“Are you going to say anything?” he asks.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. He’s… gay? Like homosexual?
He waves a hand in front of my face. “Uh, Amelia?”
Then I do probably the worst thing you can do to someone who just revealed something huge. I laugh. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’m nervous. Maybe because it suddenly all makes sense. “You’re gay.” I nod my head and draw out my words. “You’re gay. Ohhhh.”
Dad rubs his forehead. “Are you okay?”
I stand up straighter and point to myself. “Me? Oh, I’m fine.”
“Really?” He tilts his chin, watching me.
“Sure.”
When he waves a hand in front of my face, I squirm backward.
“You don’t care?” He scrunches his face and bends to my level, looking for my eyes.
I think about how to answer in a way that’s more appropriate than laughing. I grab his hands. “I care about you. I don’t give a shit who you sleep with.”
“Amelia! I don’t think that’s an appropriate response.”
He rubs his forehead again, and I can’t help but laugh. “So wait,” I say, holding up a finger. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been paying Penny, what? Thousands of dollars to keep you in the closet?”
Dad grimaces and shrugs.
I smack him on his big arm. “You idiot. That’s the dumbest money you’ve ever spent!”
“What? How do you figure?”
I stick out my chin and flip my hands to the ceiling. “Who gives a fuck if you’re gay? It’s not that big of a deal.”
Dad sits, and I join him. He’s sweating and huffing, massaging his temples and cringing.
“Sweetheart. You say that because you’re a liberal college kid in New York City. I have fans. All types of fans. Fans that pay money to hear me talk. Fans that support me so that I can call the games and be on television every week. Fans who buy my jerseys and pay for my autograph. I have an image to protect.”
I sigh. “Oh, Dad. If they’re truly your fans, they’ll love you no matter what. And if they don’t, who cares? I think it’s well-established in the record books that you’re awesome.” I rub his back and try to ease his worry, and then I freeze again. “Oh my God. You and uncle?”
He stiffens. “No! No, no, absolutely not. That’s another reason I kept my mouth shut. I don’t want to drag him into this. He’s saved me so many times. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s my brother.”
My father has been called the best quarterback ever to grace the game. His size, his physical toughness, and his brains have been revered in the sport my entire existence. Yet I’ve never been so fascinated with the man sitting next to me. “Does Uncle know?”
“Yes. He’s the only one.”
I stand and pace again. Thinking, processing. This is a bit weird. “When are you coming out, for real?”
He stands and walks to his bar, pouring himself another drink. “Never.”
I stop moving and turn to him.
“What?” He takes a few quick sips then refills. “I’m not going to do anything that’s going to hurt you or my legacy. You think I make this money for me? It’s all for you. My life is for you.”
I bite my lip and smirk. “Well, that’s dumb, and you’re making excuses.” Ben had said the same thing to me.
He freezes and stares at me. “Excuse me?”
I march to him and touch his arm, and then I take his drink away. Last thing I need is for him to drink himself into oblivion. He doesn’t object when I take a sip. I shake the burn off as the whiskey makes its way down my throat. Then I look back up at him.
“First of all, it’s going to come out one way or another. This stuff always does. But more importantly, you have to have a life, Dad. For yourself. Fall in love and all that crap.” I wave my arms around, hoping to push aside the image of my dad with another man. I was serious when I said I didn’t care, but still, it will take some time getting used to. “You deserve to be happy. You can’t hide who you are.”
I sound like Ben.
I walk to my dad and he embraces me. “Oh, Amelia. I thought you’d hate me.”
I grimace. “Are you nuts? Why would I hate you for being you?”
He reaches for my hands. “I never wanted to have this conversation with you. I’m sorry about Penny. I’m sorry that she gave you a false hope that you could have more than just dumb old me and your crazy uncle. I know you wanted more, a mother, a woman to talk to. I should have married someone after Annie died, someone nice who could have been there for you. I’m so selfish.”
I don’t respond to his nonsense about marrying someone for my sake. As much as I wanted normal, I wouldn’t have wanted that. “What’s selfish is not going public with this,” I say, pulling him into a hug. “Think of all the people you could help.”
He shakes his head and pulls back to look down at me. “And hurt you in the process? No way. This stays between us. It’s nobody’s business anyway.”
“You’re a public figure.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to share my personal life.”
It kind of does, but I don’t argue. I try another approach. “How will you ever fall in love?”
“Love’s overrated. You’re all I care about.”
I hold my father tightly. He’s right. Love is overrated. Sex is one thing, but love? Love is for the normal people like Maggie and Juliet and Chase, who need to be worshipped and fawned over. Love is for people who aren’t strong enough to trust their instincts and deal with their own lives. Love isn’t for people like me and Dad. We do just fine on our own.
“You’re all I care about too. I want to be here for you. Me, you, and Pisser, like it was meant to be. We, together, make up the team. Everyone else can go screw.”
Dad chuckles. “In case I haven’t told you, I think you’re pretty perfect.”
I wipe a tear on his shirt. “Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“About this gay stuff.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t mind, really. I only have one rule.”
He huffs. “What’s that, princess?”
I smile against the tear stains on his shirt and look up at his face. “No football players,” I say sternly through my giggles.
He scoffs and playfully smacks me on the head. “Smart ass.”
I do my impression of him. “I’ve been in locker rooms.”
He nods and takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay. Have you had your fun yet? Go on, get it all out.”
“Small-town Pennsie quarterbacks, especially since they, you know, they do drugs and rape people.”
“Uh-huh,” he groans, nodding. “Speaking of small town Pennsie quarterbacks—”
I hold out a hand. “Not tonight, please. I’m all out of emotion.”
“I think you should give him a break.”
“No. I’m done. I’m done with Ben and Sheridan. I don’t belong there. It’s too hard, Daddy. Ben, he’s just too much. Love is overrated, right? I want to come back and live with you. Away from Ben, away from the memories of Frank.” Away from all the feelings I’m forced to confront when I’m around all the normal kids.
I think he’s going to object, but maybe he’s all out of emotion too, because he kisses the top of my head and says, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
I squeeze him harder. My Hall of Fame, star quarterback, national broadcaster, aging, gay father. Talk about a shit show.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ben
I sit on the floor of the hallway across from room three, under the mural of Megan adorned with the daisies I’d drawn, waiting for her to get back. I don’t know if she’s going to the city or coming to Sheridan, but after seeing her walk out of her mother’s house in the middle of the night and into her father’s car, I don’t want to miss the chance to talk to her. She won’t answer her phone, and I need to know she’s okay.
Even though it’s close t
o midnight, my floormates are awake. Thankfully, they know not to ask me what’s going on as they pass back and forth, discreetly checking up on me. Chase sits next to me silently for a little while. Juliet brings us coffee and disappears into room one. When Chase leaves, Rocco walks by and pats me on the head.
Finally, after one a.m., the outside door opens and Megan appears in the hallway, bundled up in her puffy coat and her boots. She stomps the snow off her feet and shakes her hair, and then she pulls off her gloves and rubs her cheeks. When she looks up and sees me, she freezes.
I can tell she’s been crying. She’s an ugly crier—her face is red and her eyes puffy. She walks over and slides down the wall next to me.
I don’t say anything. I should have thought about what to say, but I didn’t. Now I’m at a loss for words. We sit in silence, shoulder to shoulder, facing her door.
Finally, she speaks. “I don’t think I can stay here.” Her voice is high pitched but soft. I don’t respond, so she continues, “I thought I could do it. I thought I could be away, be independent. I don’t know what I based that on. Obviously, I’m an idiot.”
I don’t argue with her.
“This year has been nothing but drama. You, Juliet, Frank, Pooja, my mother, and now my father.” She pauses. I think she’s going to cry, but she doesn’t. “I’m not strong enough.”
I feel her eyes turn to me. “I like you, Ben. I really do. But I’m not ready for you, for any of this.” She waves her hand at the mural painted in our hallway and then looks up to Frank on the ceiling. “I’m going to move back home.”
We sit, her staring at me and me staring at her door. I want to object, to yell and try to convince her that she’s wrong. To make her see that she is strong enough and she is ready for me. But I’m tired. I’ve done nothing but fight for her since Valentine’s Day. I don’t want to fight anymore.
Finally, she asks, “Do you have anything you want to say?”
I shrug. “I wanted to make sure you were alright after you saw your mother. Obviously, you’re not. If you want to run, I’m not going to stop you. I’m out of the ‘saving people’ business, and you’ve made it clear that you aren’t interested anyway.” I stand and try to walk away, but I can’t. Not just yet.
I squat down in front of her, and she looks at me through tired eyes. “And you’re right. This year has been nothing but drama. But guess what? That’s life. Life is nothing but drama.”
She bites her lip as she studies me.
I touch her nose, maybe for the last time. “You live it, or you don’t. If you find someone willing to help you through it, you’re lucky. I thought we were lucky. I guess we’re not.”
I put my hand behind her neck and pull her close to me, kissing the top of her head. She drops her head on her knees as I stand up and walk back to my room.
Megan
“Oh, like hell you’re leaving,” Maggie yells, glaring at me through her thick-framed reading glasses with her hands on her hips. She’s wearing her pajamas and her long hair is in her “sleeping ponytail.” “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Mags, I—”
In a flash, Maggie snatches her hairbrush from the dresser and throws it. It whooshes by my face.
“Hey! Are you crazy?” I yell.
When she picks up a lip gloss, I shield my head. “You listen here, Megan Smith,” she yells as she points the gloss at me. “There’s no way you’re leaving me. Not after this year, Frank, Winston. No way. You’re the only constant here for me.”
Maggie picks up her phone. I take cover, but she doesn’t throw it. “I’m sorry. I’m leaving school, not you. I’ll be right across the river.”
“You selfish bitch.” She emphasizes each word. “Next week’s spring break. There’s only a few more weeks of school left after that, and you’re going to wuss out on me now? On all of us? Because of this woman you just met? What about Miami? Did you forget about our trip?”
I rub my eyes. I had forgotten about Miami. I don’t have the brain power to figure that out now though. “It’s been a long night, Maggie. Let’s go to sleep and talk about it in the morning.” I strip my clothes and dig for my pajamas.
“I understand that you wanted a mom and you thought you’d get one out of this deal. And I get that this lady isn’t your ideal pick. But for you to sit here and feel sorry for yourself—”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” I say. “I don’t feel sorry for myself.”
She stomps to me, and I’m afraid she’ll hit me. “You absolutely do.”
I hold up a hand to keep her at bay. “I’m going to sleep. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
Maggie spins around and storms out, her ponytail flying behind her as she slams the door. I lay on my bed, praying for the night to be over. I shut my eyes to make that happen.
Then Frank walks in.
“Hey, Smith. Wake up.”
“Frank?” I wake and stretch before walking to him and trying to touch his face. “Oh my God, Frank! I miss you so much.”
He smiles a bright full smile, and his eyes look greener than ever. They look me over. “I know you regret not sleeping with me when you had the chance.”
I laugh. “Totally. We all miss you. We don’t know how to go on without you.” I move to touch him, to tousle his red hair, but my hand can’t reach.
“I’m not there anymore, but you all are. It’s simple.”
“It’s not simple.” I shake my head. Nothing is simple. “Tell me what to do.”
“Don’t leave, Meg. Yeah, your mommy turned out to suck. But don’t run home to daddy. Gay or not, he’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. So can you. You said you wanted to find your own life, not to live through his.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No ‘yeah, buts.’ You need to be here to find yourself. To realize your dreams. Don’t quit because it’s hard. Don’t quit because your dad came out of the closet, or because I died, or because Ben wants more, or because your mom lied to you. Stay and fight through. You know what I always say?”
“What, you pain in the ass ghost?”
Frank smiles, and I’m warm. “Life’s messy, Smith. Sometimes it takes a big shit on you. You can live covered in shit, or you can clean yourself up.”
“Ew.”
“Listen. Deal with yourself okay? Then move on and deal with yourself some more. In between the dealing, you’ll end up having a life of your very own. Like you want.”
I sense him leaving me, fading. “What I want is for you to stay. Please. Just stay.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Then can you visit me every night?”
“If you need me, I’m on the ceiling. Damn, Chase did a good job on your walls.”
“He did. You’re beautiful.”
Frank looks at me with his sweet eyes, his dimples flaring. “You’re beautiful too, Smith. You can do it. Don’t be afraid to let them in.”
“I’m going to stay asleep forever so I can keep you here.”
“Doesn’t work that way.”
“I love you, Frances O’Leary.”
He blows me a kiss as he disappears.
When my eyes open to the dark room, I sit up and look for Frank but see only Maggie asleep in her bed. Frank’s gone. It was just a dream.
My body heaves, and I can’t pull in enough air as I sob. I cry for Frank. I cry for Pooja and what she went through with the awful man who killed Frank. I cry for Ben and his lost dream and for Rocco and his lost friend. I gasp and cry for Chase and Juliet. I cry for my mother and father, for Brendan, for Aunt Annie and Uncle Pisser. What was it Frank said? Life’s messy. All of our lives are messy, not just mine. We all need each other to help clean up. Ben said we were “lucky.” Are we “lucky”?
I try to stay quiet so I don’t wake up Maggie. But I can’t breathe, and I have to blow my nose. In the moonlight peeking through our windows, I see Maggie roll out of bed. She takes the tissue box from her dresser, walks to me, and then moti
ons for me to move over.
She hands me the box. “Here. Blow.” I dutifully take a tissue and clean my face, and she squeezes into my bed next to me. When I lay down again, she spoons me and uses her fingers to comb my hair off my face. “It’s all going to be okay, Meg.”
I let the motion of her hands and the warmth of her next to me lull me to sleep. I’m not sure I believe her though.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ben
I wake up with a headache, but there’s no way I’m going back to the doctor. I think the headache has less to do with the car accident and more to do with what’s going on in my life. I pick up the bag I’d packed, rip a piece of paper out of a notebook, and use one of Chase’s color markers to write a note. I tape it on the door as I leave.
Going to stay in the frat house for a few days. I’m fine. No worries.
The guys at the house offered me the spare room to rest, study, and recuperate. I think they have an ulterior motive of getting me involved with the team, but I don’t care. I’ll listen to what they have to say. Maybe they can light the fire under my ass. Regardless, at this point, I’ll do anything to get out of Sheridan. I can’t breathe here anymore. If I can just make it to the weekend, I’ll be home for my brother’s wedding and spring break, and everything will be better.
I tie up my boots and zip my hoodie, grab my bag with a few sets of clothes, my laptop, and my bathroom stuff, and trek up campus through what’s left of the snow to the fraternity house.
I remember the Halloween party at the house. I’d hung out on the roof with Megan listening to Monday Night Football. Jules had disappeared, and Megan and I were hiding from the party. She was dressed as a cat, with little black ears on her head. Later, Frank climbed up too and started whacking us with his light saber from his Luke Skywalker get-up. The three of us got shit-faced and stumbled down to the party a mess. It’s a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves.
She Runs Away (The Sheridan Hall Series Book 2) Page 27