Bend It Like Becker

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Chapter 27 - DARKEST DEPRESSION

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When Becker awoke, all was dark and still...except for his ankle, which was throbbing in pain. He knew instantly that he didn't want to be awake and desperately hoped to fall back asleep, though it wasn't to see what happened next in his dream - he certainly could do without watching the prehistoric dragon attacking more children at the kindergarten. However, at this point, even that would be preferable to consciousness.

And things had been going so well earlier. Last night's sleep (which had lasted well into the morning) had done him a world of good, and he'd awoken refreshed and almost as good as new, once he took his pain meds. Jess had settled him on the couch, where he'd been looking forward to watching the footage of their practice. That is, he had been looking forward to it until he came to the realisation of just how horrible they really were.

After watching a few Premier League games with the team last Friday night, Becker obviously expected their practice to look a bit ragged by comparison. Unfortunately, a bit ragged would've been a huge improvement on how they actually looked. In fact, if he hadn't known they were supposed to be playing football, he might not have even recognised the sport!

It was like watching a farmer walk through a chicken pen with feed, with the entire flock following en masse wherever the farmer went. Such was their team with the ball. In fact, at times Emily was the only player more than 2 metres away from it. No wonder they weren't able to make any headway down the field - there was never a teammate to pass the ball to because they were all crowded together.

And to add insult to injury (literally), Chas had been right. No, worse than that, he'd been being nice. Every call he'd made was indisputable, which was obvious even on the low-res video, and he hadn't even bothered to blow the whistle on half the fouls. It was depressing to realise that Chas wasn't the prat, Becker himself was, although that still didn't excuse Chas's flirting with Jess in front of Ghani. But in terms of the match itself, Becker definitely was the one who owed an apology, though he wasn't quite up for giving one just yet.

But those were just the start of their problems, for each and every one of them (except Ghani, of course) was playing terribly, as if they'd never seen a football before. A field full of 5-year-olds might've shown more skills! And where was the teamwork? Isn't that what this whole match was supposed to be about? Working together as a team? Yet everyone was so worried about getting control of the ball themselves that it was as if they didn't remember they had teammates. Becker was appalled to discover how many times he'd been scrambling to steal the ball when a fellow teammates was right there in a much better position to do so. He was clearly way too aggressive, and it was more than likely he'd be red-carded out of the game if he didn't improve. And Connor was more than likely to end up in hospital, since he seemed to be constantly taking a beating from everyone.

At least Emily was doing okay. She wasn't a brilliant goalkeep or anything, but she at least knew her job and was able to put her whole self into it.

Too bad Becker hadn't been able to do the same thing with his coaching. Instead, he'd been so busy stressing about his own playing, worrying about the Minister's wager, and obsessing about Jess over the past week that he'd failed to really concentrate on what should be his number one priority right now. He truly had failed them all. Hell, even Posh Spice could've done a better job of coaching! If it hadn't been for Jess stepping up and taking control half the time, they wouldn't even have gotten as far as they had. And while he was extremely grateful for all her help, it also made him feel even more guilty, as if he'd personally failed her as well.

So mid-afternoon, when Jess had cheerily asked if he wanted to rewatch the footage together so they could discuss it, Becker hadn't been up for it. He'd feigned tiredness, which wasn't entire manufactured, and Jess had quickly offered him assorted items - a warm blanket, more pillows, a nip of whiskey - to help him rest. He must've been asleep when she'd left for now the flat was silent, and through the dim evening light he noticed that she'd taped a note to the telly:

"Off to practice. Didn't want to wake you. We can go over tonight's footage when I get home. Rest and take it easy, and don't forget to take your pain meds at 6. If you need anything, just ring me. - Jess"

Becker heaved a grateful sigh - it was luckily time for more pain meds, a fact which his ankle had clearly been trying to tell him. He got up in search of his meds and hobbled first to the kitchen and then all over the living area, which didn't exactly help the throbbing in his ankle. He finally found the pills on the end table right where he'd been sitting, along with a full glass a water for him to use - he should've known Jess would set everything out for him.

He was about to sit back down when he remembered that he was also supposed to be icing his foot, so he hobbled back to the kitchen. As he closed the freezer door, he noticed the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. He grabbed it and took it back with him to the couch. Collapsing back into his seat, he elevated his ankle once again on the footstool and placed the bag of ice upon it. He then gulped down his pain meds, hoping they'd work quickly.

Though what did it matter? Even if his ankle was healed by Saturday, the team wouldn't be. Thanks to him, they would lose, and the Minister would be furious, and Becker would suddenly find himself on the dole, never to see Jess again.

Suddenly that whiskey was looking awfully good.

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Jess shut the front door and ran up the stairs excitedly - she couldn't wait to tell Becker the good news. At the end of practice, Jess had struck a deal with Lester. She and Becker were to stay home tomorrow (with Jess telecommuting again), which had pretty much been a done deal from the moment Dr. Boyd had uttered the phrase "48 hours". However, Jess knew that Becker was liable to get more and more restless as he started to feel better, so she'd negotiated that he be allowed to attend practice tomorrow evening, not as a player but merely as a coach. That way at least Becker could get out of the flat and see people, PLUS he'd be able to coach the game in real-time. Sure, watching the camera footage was better than nothing, but actually being on the sidelines would surely be an enormous improvement.

But as Jess reached the top of the stairs, it suddenly struck her that none of the lights in the living room were on. Perhaps Becker was still dozing, and if so, she didn't want to wake him, knowing that he needed the rest. But as she tiptoed through the kitchen, Becker called out to her from the couch, "That you, Jess?"

"Yes, are you awake?" She could practically feel his eyeroll through the darkness. "Oh, right, of course you're are. I'm going to turn on a light, then - is that okay?"

"Whatever. It's your flat."

Jess switched on the light to see Becker slumped on the couch, dressed only in his gym bottoms, his hand hanging down limply beside the armrest grasping the now-empty whiskey bottle.

"Becker!" she exclaimed as she hurried over and tried to take the bottle away, but he held onto it tightly. "What have you done?"

"Followed doctor's orders, like a good little soldier: kept my foot iced and elevated and took my meds," he said, holding up the bottle, "just like you told me to."

Jess seized the opportunity to grab the bottle and then turned to look at his ankle, gasping when she saw how blue his toes were. She grabbed up the bag of ice, which was mostly water now, asking frantically, "How long have you had this on?"

Becker shrugged. "An hour? I don't know. What time is it?"

"Becker! You're only to ice it for 20-minute intervals - anything longer can cause damage to your nerves."

He shrugged again. "No more damage than what I've already done to the team," he grumbled.

"What?" He wasn't making any sense. "Here, let me put the kettle on for tea - we need to get some fluids in you so you don't dehydrate. Abby and Connor should be home any minute with the takeaway - it'll do you good to get some food in your stomach."

A momentary thought flickered through Jess's mind as she headed for the kitchen - she'd just been handed the perfect opportunity to collect data for her second experiment, the one she'd thought of the night after the pub when Becker had been so talkative. However, it then occurred to her that none of tonight's data could be used because another variable had, unfortunately, been introduced - he'd consumed not only alcohol but painkillers as well.

"Becker, you could've killed yourself," Jess scolded as she realised the implications. "You should know better than to mix whiskey with pain meds - it's dangerous."

"What does it matter? I'm gonna be out of a job by Saturday afternoon anyway."

He sounded so despairing, it was quite worrying. "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "No one's getting fired over a silly football match."

"Maybe not the match, but definitely the wager." Becker sighed heavily. "And I really loved this job. Not that I'm gonna miss the dragons, but I'll definitely miss your magical skirt." He sighed again, adding wistfully, "I really loved that magical skirt."

"Okay, Becker, you're really starting to scare me now." Jess hurried over to her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she started to search for "symptoms of mixing painkillers and alcohol". As she clicked on various links, she didn't like what she saw.

"And your shoes, too," Becker continued. "I'm definitely gonna miss those strappy shoes."

But Jess wasn't really listening because she was too worried about what she was reading. She'd been right - painkillers and alcohol were a deadly combination, and Becker was definitely starting to show all the symptoms. Depression: check! Erratic behaviour: check!

"Do you feel dizzy?" she asked.

"Over your strappy shoes? Yeah, I guess you could call it that."

Dizziness: check! Jess felt she must check for the other items on the list as well, so she hurried over to Becker's side and put her hand against his bare chest, trying to feel if his heart rate seemed slow. It was hard to tell, though, especially when he grabbed her hand and she fell ungracefully into his lap.

"Will you go put on your magical skirt for me?" he asked as she tried to extricate herself from his lap without hurting his propped-up ankle. "I'd like to see it one last time."

"Oh! Sorry!" Jess looked up to see her roommates, standing frozen in the entryway. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything," Abby continued with a smirk.

"Yeah," Connor added. "We'll...uh...just be upstairs if you need us."

"I need you now," Jess said frantically, finally freeing herself from Becker's lap and rushing across the room. Lowering her voice so he couldn't hear, she blurted out, "Becker's drunk an entire bottle of whiskey!"

Abby smiled. "Ooh, data for your experiment, yeah?"

"Experiment?" Connor whined. "What experiment? Why didn't you ask me to help with your experiment?"

"There's no experiment," Jess insisted. "And I'm really worried. Mixing alcohol with painkillers can be fatal! I think we need to take Becker to hospital."

Abby and Connor came back into the room and followed Jess over to where Becker lay sprawled shirtless on the couch.

"Hey, Becker," Abby said, sitting down next to him on the couch and observing his reactions carefully as she pointedly asked, "So...what's going on?"

Becker rolled his eyes and gave her a withering look. "Do I really have to answer that?"

"Yep, he's fine," she announced, hopping to her feet.

"But he's not. He's depressed and dizzy and he keeps going on about some magical skirt," Jess insisted, her voice starting to crack as she got more and more hysterical. "And he might've gotten nerve damage from the ice. Or even worse, what if his nervous system continues to slow down? That's one of the symptoms, you know. It could slow down completely and he could stop breathing and his heart could stop and he could DIE!"

"Jess!" Abby said, grabbing her flatmate by the shoulders in an effort to calm her. "He's going to be fine. We'll get some food in him and keep him hydrated and watch him to make sure that he doesn't get worse."

"But what if-"

Abby cut her off. "And if he starts to deteriorate, we'll take him to hospital then, okay?"

Jess nodded. "Okay. That sounds...that sounds good."

Abby sat Jess down on the other end of the couch. "Why don't you turn on the telly and try to find something good for us to watch, and Connor and I will go serve you both up some food."

Jess nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm her frenzied nerves. Watching the telly was certain to help her relax. But glancing around for the remote, she couldn't find it anywhere. It didn't seem to be on the couch...or the end table...or the comfy chair...or the floor! Where could it be?

"I can't find the remote!" Jess blurted out, nearly hysterical again.

"Don't worry about it," Abby said, grabbing Jess by the shoulders and walking her back over to the couch. "We'll look for it later. For now, tuck in."

Jess stared at the plate Abby had handed her, but she'd worked herself up into such a state, nothing really looked appetising. She picked up a prawn cracker and began to absently move her food about on her plate so it'd appear like she was eating. Abby and Connor kept up a cheerful conversation, but Jess was still so worried about Becker that she wasn't really paying attention.

Eventually, when the others were nearly done with their meals, Jess realised she should try to get rid of at least some of the food on her plate. She looked to Becker, who was still sat next to her on the couch, and offered, "You want my prawn cracker?"

She knew something was off the moment he turned towards her. But when he shook his head, turning down a perfectly good krupuk, she knew it was really serious.

"Becker? Are you okay?"

"I don't...feel so well," he admitted.

Jess gasped and instantly scooted closer to him. Placing first her hand and then her ear against his chest in an attempt to feel his heartbeat, she frantically asked, "Are you having trouble breathing? Should we take you to hospital?"

And that's when he threw up all over her hair.

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to be continued