My Goal

by H J Perry

  Sexist banter and bravado were primitive bonding exercises in private, which excluded gay teammates.

  Carlos hadn't said anything. He was concentrating on his coffee.

  "I don't mind women together," said Rob. "I can understand what a woman sees in a woman. All those curves! It's blokes together I can't stand."

  Here we go, not even ten o'clock in the morning.

  "Yeah, I hear you. Like, what could a guy see in another dude?"

  "Yeah, right. I wouldn't want to go anywhere near your hairy rear."

  "No fear of that, mate. I'm for female handling only."

  "Women fancy men, thank the good Lord. I guess a gay guy sees men the same as a straight woman." Gareth put in a reasoned suggestion from the end of the table.

  "Yeah, for women that's natural. I just don't understand a man touching another dude.

  As expected, the conversation continued to deteriorate into the sort of homophobic remarks that made Harry queasy.

  "You know, if a woman wants to suck my big D that all makes perfect sense. I don't mind that, but not a man's mouth near my tackle. No way. Imagine that five o'clock shadow over your balls."

  There were giggles.

  "You imagine it, if you want. I'm not even thinking it."

  Harry glanced up just in time to see the men shudder and shake their heads in total disgust.

  "Why would a man want to do that? Go anywhere near another guy's..."

  Carlos banged his hand down on the table for attention. The whole room fell silent. "But, Rob, Chris, thousands of women fancy men and you don't find that strange. They find something attractive, even in guys like you two."

  "Well said, Carl." Gareth laughed.

  Harry was surprised. Someone standing up against homophobic comments in the club was a rare event. It happened, but not often.

  "I don't know why it bothers you two," said Carlos. "No one's asking you to watch gay porn, so why are you worried about what two men might be doing together when you're not there? Why are you even thinking about it?"

  Well said, Harry thought but said nothing.

  From the moment Carlos's hand banged on the table, he held everyone's attention. No one in the room spoke or ate. Everybody listened.

  "You got something you want to tell us, Carlos? You like it up the ass, do you?" One of the insolent teenagers at another table broke the spell of silence.

  And Harry inwardly groaned. That's why you can't challenge homophobic shit in this environment, because an accusing finger is pointed at you. You must like gay sex yourself if you object to homophobic nonsense.

  Arguably one of the best players in the world and the most expensive in the club, Carlos could laugh it off. His string of beautiful girlfriends was well documented.

  "I don't need to tell you, pipsqueak," Carlos called out to the youth. "In fact, I'll not be texting you or tweeting about my next shag, so don't hold your breath to find out whether he's a man or she's a woman." And then more quietly he added, "Bloody smart-assed comments."

  A few of the players chuckled. Whether they were laughing at Carlos or with him, Harry wasn't sure. They couldn't all be homophobic.

  Harry was pretty sure that if Jason came out and told everyone he was gay most of the blokes would be okay with it. Because Jason was a superb player, he fit in with the crowd, and everybody liked him. He played for England.

  Harry didn't feel so secure or self-confident. If a top player like Jason couldn't come out, Harry was damn sure he couldn't.

  Undeterred, Rob continued with ignorant nonsense. "The thing is, Carlos, whether you get a girlfriend or boyfriend is of no relevance to my life, but for one thing if you're, you know, that way, I wouldn't want you standing too close in the shower."

  As did Chris. "Come on, I know you're mucking about, but I wouldn't want gay eyes on my backside in the shower. And secondly, it's just wrong. Isn't that right Harry?"

  "What?"

  "Gay sex is just wrong. Two men do not belong together."

  "Why are you asking me? Do I look like the final arbiter of right and wrong morality round here?"

  "No. You're a Christian. You're the only one I know in this room who goes to church every week. And tell me if I'm wrong, but isn't it a part of your religion? Men and women only, that kind of thing?"

  Harry hesitated. "Well, um..., honestly, I think the main thing taught by my church is sex belongs in committed relationships, and that means marriage."

  "Gay men and lesbians can have committed relationships," said Carlos.

  "But they can't get married. Not yet," said Rob.

  "Not in this country," Carlos replied under his breath quietly.

  Harry thought, most people didn't hear that.

  Gareth pushed his chair away from the table. "I think what Harry is saying is you can't call on Christianity to back you up, Rob, because you shouldn't be having sex either because you're not married. I'm done here." He stood up and prepared to leave.

  Again there was laughter around the table, and they had the attention of everyone in the room. The gay sex discussion was irresistible to these guys, and Harry wished he wasn't at the heart of it.

  "Sets us all out as sinners then, wouldn't it? I'm fucked." Rob stood up, ready to leave the table and head down to the locker room to change for the day's training, and realized what he said. "Excuse the pun."

  No we're not all sinners, thought Harry, but I am probably the only virgin here.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  November

  CARLOS

  It was another night isolated in a hotel; another club dinner with the eleven plus seven players on the list for the next day; another early night for a lunchtime match.

  "Who's coming for a game of cards?"

  Various affirmative or negative murmurings rumbled around the dinner table.

  Wherever Harry went was where Carlos intended to go.

  "Carl? Are you in, Carl? Are you in for cards?"

  People flocked to Carlos, always asking him what he was doing. He noticed Harry would be asked last, if at all, quiet and often forgotten.

  Harry hadn't committed himself to any after-dinner activity, but Carlos was asked directly. "I'm not sure yet." He could always change his mind.

  A few guys went to the bar, probably for a chat and sticking to non-alcoholic drinks.

  The others wandered in the direction of their hotel suites. Several of the guys went into Davide's room for a card game.

  "Who's coming?" Davide asked, apparently addressing everyone, but looking at Carlos.

  "I might come along later. Stuff to do." Carlos felt like a nervous, panicked teenager as he and Harry were about to part company for the night. Splitting up was something Carlos didn't want to do.

  Chris paused on his way into Davide's suite. "Carl, you two aren't planning to hang out alone are you?" asked Chris. "What are you two, like, boyfriends or something?"

  Carlos's insides turned over. Was it that obvious to everyone that he was moping around Harry like a lovesick teenager, and had been for weeks? He was infatuated and unable to do anything about it.

  Had Harry noticed?

  "Don't be ridiculous," said Harry and he went to his room without glancing at Carlos.

  After briefly visiting his own suite, Carlos made his way to Harry's room and knocked on the door. He deliberately didn't pause at the door, but burst into the room when Harry opened it.

  Despite a jumble of emotions, Carlos attempted to swagger in, calm and casual, a look he always wore so well. He was determined things wouldn't get weird between them. After all, Harry had no idea about the enormous crush Carlos had on him, so why should anything change?

  Carlos sat on the bed, grabbed the remote control, and stared at the TV. "I thought we could hang out for a while."

  He had crazy feelings of being drawn to the guy. And the more he was with him, the more he liked him and found him damned attractive. What the fuck?!

  Whatever it could be called, bromance, friendsh
ip, they had chemistry together. They got on well together, and this could be so much more.

  Chemistry! Carlos was attracted to Harry like he'd never been attracted to a man before, and like he'd never been attracted to a woman before, for that matter. And he'd never got on with anyone as well as he got on with Harry.

  Carlos had no problem with sexuality, no problem with finding men attractive, no problem acknowledging to himself that he was bisexual. But maybe he wasn't. He was just Harry-sexual. At least he'd like to find out.

  Glimpses in the locker room and shower confirmed everything Carlos suspected. When it came right down to it, Harry, who was so modest and timid and unassuming, was so damned sexy. Carlos wanted to touch Harry's body all over.

  Carlos had never looked forward to a day at work so much as he did at BSC. He always got in early. He loved playing football. He enjoyed training and hanging out with the guys. There was something even better than all of that, and it was the chance to see and spend time with Harry every day. And on the night before a match they could spend much of the evening together in a hotel room.

  HARRY

  Entering the hotel room in bare feet, wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, Carlos didn't wait for the invitation. He went straight to the TV, picked up the remote control and stretched out on the bed.

  "Make yourself at home why don't you?"

  "It's early. I figured you could do with the company."

  "If I wanted company, I could have joined the guys in the bar, or lads going swimming, or the poker tournaments in Davide's room."

  "Those are very specific activities. I thought we could chill out like we do at home. Watch a film or TV or something. And perhaps you wanted some company, just not their company."

  "You are right. They get a bit much sometimes." With their twenty-four-seven heteronormative take on the world. "But what about you? You visit me at home. Sit next to me on the bench, at dinner, at breakfast, and now you're here." The other players are gossiping. Leave me alone!

  "I thought you liked having me around. Are you bored with me already?" Carlos's face dropped, and the tone of his voice slipped to pathetic.

  "If I could choose my stalker, it would be you. Is that reassuring enough?"

  "You don't think of me as a stalker, do you?"

  "Of course not. And I don't think of you as the kind of guy who needs reassurance. What has gotten into you?"

  "Why shouldn't I want to hang out with you?"

  Is he serious? Does that need an answer? Carlos was obviously taking his time discovering who the coolest guys were on the team to hang out with.

  "No reason. You obviously have good taste. Have you any preference in TV viewing for the evening? I've not checked what's on."

  Grabbing extra pillows from the closet, Harry plodded over to the bed and lay down on the vacant side.

  "I have been thinking about the conversation we had the other day at breakfast." Carlos could hardly have been more vague.

  "Which one?"

  He could have imagined it, but it looked as if Harry knew exactly which conversation Carlos was referring to, despite the fact that they had breakfast together five days a week.

  "I didn't realize you were one of the club's practicing Christians."

  "That's not how I see myself, either. I was brought up in a religious family, we attended church every week, and Sunday school. But now I just take my mom to church at Christmas and Easter and perhaps a few times through the year."

  "I see. So you don't go every week." Carlos turned on the TV.

  "No, just now and again. It makes her happy."

  "Next time you go, I wondered if I could come along?"

  "You want to get up early on a Sunday morning and go with me, meet my mom, and go to church?"

  "If that's what you do a Sunday morning, then yes. Can I tag along?"

  "I don't go every Sunday. Why do you want to come?"

  "I like hanging out with you. I'd like to know about your church. I went to a Catholic church in Spain as a young kid, but dropped it when we moved to England. When are you going next? For Christmas?"

  "Christmas Eve, yes. I'm going this Sunday, too, the day after tomorrow."

  "I know how to behave in church, you know."

  "I don't doubt it. Your behavior is always impeccable apart from when you gatecrash people's hotel rooms, hogging their beds and their TV remote controls."

  "You already said you didn't know what you're gonna watch. It seems to me you need a real man in here to make some decisions."

  CHAPTER NINE

  December

  HARRY

  The energy and excitement on the bus were palpable.

  A bubble of exhilaration fueled by the team's victory at an away match.

  It wasn't far from home. They should be back in Birmingham within two hours. The single guys on the team bus, those who didn't have wives, children, and girlfriends to go home to, were already discussing dancing and drinking dens where they might retreat for post-match celebrations. A few were talking about getting a taxi to London.

  "Are you up for a trip to London, Carlos?"

  Carlos looked up from his iPad and removed one of the earbuds. "Not tonight. I've got plans."

  As always Carlos was seated next to Harry on the bus. The men wanted to know Carlos's plans for the evening.

  Winning in front of the home crowd was one thing, but away games made for champions. BSC was unstoppable at the moment. Every man on the bus was elated. Every man except Harry.

  The players were planning nights out with each other, or on their phones making plans with their friends, or wives and girlfriends. And they were discussing a whole load of overindulgence.

  Not drugs or alcohol or food. The only pleasure fit athletes could overindulge in was sex. The conversation turned to sex so often that Harry had every reason to believe the guys were going to do what they claimed. Every man, it seemed, except him.

  Harry wanted to win; he felt excited when they won, and he shared a fleeting moment of joy every time his team scored. Every time the final whistle blew on a match in which they were leading the elation was an extreme emotion that he felt only fleetingly, but from experience, he knew the rest of the guys would still be on a high when they pulled into Birmingham. Harry's joy was short-lived, lasting about the same amount of time as it took to eat his muesli in the morning, on those mornings that he chose muesli.

  "Harry? What about you? Are you up for a night out in London?"

  "Not tonight." He was just looking forward to getting home and no training session tomorrow.

  Harry had always known he was different from the rest of the football team. And it was never more apparent to him than at moments like this. By hiding and denying his very nature, he'd curbed his emotions to such an extent that he couldn't experience the elation of success with the other guys. By hiding his feelings, he didn't have them, he'd completely annihilated them.

  Maybe that was why he was one of the team's more mediocre players, lacking the drive and passion of the likes of Eric, Jason, and Carlos, because he couldn't share the joy of victory to the same degree.

  Harry closed his eyes, let his head fall to the side, letting the movement of the vehicle lull him to sleep.

  Considering he did nothing about the fact he was gay, it took an awful lot of energy. And he felt isolated most of the time when surrounded by his teammates. Harry only had a reprieve when at home. And with his closest friends, even though they didn't know his secret. Jason, Scott, Liz, and now Carlos also counted as a close friend. Now and again he was tempted to confide in Scott, but wasn't sure why.

  He alone on the bus had committed to celibacy, and not through choice, but necessity.

  Meeting Scott at the beginning of the year and discovering his teammate Jason was gay, was a revelation to Harry. A discreet relationship wasn't a route open to Harry. If his family found out about his evil desires, they would disown him. If he acted on them he wouldn't go to heaven, and if anyone else found
out, his career in football would be intolerable and as good as over.

  "Harry, you must join us for drinks in Brum. Celebrate the win."

  "Yes, I'll be there." It's not as if Harry had any place else to be. "We meeting up at the usual place?"

  "Yes, and going on to the Night Owl."

  Carlos had plans. Jason had Scott at home. Everyone had something to do, but Harry would go back to his apartment alone.

  CARLOS

  "I heard you've got plans for tonight, but if I can tempt you to stand them up, I've got an alternative celebration suggestion. It involves a fridge full of beer and a deliver-to-my-door pizza menu. What do you say?"

  Carlos asked as soon as the taxi pulled away from the football club for the final couple of miles of their journey home.

  "It sounds decadent."

  "I thought you might like to stay in with me, and watch films and drink beer. But don't tell anyone from the club, especially about the high-calorie takeaway pizza which is most definitely not part of my prescribed diet."

  "I thought you had plans?"

  "Yeah. I do have a plan, and it didn't involve all of that lot." Carlos grinned. "My plan is to spend the night indulging with you, drinking beer, eating sinful food, and watching films."

  "Really?" asked Harry. "I had you down as more of a party animal given the opportunity."

  "I know how to party, Harry, don't challenge me." Carlos chuckled. "I haven't forgotten tomorrow morning. We are meeting your mom for church."

  Harry looked surprised.

  "You're serious about that? I thought you were joking."

  "Of course. I'm stocked up on supplies for a night at home and an early night."

  The short trip was over in minutes, and Harry stopped off in his own home briefly before going to the lower apartment.

  Inside Carlos's apartment, he handed control of the evening's TV schedule to his guest. Carlos dug out a couple of pizza menus and put them on the table in front of the TV. He then went to dig out beer. He brought out eight bottles of lager in a cooler bag.