Bend It Like Becker

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Chapter 28 - LATE-NIGHT LECTURE

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Becker's head was pounding, and he felt as if his guts had been turned inside out, which essentially they had. This was not like any hangover he'd ever had, and he was now being made painfully aware of just how bad an idea mixing whiskey with pain meds had actually been. He was miserable and hadn't the will to live, especially as he knew the memory of puking on Jess hadn't been a dream.

He eventually opened his eyes and saw Abby sitting quietly by the bed, writing something in her journal by the dim light of the bedside lamp. Although he didn't imagine it possible, Becker suddenly felt even worse than a moment before. The fact that Jess wasn't the one sitting there just confirmed his biggest fear, that he'd gone and ruined everything, that she'd never speak to him again. Of course, he couldn't exactly blame her after what he'd done. He closed his eyes again, letting slip a quiet moan of despair.

This caught Abby's attention, and she set aside her journal. "Hey." He opened his eyes to find her offering a sympathetic smile. "Good to see you back."

Becker shook his head, which didn't make him feel any better. "I'm not back; I'm still in hell."

"Well, regardless, I'm going to make you drink this entire glass of water," she stated, grabbing it from the nightstand. "We need to keep you hydrated."

Becker closed his eyes. "Can't you just let me die?"

"No," she said, putting her hand on the back of his head and lifting it just enough so she could put the glass to his lips. Once he'd drained the glass, she let his head fall back onto the pillow. "I'll go get you some more in a minute."

Becker groaned. He hadn't wanted the water, but at least it'd helped partially relieve the hideous after-taste in his mouth.

"I won't even bother to ask how you're doing," Abby teased. "But I'm glad you were able to sleep. We had a terrible time getting Jess off to bed; we eventually put Bailey's in some decaf, which seemed to work like a charm." She smiled meaningfully at Becker. "You might remember that for future."

Becker figured he'd never have a chance to use that knowledge, since Jess was unlikely to ever come near him again. First he'd ruined the team, and now he'd ruined their friendship. "Jess must hate me," he mumbled to himself.

"Are you kidding?" Abby said. "She was so worried about you, we couldn't get her to leave your side. Connor had to practically force her into the shower." She smiled. "In a way, you know, you're lucky."

Becker gave a derisive snort. "Lucky?"

"Jess was insistent we take you to hospital, but we were able to convince her that all they'd do is pump your stomach, and you'd already done a brilliant job of that yourself."

Becker groaned. Abby was entirely too cheerful, and it was only making him feel worse.

"You should've heard the scolding Lester took," Abby continued. "I hope you enjoyed that whiskey, because you'll never have any again, if Jess has her say."

The mere thought of the whiskey made Becker nauseated all over again. He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes frantically searching for a place to vomit, and Abby quickly held up a small bin. After a moment, though, the feeling passed, and he lay back again, closing his eyes.

"What time is it?" he asked, feeling completely disorientated by everything that had happened.

"Time you stopped being an idiot and told Jess how you really feel about her."

Becker opened his eyes and stared at Abby, aghast.

"Oh, you mean the actual time," she teased, looking at her watch. "It's nearly two. And definitely time to get you more water before you fall asleep again." She stood up, pointedly placing the bin directly next to the bed in case he needed it whilst she was gone, before heading for the door. "I'll be right back."

After she left, Becker lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to force away the throbbing in his head so he could consider Abby's words. What exactly did she want him to tell Jess? That he found her brilliant and kind and beautiful and sexy and amazing? That he thought about her constantly? That every time he looked at her, he longed to recreate the spy thriller's couch scene? Because what would be the point? They couldn't get together anyway. And after last night, he was certain she'd never want to. So really, why even bother?

"Here we go," Abby said, reentering the room with the glass filled. "Time to drink up."

This time Becker actually sat up, with Abby helping him prop pillows behind his back.

"And I meant what I said," she went on, sitting back down as Becker took a long sip. "You've just spillt your actual guts to her, now you need to do the same in a metaphorical sense. Just be a man and tell Jess-"

"Abigail, please," Becker said, shooting her a withering look. "Now is not the time for this."

"Sure it is," she said with a smile. "You're a captive audience, clearly in desperate need of a good talking to. Consider it some... friendly coaching from a mate."

Becker groaned. "Abby, I just, as you so elegantly put it, 'spillt my guts' - my insides are raw, my head is pounding, and I'm really not up for a lecture."

"How about a question then?" Abby leant in closer, a look of curiosity upon her face. "So tell me - what on earth is this 'magical skirt' you kept going on about?"

Becker moaned, closing his eyes as he leant back against the headrest. He couldn't believe he'd brought that up last night - Jess must've thought he'd gone insane.

"It's her yellow frock, ain't it?" Becker opened his eyes to find Connor's head poking around the bedroom door. "The one she wore about a week ago, yeah? I know exactly the one you mean!"

Abby looked incredulously back and forth between Becker and her fiance. "You mean her yellow SKORT?"

"Skort?" Becker repeated back blankly.

"What's that?" Connor asked.

"Never mind," Abby sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'd hate to ruin the illusion for you both."

"Thanks, Ab," Connor said, walking into the room and giving his fiance a quick peck on the lips. "By the bye, your shift's over."

Abby glanced at her watch. "Oh, you're right! Thanks." She turned and smiled at Becker. "Saved by the bell, I guess. But don't think I'm through with you." She then stood up, grabbing her journal before heading for the door, instructing Connor, "He's just had two glasses of water, but you might try to get another few down him before he falls back asleep."

"Right-ho!" he said, taking the seat she'd just vacated.

"G'night," she said with a smile before disappearing out the door.

"Sleep tight," Connor called after her. "Don't let the Arthropleura bite."

Becker, however, was still fixated on Connor's earlier statement. "Shift?"

Connor nodded. "Jess wouldn't go to bed until Abby and I promised we'd keep an all-night vigil. Poor girl - she was near hysterical with worry. She's still convinced your heart's gonna stop or something."

It didn't stop, but Becker felt his heart skip a beat, realising that Jess still cared, despite everything.

He also realised that he desperately needed to avoid being alone with Abby in the near future, for the prospect of sitting through another of her lectures was terrifying.

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Jess awoke to a strange sound. At first her sleep-addled brain couldn't quite place it, but she could tell whatever it was kept getting closer. Finally she was conscious enough to decipher what the noise must be - Becker hobbling down the stairs by himself. Becker! The anxiety and worry that had practically overwhelmed her last evening came instantly flooding back, mixed with an underlying sense of relief that, if he was hobbling down the stairs, he'd at least survived the night. She leapt off the couch and hurried over to the stairs only in time to help him down the last step.

"Becker, you shouldn't have tried to maneouvre the stairs by yourself," she scolded as she helped him get settled on the sofa with his ankle propped up. "Why didn't you ask Connor or Abby to help you down?"

Becker frowned. "They left for work over an hour ago. Didn't you know?"

Now it was Jess's turn to frown. Her flatmates had promised they'd keep a constant vigil on Becker, yet they'd up and left him without a second thought? What if something had happened? She never would've forgiven herself if she'd been down here fast asleep as he'd...

Becker must've read her mind because he quickly explained, "They were going to wake you before they left, but I convinced them not to. I figured that, after everything, you could probably use the rest."

Jess sat down on the couch beside him, relieved that her friends hadn't simply neglected their duties. But her anger then turned to guilt as she thought about him hobbling down the stairs by himself. "You could've woken me," she insisted, though not very convincingly as she finished with a huge yawn.

"Actually, my ankle is feeling much better this morning...especially compared to the rest of me."

"Oh, can I get you something?" Jess asked, feeling bad that she hadn't already offered. "Some water? Pain meds? A bin to vomit into? Let me at least get you-" She started to stand, but Becker grabbed her hand and sat her back down.

"Jess," he said, squeezing her hand. "I just...I am SO sorry!"

Jess shrugged it off, simply glad he was alive. "It's okay. Really. It's not your fault. And it's actually a GOOD thing that you threw up because-"

"Jessica! I'm not sorry about that. I mean, I AM, but that's not what I..." He gave a frustrated sigh before taking her other hand. "I'm sorry about drinking so much in the first place. I just...," he looked away, as if he couldn't meet her gaze as he continued, "I got so depressed yesterday about the team, I just felt it was all so...hopeless."

Jess frowned. "Why?"

"Why?" Becker looked back at her, incredulous. "Have you not watched the footage?"

"Well, sure, we're a bit ragged, but-"

"No, Jess. Ragged is miles ahead of where we are. And it's all my fault. I've let everybody down. I'm a terrible coach."

"No you're not," Jess insisted, squeezing his hands back, trying to reassure him. "It's not your fault you've never coached footy before. You've been doing the best you can, we all have. And we're getting better." She flashed him an encouraging smile. "Besides, we've got all day to watch the footage from the last two practices and figure out strategies. And with you and me working together, I'm sure we'll be able to come up with more ways the team can improve."

Becker frowned. "All day? Don't you have work? Shouldn't you be monitoring the hub?"

Jess shook her head. "Lester gave me the day off. Guess he felt a bit guilty about everything, since last night's...mishap was ultimately due to HIS whiskey. So he's got Ravi covering my shift for the day." She stood up, only realising as she let go of Becker's hands that he'd still been holding on. She started towards the telly, saying, "I've got the footage right here. It won't take me a minute to set up."

"Jess, I really don't think I'm up for-"

"Oh, you're right," Jess quickly corrected, realising how impolite she sounded. "I should cook us some breakfast first." When she saw the colour drain from his face, she remembered that food probably wasn't at the top of Becker's wants right now. "How about I just get you some water and maybe some dry toast? Do you think you can keep that down?"

Becker nodded tentatively as the look of intense guilt returned. "Jess, I'm so sorry I threw up on you last night."

"No worries," Jess said cheerfully. "Just think - it'll be a funny story to tell our-" She stopped herself before she uttered the word "grandkids" and instead finished with, "friends."

Becker nodded, returning her smile with a cautious one of his own. She was reminded once again of just how lucky she was to even see that smile this morning, considering how close they'd come to losing him last night. She was so overcome with relief that he was okay, that he hadn't died from his stupid mistake, that without thinking she leant over and gave him a quick peck on the forehead before hurrying off to the kitchen.

And she hoped that the retching that followed a moment later had more to do with the alcohol remaining in his system than her unintended display of affection.

...

to be continued