by Kim Oclon
I swung the car into Tyler’s driveway and put it in park. Tyler reached to take my other hand. The first time we held hands in my car we almost burned our arms on the console because the car had been baking in the heat during our morning workouts this past summer. “You’re going to get to play. Even if it’s some place far away like Minnesota.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and struggled to lean over the center console, knowing Tyler’s mom was still at work and his dad still sat in his car, just starting his long commute home. We still had time. And my car. Our little world consisted of this old brown boat with bad defrosters and a seatbelt that didn’t unclick the first time I tried. I kissed Tyler, my lips sliding over the Chapstick he just put on his lips.
CHAPTER 2
TYLER
I walked into my house to find my mom leaning against the island in the kitchen, flipping through the mail. She still had on her gray skirt and jacket from work so she must have just gotten home.
“Can you believe this?” She tossed something on the kitchen table so I could see it.
A guy in a tux with a toothpaste smile grinned up at me.
“Prom season already?” My mom gestured to the advertisement from the tux rental place in the mall. “Don’t they know I need time to slow down as it is?” She sighed dramatically.
“Hi, Mom,” I said. She did this on an almost daily basis, finding some reason to get all sad because of all the milestones approaching.
“Hi, honey,” she stopped her fake tears and gave me a squeeze on the shoulder and picked up the tux ad. “Do you want me to hang on to this for you?”
“No, that’s okay.” I walked over to the pantry, pretending to be busy looking for something to eat even though any appetite I had just left.
“Are you two going?” my mom asked. “Maybe you could get matching tuxes.” She smiled like she had just thought of the cleverest thing in the whole world.
I shrugged, scanning the boxes of cereal and protein bars my dad liked. “I don’t think so, Mom. You know David isn’t really out and I don’t think prom would be the place for us to make our first public appearance.”
She took a couple pots down from the hooks hanging by the stove. “I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I ended up grabbing a bag of pretzels and headed for the stairs. “I’m gonna do some homework.”
But when I got to my room, I dropped my bookbag on the floor and flopped on my bed to scroll through my phone. There were a ridiculous number of selfies of David and me, most of which were in my room or in his car. A couple were taken on the swing on the front porch.
Hidden hands. Secret kisses.
This wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be when David and I got to know each other last summer. I would run laps on the track in the morning before it got too hot and David would spend time in the weight room. Our paths crossed at the water fountain outside the field house. And then he gave me a ride home one time. I didn’t think that old car’s AC would work but I underestimated it…and him. I didn’t think I’d find a serious boyfriend when I started at Lincoln High School sophomore year. It was hard to tell if there were any boyfriends to even find.
I didn’t need to go to prom in order to prove that David and I were together. But I would have liked to hold his hand in the parking lot before we got to his car. Or maybe give him a hug when he came by my locker every morning.
He came close a couple times. But what would have happened if David didn’t pull back? What if he just went for it?
I ignored my bulging bag of AP textbooks, contemplating the answer to that question.
CHAPTER 3
DAVID
A few days later, as I was setting up a physics lab that would test the velocity of matchbox cars released at various inclines, a student worker delivered a pass telling me to go to Coach Kelly’s office. I automatically knew something was up. Coach never sent for any players during academic classes. Some of the guys would huff when asked to miss a few minutes of lunch and Coach would ask if they devoted as much attention to their classes as they did to the cafeteria.
As my shoes squeaked through the silent halls, I figured this summons had to be about college. The topic followed me everywhere these days. The weight room. My mailbox. My car. Mankato probably got in touch with Coach Kelly and told him “thank you but no thank you” and now Coach had the unfortunate job of telling me there would be no college ball in my future and because of that, no college either.
I smirked to myself, recalling Sinni was still an option. A letter about the school’s athletic programs arrived the day before. I barely skimmed it before stuffing it into the middle of my collection of college brochures, all advertising perfect campuses with freshly turned fall leaves and bright green grass in the courtyards. All the kids in the pictures looked like being able to study outside was the biggest thrill of their lives.
I nodded at the secretary, Mrs. Carlson, when I walked into the athletic office and sat in a chair across from her. Not all coaches were so lucky to have their own office, but Coach Kelly was also the assistant athletic director.
“You can have a seat. He’ll be with you in a moment.” Mrs. Carlson gave me what appeared to be a sympathetic smile, motherly eyes of concern and slightly upturned corners of the mouth, which confirmed my suspicions about the reason for the pass.
Maybe Parkside could still be an option. Maybe I could get two jobs this summer. Work somewhere during the day and ump at night and do doubleheaders on Saturdays. Sundays could be for me and Tyler. Loans weren’t an option. My parents wouldn’t be able to cosign for one because they were late on so many mortgage payments before they decided to sell our old house and found a smaller to rent.
The door to Coach Kelly’s office wasn’t fully latched so I heard fragments of his telephone conversation. “I haven’t even had a chance to talk to him yet and I won’t be able to if…” He sounded as if he just got cut off, sputtering a stream of incomplete words, only a scattering of isolated consonants and vowels.
From behind Mrs. Carlson, the rows of photographs of Lincoln alumni who moved on to college athletics made fun of me and my nonexistent plans. Confident smiles posed with a piece of equipment to signify the sport, some faded from years of sun exposure, others brand new having just been hung. A particular corner of the office was dedicated to Carl Howell, a player who signed a minor league contract the year before I got to high school, but it was still all anyone could talk about. Everyone was so sure they were going to be the next Lincoln player to go pro. Last I heard Carl was being promoted to Triple A this spring.
I heard Coach sigh a goodbye and hang up. The door fully opened as Coach Kelly firmly said, “Catherine, don’t put through any more calls from…” Coach stopped speaking when he saw me staring at him. “David,” he said a bit too loudly. “I didn’t know you were here already.”
I always thought it was weird to see Coach during the school day because he wore dress pants and a button-up shirt, as opposed to the T-shirts and sweats during practice. “I got a pass from you.” I held up the little piece of paper.
“Yes, I know.” Coach always seemed uncomfortable in his “Assistant Athletic Director” clothes. He undid the top button of his shirt as if it were strangling him. He tried to pull up his sleeves but must have forgotten that they were buttoned at the cuff. “Umm, come in. Come in.”
Coach Kelly ushered me into his office and made sure to close the door behind him before striding slowly to his desk. Since his belly was on the large side, he couldn’t push his chair in all the way. Many of the guys on the team ribbed him about it sometimes, asking him about his due date, and he always took it well, saying how he’d name the baby after anyone who hit for the cycle.
That Coach Kelly was not the Coach Kelly sitting before me. The one who just folded his hands and strained a smile. “I see you’ve been putting in some time in the weight room for the preseason conditioning. Glad someone is taking advantage of this time.�
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“Yeah. Mike’s been there too.” I wished he would just say that I didn’t have a future so I could go back to playing with the cars in physics.
“Good.” Coach nodded. “He’s going to do great things this season.”
“Is something the matter, Coach? Is everything okay?” I figured I could be the one to move the conversation along, letting Coach know it was okay to just say it.
Coach rested his hands on his belly and moved them around in order to find a comfortable place. If Mike were there, he would have whispered to me that Coach was trying to feel the baby kick. “Me? I’m fine. I’m doing fine.” The nodding turned into a slight rocking. “How are you?”
“Uh, I’m doing pretty good. Excited for the season.” Actually, I felt like I was either going to throw up or cry. I’d end up embarrassed either way.
“Good, good.” Coach continued to rock as I squirmed in a brown plastic chair. It would have been impossible to get comfortable in it regardless of the conversation.
Behind Coach Kelly’s desk hung a series of photos of all the baseball teams he had coached during his time at Lincoln. The most recent two photos featured me front and center. I hit my growth spurt later than the rest of the guys and was a little on the short side, so I had to sit or kneel in the front row of team photos. In Little League photos, Mike often posed in the front with me, each of us holding a bat or a glove and ball. By high school, Mike moved on to one of the middle rows.
“David, I have to talk to you about something.”
This was it. No college. Dreams shattered. Was it too late to start researching other options? A lot of people hadn’t made a final decision yet, right? “I know, Coach. I-”
“Now, I am not sure how to bring this up.” Coach tried to shift in his chair but got stuck by the armrests on either side of him. “You got a big season coming up and I know how much you need to focus on that.”
Big season? Maybe my last season. “Yeah. I’m waiting to hear-”
“What I’m trying to say is,” Coach plowed on, “there’s no easy way to say this.”
If Coach would just shut up for a fucking second I could tell him to save his breath. “You don’t have to,” I tried to cut in. “I’ll just-”
“So, I’m just going to say it.”
“No need, Coach. College-”
“David,” Coach sucked in a breath through his teeth, “are you a homosexual?”
Wait. What?
I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone punched me in the chest. Was I having a heart attack? Did kids my age have heart attacks?
Tension didn’t spread from my shoulders, it instantly consumed my whole body and twisted every muscle. “What?” I had heard the question and didn’t need a repeat but I asked anyway.
“I didn’t want to ask, and I wouldn’t have.” Coach Kelly shifted again in his chair, not finding any spare room. “But I’ve been getting these calls from some parents who don’t want their kids to play ball with a queer.”
I winced when Coach said that word. It sounded different when he said it.
My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. Parents? No one knew except for my family, Tyler, and Tyler’s parents.
“I told them I would ask so we could just forget about the whole thing, so that’s what I’m doing.” Coach Kelly’s neck was red despite undoing the top button. Plus, for being a big man, Coach didn’t really sweat off the ball field, but now little droplets clung to his forehead.
“Parents are calling you?” I stuttered on the “p.”
“Well, I guess a parent is more accurate. I know it’s crazy, son.” Coach shook his head at me like I was a T-ball player who didn’t get to play the position he wanted. “It’s Kaminski’s dad. You know how he is.” I knew what Coach was talking about. Everyone knew what Coach was talking about.
Kevin’s dad had been a member of the school board for the past six years, starting when Kevin’s older brother was a sophomore. He was the reason why money was set aside for new dugouts last year and why we were able to go to a tournament in Florida two years ago. However, he was also part of the reason why Catcher in the Rye couldn’t be taught anymore. Apparently it wasn’t a baseball story, just the ramblings of a drunk kid who couldn’t stop swearing.
“I know uh, he has an opinion about a lot of things.” This was not the way it was supposed to be, with Kevin’s dumb ass dad forcing me to talk to Coach about this. I was supposed to be in physics, with the matchbox cars, waiting to see my boyfriend who no one knew about, at the end of the day.
Glancing back at the wall of team photos, I noticed that even when they were kids, Kevin usually got to stand in the center of the back row, the place where everyone immediately looked. He wore the expression that most guys have in any sort of sports photo: slightly looking down at the camera with the head tilted back, mouth in a firm line, like it would be totally wussy to even think about smiling.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I could tell Coach Kelly was expecting an immediate denial and that maybe the two of us would have a laugh because Scott Kaminski was being his usual stupid self. Now it was turning into a very uncomfortable conversation for both of us.
Hell, I didn’t really want to have the conversation with anyone… yet. It was something I was still getting used to myself. All I had to do was get through the rest of senior year by glancing at Tyler in the hallways during school, and then giving him rides home after workouts and practices.
I liked the fact we had a secret. I liked our rides home and weekend nights, most of which were spent in Tyler’s bedroom because he had a TV and no little brother to share a room with. It was our safe world, just the two of us.
When Mike had asked me if I would take his girlfriend’s friend to the Homecoming dance, I had lied, saying my cousin was getting married that weekend. Instead, me and Tyler watched the Steve Prefontaine movie, Without Limits, and The Natural. We both fell asleep during Field of Dreams. The last scene I remembered watching was when Moonlight Graham stepped onto the field to take his only at-bat in the big leagues.
“I told him I’m sure it’s not true and there must be some sort of misunderstanding.” Coach jolted me out of Tyler’s bedroom and back into the stiff plastic chair in the athletic office. “Kevin says he saw you with someone from the track team, in your car, and you were…” His neck got redder as he dropped his eyes.
Were what? Watching a pile of slush spray my car? There was no way he could have seen Tyler lean into my lap. And even if he did, that didn’t automatically mean anything except that asshole sprayed shit all over my car.
Coach Kelly continued, almost talking to himself. “You know, maybe Kaminski’s just seeing things. We all know he likes the spotlight and can be a little dramatic. Remember that time last season when he cried about having to carry the bat bag and the helmet bag?” He chuckled slightly and tried to loosen his collar by moving his neck around.
That was ridiculous and funny. I tried to force my mouth to smile but I still couldn’t move.
“His bad eyes are no reason for his dad to cause a ruckus, right?” Coach sounded like he thought the conversation had come to an end.
Lying would be easy. All I had to say was, “right” but the words were clogged in my throat. All I had to do was simply nod, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that either. I felt like I was back on the bench press, struggling with a lift that was too heavy and threatening to crush me, only this time Mike wasn’t there to spot me.
Coach Kelly blinked a few times, waiting for my response. “I know he can be a lot to handle sometimes but Kaminski is one hell of a ball player. He’s our ace pitcher with a curve that has gotten better in the off season. Did you know he led the team in RBI’s last season?” Coach might as well have been talking to a new assistant coach. And I did know about the RBI stat. Everyone knew. “And you,” Coach pointed at me with his whole hand. “You are one of the fastest players I’ve ever had. You can get to anything on
the ground hit your way.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I said, unsure if I was being paid a compliment or not.
“Here’s the thing. We have the chance to go far this year. Really far. I’m talking all the way to State.”
I was able to nod. “I know.”
“I need everyone on this team to be able to…focus. Completely.” Coach looked at me like he expected an answer.
“Uh huh.” That was all I could manage. Coach was doing a great job of dragging this out.
“Yep, that’s what we need,” Coach nodded firmly. “Focus. Complete focus.” It was like he just revealed a secret play.
“Okay.” Was he going to keep me here until I gave him the answer he thought he was going to get?
“We can’t be…distracted. By anything off the field or anyone on the field.” Coach said. He was looking over my head. It was like he was talking to himself. “There’s a lot of players on the team and I can’t have one of them being distracted by someone else. That could pose a big problem.”
I sat upright, bashing my heel into one of the chair legs. “You’re saying I can’t play?” I wasn’t sure if that was what Coach meant by his sudden concern about someone lacking focus but that was what it sounded like to me. Kevin. His dad. All that crap. The thought of not being able to play never crossed my mind.
“No, no. Of course not.” Coach Kelly held up his hands as if to prove he was unarmed. “No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying that, there’s, uh, there seems to be a lot going on. I just need to know that you’re going to be able to focus on the game.”
I wondered if I was the first gay guy that Coach had ever encountered. Probably not. Just the first that he knew of. He was talking to me like he didn’t know about the three successful seasons I’d already had at Lincoln. “I’ve played on varsity for two years already, Coach. You know I’m focused.”
“I’m just thinking about all you have riding on this season. Between all this and college. Do you know where you’re going yet?”