“Nothing,” I deflect, with a roll of my shoulders, even though I know what he’s getting at.
An irritated huff fills the space between us. “You’re full of shit. You know that, right?” The mood lifts a little and I lean back in my chair.
Reid flashes me an inquisitive look. “Where’s Matt? I thought you said he was coming with you.”
I pause at the sound of his name, my beer a few centimeters from my mouth. I choke back the reaction I want to have and offer up the simplest explanation I can. “We broke up,” I say quickly with as little emotion as possible.
Reid shoots me a look. “You sound pretty okay about that.”
Rolling my shoulders isn’t enough of an explanation, so I say, “Yeah, actually I think I am.” And that’s the truth.
“Then what is it?”
“Nothing, okay?” I snap. There’s a don’t-bother-asking-for-more-because-I’m-not-saying-anything-else tone to my words. Reid catches it and luckily drops that line of questioning.
A few minutes pass in silence as we watch Maddy playing with Braden, their almost two-year-old son. A pang of sadness fills my chest. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that—a family, a love of my own, but it seems like that just isn’t written in my cards.
We both finish our beers and Reid leans forward in his seat. “Then if it’s not about Matt, whatever it is that’s bothering you lately, that’s making you all sorts of pissed off and angry, I just want you to know that I’m here to help.” His anger about my being late is gone. A sad look passes across his face, but he swipes it away as he scrubs a hand along his jaw. “Is it about Shane?” he asks uneasily. We’ve been rehashing the past recently so talking about him has been happening more than I’m comfortable with.
Hearing his name feels like I’ve just been punched in the stomach. My emotions knot my throat and I grind my teeth together. Through a clenched jaw, I grit out an angry, “No.”
Reid slips into counselor mode; it’s subtle, but I notice it. “Like hell it isn’t. Have you ever talked to anyone about him, about what happened? About what happened after . . .” His question trails off, not wanting to go there.
I don’t say anything. Not saying anything, I avoid making eye contact with him, afraid he might see the emotion in my eyes. I can’t say I’m surprised he sees the true cause of my problems. After all, he was the only one who went through it with me. Shaking my head, I rake a hand through my hair, beyond frustrated at this conversation.
Shane is a part of me that I keep buried. It’s easier that way.
“I think you should. It’ll help.” There’s compassion in his words, no judgment; there never has been from Reid.
“What are you some kind of expert or something?” I attempt to joke.
Reid laughs and stretches his legs out, leaning back in the chair again and interlocking his fingers behind his head. “Yeah, actually I am—got a degree and everything.” He gets serious again before casually adding, “And it’s been helping me, so maybe it could help you.”
I brush off the reference of him going to counseling, especially since I was the one who recommended it to him. Irony is a bitch like that. “I doubt it, but thanks for your professional opinion,” I spit out with more sarcasm than I initially intended.
“Fuck the professionalism, Dylan. We both know you feel guilty over what happened, maybe even more than I do and that’s saying a lot. Nevertheless, you’re miserable. You can’t move on. You drown yourself in work and make every excuse in the book to avoid any kind of relationship. I’m not getting all girly and shit on you talking about feelings and whatnot, but you need to talk this out. You need to let it go and move on.”
No matter how much I want to tell him he’s wrong, and I’m fine—that I don’t blame myself—it’d all be a fucking lie. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do need help.
For close to a decade, I’ve done nothing but blame myself. Hell, it’s even why I chose the career I did. If I help enough kids, maybe it’ll help alleviate the guilt I feel at not being able to help the first person I ever loved.
We sit silently for a few moments, the sadness over losing Shane weighing us down. “I miss him,” I admit quietly. “I failed him and it’s my fault. I miss him so much. I just want to go back and take back all that shit I said to him. I want to take it all back and maybe, just maybe, things could be different. No amount of talking to someone will change that,” I mutter barely above a whisper, afraid that if I speak any louder, my anger will boil over.
A pained look flashes on Reid’s face, but it morphs to one of compassion before he opens his mouth. “I feel the same way but there’s no sense in letting life pass you by over something that’s never going to happen. You can’t go back in time. You can’t take your words back, but you can be happy.” Reid’s face splits into a wide smile and I hear Maddy and Braden walk up behind me.
Braden nearly jumps out of Maddy’s arms as Reid walks over to them. “He stinks and I’m off diaper duty today.” Before Reid can even protest, Maddy is walking away from us and the stench that is Braden’s diaper.
“Just think about it, Dylan,” he says quickly as he tosses Braden in the air before walking into the house to change him.
After the party, I drive home. Alone. To my empty apartment. Where Reid’s words bounce around in my head.
But so do thoughts of Shane and what could have been.
Chapter One
July 22, 2006
“Ma!” I called out from the bottom of the stairs, my voice cracking just a little. “I’m going out with the guys. Be back for dinner.”
“Okay, sweetie. Take your hoodie in case it gets cold.” It was the middle of summer in upstate New York; cold was not an option, but rather than getting into it with my mom, I just rolled my eyes like any seasoned sixteen year old would, as I swiped my hoodie from the hook next to the front door. After I scooped up my bat, glove, and bucket of baseballs from the front porch, I made my way down the block to the Connelys.’
Shane and Reid had been my best friends for as long as I could remember. Even though Reid was two years younger than Shane and me, I couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been the three of us.
The glaring July sun was beating on my back as I walked toward their house. I moved my forearm across my face as the sweat dripped down my temples. It was a freaking scorcher of a day, but that didn’t matter to us. Baseball was calling and it was our job to answer.
As I approached their front door, I overheard some kind of shrill argument. Unfortunately, this wasn’t unusual. Shane and Reid never talked about it, but their dad was always angry at something. I waited for the loud voices to subside before knocking gently on the door. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I heard the lighter footsteps of Mrs. Connely, Rebecca as she insisted I call her, approach the door. When she opened the door, I caught sight of Mr. Connely, no first name niceties were insisted upon in his case, storming up the stairs—beer in hand.
“Oh, hey, Dylan. Come on in. The boys are just finishing up out back. I’ll go get them for you.” Rebecca’s bright smile had grown dimmer in recent years, yet another thing the guys rarely spoke about.
Rather than walking through the house—there was something just “off” about the place—something creepy and sterile all at once that made me say, “That’s okay, Rebecca. I’ll just walk around,” as I jogged off the front porch and to the side gate.
She smiled kindly and softly clicked the door closed before retreating into the living room. I couldn’t help but notice how her shoulders slumped just a bit as she turned away from me. I was no mind reader, that was certain, but I always considered myself a people person—eager and outgoing, interested in hearing what others had to say. Reading Mrs. Connely’s sadness was becoming easier through the years, and though I knew it was none of my business, I wished, for her sake and for my best friends,’ that it would just go away somehow.
“You guys ready to go play some ball?
I think everyone else is already there. Let’s go.” I was practically vibrating with the pent up energy of any teenage boy on summer vacation.
“We’re almost done. We’ll meet you there.” The dull tone of Shane’s words suggested that the anger I heard from their father when I knocked on the door hadn’t been directed solely at Mrs. Connely.
“What could possibly be more important than baseball, especially since camp starts next week?” I leaned up against the shed door as Shane and Reid worked inside, sweeping up the shards of glass from the window I had only just realized was broken.
“How’d you two manage that one?” I asked, tipping my chin down to the broken glass. I chuckled at Shane who was trying to coordinate using a broom and dustpan at the same time.
“Skills over there,” Shane angled his head over to Reid who was currently dropping another pile of broken glass into the garbage pail, “wasn’t paying attention and he tossed the ball straight through the window.”
“Shut up, ass. I was paying attention. You’re the one who took your eye off the ball,” Reid defended pointlessly as he picked up another pile.
“Whatever. Let’s just get this cleaned up before Dad gets even more pissed. Go ahead, Dylan. We’ll catch up with you in a bit.” As Shane busied himself with the last pile of glass on the floor, I recalled the harsh tones of their father’s yelled words when I first walked up to the door. So, rather than racing off to the ballpark to meet up with my waiting friends, I dropped my equipment outside of the shed and grabbed another broom to help them finish cleaning up.
In less than five minutes, we were done. At the same time, the gate to the backyard clicked closed after we raced through it to meet the rest of the guys, the back door opened in a rush as Mr. Connely stepped out onto the back deck, scanning the yard for his sons.
The field was only about a five-minute walk down the block, most of which was spent in silence. It was obvious that something had happened back at home, but neither Reid nor Shane wanted to talk about it. After catching sight of his friends, Reid sprinted the last few hundred feet, leaving Shane and me behind in his dust.
“I heard your dad yelling,” I said, aiming for the cool distance that any conversation between teenage boys required, but the concern was evident.
Shane lamely shrugged—the typical teenage boy form of dismissal. “Yeah, he gets like that.”
Maybe it was because nothing more needed to be said, or maybe it was because so much more had to be said—neither of us said anything else.
Since I had come from a very warm and loving home, I knew there was so much more to say to Shane. Knowing Shane had come from a home that was anything but warm and loving, he just kept his mouth shut.
Therefore, instead of talking about angry parents, we all enjoyed a Saturday afternoon baseball game. It was difficult not to notice Shane hit the ball with a bit more force than usual, that his throw had a bit more power behind it. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was Shane’s way of dealing with whatever was going on at home.
After sailing yet another ball out of the small park, Shane rounded the bases, touching every last one of them, pumping his arms in the air and being a general goofball.
“A little girl could hit the ball outta this park,” Reid jibbed at his older brother and tossed him a bottle of water.
“Yeah?” Shane chugged back half of the bottle in one gulp and then tipped his chin at his big-mouthed younger brother. “Then how come you haven’t? Pussy weighing you down, girl?” Shane jokingly poked a finger into Reid’s chest, laughing playfully as he did so.
All of us lost it in an uproar of laughter. The chuckling quickly ceased as Reid barreled into Shane, dropping him to the ground in one hard shove. Even though Shane was older, Reid was fairly well matched when it came to size.
“What the—” Shane’s curse was cut off as Reid shoved his knee into Shane’s ribs. Me and a few of the other boys tried to get in between the fighting brothers, but there was no use. By the time everyone else’s attention was brought back to what was going on, Reid was already landing punch after punch to Shane’s arm.
“Reid!” I called out, trying to shove my way in between him and Shane. “Leave ‘im alone. Stop punching him!” I yelled, louder this time, the volume of my voice finally getting Reid’s attention.
Grabbing him by the sweat-and-dirt-stained collar of his T-shirt, I tossed Reid back as Shane stood from the ground, brushing the dust from his mesh athletic shorts. Glaring at Reid, Shane just stared him down, not saying a word.
“I don’t like being called a girl, asshole.” Reid glowered and Shane backed off. A moment of understanding passed between them and I could only assume that it had something to do with their father.
In all the years I had known him, Thomas Connely had never struck me as a nice man. Fatherly, kind, and happy were not words I would have used to describe him. Rather, he was always snarling with contempt, anger radiating from him in a seemingly permanent fashion. Because I was always an intuitive kid, sensitive to other people’s feelings and always willing to listen to a problem, I told the other guys to head home. As I pulled Reid and Shane over to the beat-up old bleachers to the side of the field, I was determined to get to the bottom of this.
“Look, I know you two don’t want to talk about it and I’m not trying to get all touchy-feely, but one of you better tell me what the fuck is going on.” I tried my best to keep my voice stern and even, but the concern there was evident. In that one sentence, I felt years older and wiser than I actually was.
Both Shane and Reid simply sat there, wallowing in their silence, seething with something that was threatening to boil over at any second.
After a few more minutes of stilted silence, Shane finally spoke up. “He’s right. I shouldn’t have called him a girl.” The apology was sincere and hung heavily between the boys.
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have tackled you to the ground. Sorry ‘bout that.” Neither brother made eye contact with the other. Since I was an only child, I had to choke back a laugh at the ridiculous antics the two brothers shared.
“See, now was that so difficult?” I crossed my arms over my just-starting-to-get-muscular chest, a proud smile curling at my lips.
Both Shane and Reid rolled their eyes and shrugged, huffing a sarcastic “whatever” at me almost simultaneously.
“But seriously, guys, what is going on? It’s not like your dad was ever all that warm and fuzzy, but he seems . . .” I paused for a moment, searching for the right word without being too offensive.
“Like a gigantic douche?” Reid found the words for me.
“A massive asshole?” Shane echoed his brother’s sentiments.
“Yeah, a colossal prick,” I added as we all shared a laugh.
“He’s on me to win the states this year, like it’s only up to me—especially since it’s my senior year. I mean he’s always riding me about everything—always has been, but lately, he’s gotten this hair up his ass about me getting a top scholarship to a D-one school,” Shane confessed, seemingly lighter now the words were out of his mouth. “He told me since I’m going to be a senior in the fall, I need to get my ass in gear and start thinking about my goddamn future. That I can’t live off his dime forever,” Shane added with a touch more anger than his earlier words.
“We were working out in the backyard before you showed up,” Reid confessed before adding, “Not because we wanted to, though. He told Shane he had to throw one-hundred strikes before we could go anywhere.”
“And I was four away from that before you started complaining that your legs hurt and you missed that one that went through the window.” Shane’s words dripped heavily with accusation, something that was not lost on me.
“Mom heard the crash before Dad and she distracted him so we could clean it up before he saw it. By the time we get home, he’ll probably be too drunk to even realize the window is gone.” Reid paused for a moment before adding, “That must have been when you came over—when he was scr
eaming his head off at her for something instead of screaming at us.” He swiped a hand across his guilt-ridden face before Shane clapped him on the back, all signs of their earlier frustrations gone.
“Well, camp is next week, so we’ll just tear shit up and make sure you’re all set for the fall tournament and then Varsity in the spring.” I could only hope my words helped boost Shane’s confidence, but, at the same time, they also brought a more-than glum look to Reid’s face.
“At least you two lucky son’s-a-bitches get to go. I’m stuck here in bum-fuck nowhere while you’re gone for two weeks.” Reid popped up from the bleachers and kicked a rock, sending a cloud of dust up around us.
With the rest of our gear in hand, Shane and I caught up to Reid, reminding him that he only had one more summer left before he could join the sixteen-to-seventeen-year-old camp. It was mine and Shane’s last year since we’d be seventeen in just a few months and off to college next year—where? Shane had no clue, but I had a few prospects, all of which involved getting out of this place. We’d both discussed the possibilities of baseball scholarships and agreed it would be pretty cool if we could get into and play for the same school. I caught a glimpse of how pissed Reid looked at the prospect of staying home while we were away at camp, but I couldn’t stifle the bubble of excitement that filled my chest at the idea of getting away from this place with my best friend in tow for a full two weeks.
Later that night, after a normal dinner with Mom and Dad—one where they asked me how my day was and if I was excited for camp—I couldn’t help but think about what Shane and Reid’s night was like.
Did their dad lay into them even more over the broken window? Would Shane have another black eye like the one he did a few weeks ago? Since he was younger, and perhaps just more of a hothead in general, Reid was usually angrier about the whole situation than Shane was, but I could see the sadness in both of them, and I hated it.
But there was nothing I could do, and in all honesty, even though my home life was much happier than theirs, I had my own issues to deal with, my own secrets to keep. In the solace of my own room, with the moon light slicing through the window, I pulled out my journal. Pressing the pen to the paper, I let my mind create a world in which I didn’t have to hide who I knew I was.
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