy to help him, glad too. Just so he wasn't alone. "Then when we lived together in an apartment during sophomore year, I saw that he wasn't always this upbeat, trouble-free guy. On this day… twenty-eight years ago, he frightened me." He thought that he was going to have to get help but then remembered all the times he had helped him on his own. Beard stepped up. And has done so for many years since. "I was going to stop by tonight and hope he would let me in, I am glad you have a key."
Rebecca thinks this is the most that she has heard Beard talk. He has always intrigued her, and she had an idea that once he got talking that he would be interesting. She has caught hints of his wisdom in the past, but she hates that the first time that they have properly spoken in two years is because of this. "What do we do now?" She unsurely asks.
"Nothing." Is his monotonous reply and it is the dismay on her face that has him continuing. "He will sleep it off or at least rest enough to sober him up. Tomorrow he will be a different man and it will be business as usual."
"I can't just forget this Beard!" She exclaims and immediately he is mouthing a shush at her, not to be rude but requesting that she keep her voice down to not disturb Ted. "You men are ridiculous. This needs to be spoken about, to ensure that next year will be better."
"Boss, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I have done this with him on and off for nearly thirty years." He sternly comments. "I gave up trying to talk about it a long time ago and instead I just make sure I am there when he needs me." Rebecca isn't sure whether to accept this or to argue some more. He is right in implying that he has the better experience here, he has known Ted a long time after all, but she still believes that this is something they cannot bury. She may not have all the facts, she doesn't know what happened to Ted's father that has scarred him so badly, but she is certain that she wants to help. "I should have come straight after practice, and I feel guilty that I didn't. I will not be leaving him tonight. I promise you that." Beard hints that she should leave them to it and although walking out right now feels the wrong thing to do, she will respect his wishes.
Rebecca agrees by getting up off the chair, patting down her deep green wrap dress as she rises. "Please contact me Beard if you need to. You don't need to go through this alone." She tells him and he replies with the smallest of nods. "I care about him." Is the last thing she utters before leaving.
Beard was right (of course).
The following day she is sat at her desk scrolling through her emails on her laptop when a chirpy knock and a chipper greeting echoes through her office. Ted is stood in the doorway with a tired smile and rattling the small, pink box before he strolls in without even wavering. She considers when he could have possibly had time to bake them. "Morning boss! Sorry you didn't get these yesterday." His coolness in mentioning the day before has her eyebrow quirking, as she struggles to comprehend what is happening. All she can do is watch him place the box on the desk in front of her whilst she remains speechless. Her clear disbelief has him pausing, however, and gulping nothing down.
So he does remember. For a second there she thought that he was so inebriated yesterday that he had no recollection of her being there with him. "Ted." She murmurs, her fingers dancing over the pink box, stopping herself from diving in just yet.
Her eyes then flick back up to meet his, the contact speaking a thousand words and he is averting his gaze in embarrassment. "Listen boss, I am sorry for yesterday, but I can't talk about it." He taps the top of her desk nervously with one hand whilst his focus is fixed on his other where his fingers are rubbing together anxiously. Rebecca wants to stand up, reach out and grab them, hold them, hoping to put him at some kind of ease.
She refrains. "Okay, then don't talk to me about it." She thought at length last night about what could be done about this. If Beard has tried so often to talk about it and not got anywhere then she doesn't know why she would be any different. Her statement has his attention snapping to meet hers, his brow creasing in confusion. He was expecting more pushback than this. "Dr Fieldstone will be here before the day is up. Talk to her. Please." And now it all makes sense.
"Alright." He surprisingly agrees and she leans back in her chair out of astonishment, her arms involuntarily crossing over her chest. "I am sorry Rebecca. I hope you can forgive me."
"Trust me you are already forgiven." She effortlessly shrugs off his apologies because it is true. This isn't Ted's fault, she has determined, and throwing blame around will not be at all helpful. "I got to say I am going to miss the 'tache, but you do also look good without it."
"Thank you." He blushes before leaving her to it, ready for another day of coaching.