Fucking coward – that’s what I was.
Leave it to Dylan to be the better person. He always had been. “Great game today. A freaking two-hitter. That’s a record for you.” He lightly tapped my left arm, the one that was not currently wrapped in ice.
“Thanks, man. You too. I think they’re still looking for that ball you hit out of the park.” We stood there awkwardly for a few moments, neither one of us sure of what to say. That was when Reid walked up behind us and draped his arms over our shoulders.
“How come I didn’t get an invite to this little reunion, huh?” he joked, a smug-ass look plastered to his face and everything.
Dylan and I shared a sad look. What I hoped would pass for an apology flashed in my eyes. He nodded and in true “guy-code”, we spoke more words than our silence transmitted.
“Nick is having a party at his house tonight since there’s no practice tomorrow morning. You think you two sorry assholes want to join us for once?” Sometimes, I wanted to punch my little brother in the face for his wise-ass attitude, but then I remembered all the times our own father had done that to him.
That always sobered me.
It saddened me more than anything. Hell, it was the main cause of my own depression over the past few months – one I tried so desperately to conceal.
Of late, I was failing miserably at it. My grades had slumped way beyond the C range. I’d lost weight and barely had the strength and endurance to make it through practice six days a week. I’d love to say that my family noticed, but they’d actually have to care first, and let’s face it, that just wasn’t happening.
Reid may have noticed it, but he was fighting his own battles – ones that always involved our father. Deciding to push all of that shit to the back burner for a while was made a lot easier when Dylan chimed in, saying he would definitely be at the party.
With a quick jab, I elbowed Reid in the ribs and laughed as he gasped in feigned shock. “I’ll go, but you better not get so drunk I have to take care of you again.” I shot him a look and he swore he would only have a few drinks.
I knew better. Partying and getting himself lost in whatever flavor-of-the-night he wanted was his way of coping. It was a good thing for both Reid and me that I didn’t drink.
And that I didn’t take part in the all-night girl-fest he did.
Besides, one of us had to come home sober; the other one would need the protection.
A moment later, Reid was dragged away by a few of his friends, divvying up cash to hand over to Nick so his older brother could buy the alcohol.
“I should go get this looked at.” I lifted my arm slightly. Even though the arm didn’t need an ounce of attention whatsoever, I needed to get away from Dylan and his sobering stare. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Dylan nodded before I walked away and wordlessly returned his attention to his gym bag and his soaking wet shirt.
A shirt I couldn’t help but peel my eyes away from, something that really fucked with my head. Who the hell had I become? Keeping my sexuality a secret was possible; no one really asked since I was a baseball junkie, figuring I just spent all of my energy on the sport. I made the appropriate comments when the guys talked about a hot girl and learned how to dodge the tough questions about which of those hot girls I’d been with, but it was a small school in a small community, with an even smaller mindset.
Coming out was not an option.
Telling my best friend I had feelings for him was also not an option.
And I was okay with that. At least that was what I kept telling myself. Keeping it all inside was torturous enough, but still possible, as long as I kept to myself. But now, hanging out with Dylan again, even if it was at a party with plenty of other people, made me vulnerable to him.
To myself.
To the truth.
After a quick shower in the locker room, one that I delayed by seeing the trainer for a non-existent shin-splint, I went home, ready to face the angry music of my father.
“Maybe he won’t be home,” Reid offered up pointlessly before we turned down our block. Dad’s shiny, black sedan sat in the driveway – no such luck, I guessed.
I pulled up alongside the curb, not even running the risk of scratching it by parking next to Dad’s precious car. I often wondered if he loved that car more than us. Fuck it; I knew he loved it more than us. He couldn’t bear to see a dent on that, but it never bothered him an ounce to see a bruise on his sons’ faces. Ones that he’d put there.
Fucking asshole.
After he grabbed his bag from the back seat, Reid leaned over the hood of my car, folding his arms atop the roof. “I’m proud of you, bro. You threw a great game today.”
I was taken aback by his openness, but not by his kindness. “Thanks, man. But what’s with the sudden outpouring of support?”
He angled his head back to the house where our father surely sat, waiting and drunk, to rip into us about what we had done wrong, rather than congratulate us on what we had done well. “I just know he won’t tell you any of that, and you deserve to hear it today.”
I walked around the back of the car, a huge smile plastered to my face. Draping an arm over his shoulder, I put him in a fake chokehold and scrubbed my knuckles back and forth over his head. “I’m proud of you, too.”
“Noogies? What the fuck? Are we five?” he joked, straightening out the hair that now flopped down into his eyes.
We both shut up as we approached the front door, knowing better than to sound like we were actually having fun. I heard Mom and Dad talking inside, but they weren’t yelling.
Sadly, this struck me as odd.
Reid and I dropped our bags in the front mudroom and carefully peeked into the family room where our parents were sitting across from each other. Their conversation stopped and with sad and defeated eyes; Mom looked up at us.
“Oh, hi boys. I didn’t hear you come in.” She stood and walked over to us, wiping subtly at her face. With her shoulders slumped and her face drawn, she did everything she could not to look at us. As she stopped in front of us, though, I could see the unshed tears in her eyes. Rather than letting them fall, she blinked them back and lifted her arms to pull us both into a tight hug. “I heard you boys won. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there. Your father told me the game was a close one.” She stepped back from the hug and scanned our faces – for what, I’m not sure, but her own sadness was so clear on her own. “I’ll make you both something to eat,” she said softly as she broke away from us, stepping toward the kitchen.
“That’s okay, Mom. We’ll grab something in a bit.” She looked so tired, so beaten down, I couldn’t fathom asking her to take care of us when we were more than capable of doing it ourselves – when the thing she really needed was for someone to take care of her.
With a subtle nod of her head and a crooked, but warm smile, she walked upstairs. After we heard her bedroom door click closed, Dad angled his head to the sofa. Knowing the drill, Reid and I sat down, awaited our verbal lashing for being complete and utter failures even though we won the county championships.
It was like being in the same room as Medusa – you never wanted to look right at him because you’d turn to stone and crack under the pressure. He shocked the shit out of us when he grunted, “Good game today.” His words were barely audible and if Reid’s face hadn’t reflected the same look of shocked disbelief that I was sure was on my own face, I would never have believed that he’d even spoken them.
He looked toward the stairs, seemingly distracted by whatever had passed between him and Mom before we walked in. “It’s not States or anything, but it’s a start.” His insult should have hurt more than it did, but maybe that was why he lead with the “good game” comment. But, to be honest, something seemed off, like his demeanor shifted or something like that.
Knowing better than to question why he was going easy on us, after all, I did let up two hits and Reid struck out once, we just nodded in silent agreement and watched as he foll
owed behind Mom up into his room.
“That was fucking weird,” I muttered when I heard the bedroom door close.
Reid stood from the couch. “Whatever. He’s a fucking asshole. Let’s go. I want to get to the party.”
We thought about telling Mom and Dad where we were going, but once we heard their voices filtering out into the hallway, we decided against it and just got our stuff ready to leave for the night. A note on the counter would have to do. Besides, by the time we got home the next day, whatever they were arguing over would have passed and they wouldn’t have even missed us.
We both changed quickly and raced back out the door before we were told not to. By the time we got to Nick’s, the party was in full swing. Most of the guys hadn’t even bothered to stop home after the game, their parents satisfied with a quick call or text. That would never pass with our dad, so we didn’t even bother it.
It wasn’t worth the black eye.
Nick came up to us, two cans of beer in his hands. “Here you go, boys.” He tossed the beer and Reid popped his open, not worrying about the foamy spray that hit his shirt.
In my two years of Varsity baseball parties, I’d learned better than to protest when anyone handed me a drink. I just nodded my thanks, cracked open the beer and carried it around with me, never taking a sip from it.
I was too afraid to let my guard down. Too afraid to numb the pain. Because if the pain was numbed, then what else would I have.
“Hey!” Dylan called out to us from the beer pong table where he’d just successfully landed another shot. We walked over to him, bumped fists, and when his teammate sank the last shot, his game was ended.
“I’m up next,” Reid moved into Dylan’s spot as Dylan stepped to the side.
After tossing his empty water bottle in an open garbage bag in the corner, he walked away from me without saying a word. I could tell something was wrong simply by the way he stalked away from me. I watched him slink out the sliding glass door, into the backyard where he could be alone.
I scanned the room, took stock of everyone else, and came to one conclusion: they were all fucked up. Aside from Reid, who had only just gotten here, everyone else had a solid hour-and-a-half head start. Most of them would be throwing up in another hour. It never ceased to amaze me how shitfaced a bunch of high school athletes would get just because they didn’t have practice the next morning.
Fairly certain that no one would see me if I followed him, I slid out the same door and walked across the backyard where I found Dylan sitting under a large weeping willow tree.
I sank down next to him and cringed a little when I saw him shift away from me. “What’s your problem?” I asked, genuinely not knowing.
“Seriously?” He nearly yelled as he squeezed his hands together, draping them in between his bent knees. “You haven’t spoken to me in fucking months,” he seethed. “You cut me out of your life. We’ve made it through the majority of the season and you haven’t said two fucking words to me since you…” The words he wanted to say vanished into thin air as he checked over his shoulder to make sure no one else had followed me outside.
“Found out you were gay.” Quietly, I finished his sentence for him, letting the words I had feared so much actually tumble from my mouth.
“Yeah,” he sighed and hung his head in his hands.
“How long have you known?” I asked. We both stared out at the gigantic in-ground pool sparkling in the moonlight before us, neither making eye contact.
He chuckled, and even though he moved away from me a little when I sat next to him, I could still feel the vibration of his body next to mine. Chills raced up my arm as his brushed against it when he turned to face me, but the ugly sneer on his face quickly pushed them away. “Why do you fucking care all of a sudden?” He stood quickly and walked over to the pool.
I gave him a few minutes to get settled on the edge of a lounge chair before I joined him. In all honestly, I needed the time to gather my own thoughts. Was I really about to have this conversation? Was I really about to open up?
When I sank down next to him, the itchy fabric of the cushion rustling noisily beneath me, I puffed out a frustrated breath and just hoped for the best. “Because I’ve been an asshole and a shitty friend and I’m sorry.”
He rolled his shoulders, shrugging off my words with a huffed, “Whatever.” The music playing from the house doubled in volume, and through the sliding glass doors through which we exited, we could see everyone had shifted from playing beer pong to dancing.
We watched as everyone grabbed their girl, or in Reid’s case, any girl, and started grinding together on the makeshift dance floor. Dylan tilted his head to the scene playing out before us and said, “Sometimes, I wish I could just be normal. It’d be so much easier.”
He mistook the flippant “pfft” that accidentally came out as a snide remark and shot me a look of disgust. “Like you’d fucking know,” he sneered once more.
“Maybe I know more than you think,” I whispered, staring blankly at the pool.
He turned toward me slowly and I wondered if he was afraid to fall off his seat. “Like what?” There was trepidation in his voice, an uncertainty of whether he should continue to ask questions.
Losing the battle with my courage, I said, “Nothing, never mind.” I jumped up from my seat and stood before him. “I’m going back in. See ya later.” However, before I could turn away, Dylan reached out and grabbed my wrist, encircling it in his strong grip.
We both stared at his hand and I had to wonder if he felt the same way about touching me that I did touching him. He broke the spell first, looking up at my shocked face. “No,” he pleaded, his voice turning a touch softer. “Stay. Talk,” he quietly commanded and I had no choice but to obey. Not because he’d yelled at me, or because he forced me to stay there with him.
No, what kept me there was the look in his eyes. The one that said he would understand whatever it was that I was about to say, even if I didn’t understand it myself.
What kept me there was the single stroke of his thumb along the soft skin of my wrist – a touch that told me I would be comforted even when I thought that was the last thing I deserved.
I looked down at my fingers wrapped around his wrist and my mouth went dry. Were we really going to have this conversation? I could see he was on some kind of edge, some point of no return. His admission, or self-acknowledgement, was right there, on the tip of his tongue. All he had to do was let it fall.
He had to know I’d be there to catch him.
Pulling his hand from mine, he turned away from me. “No,” he said definitively, before pulling on the ends of his hair – hair that I had somehow only just noticed was long enough to brush past his hazel eyes.
A loud crash from inside filtered out to where we were sitting and it drew our attention away from the stand-off in which we were currently locked, but, since it was followed by raucous cheering, we figured everything was fine.
I stood before him and grabbed for his wrist again. It hurt that he pulled away, but it didn’t stop me from reaching for it once more. “Come with me.” Wordlessly and seemingly defeated, by what, I was not sure, he followed me into the small pool house that was situated off to the side of the pool.
Since there was an outside shower attached, most of the pool house was hidden in the trees, covered from the sight of our friends who partied in the main house. Once inside, we were bombarded by the overwhelming smell of the chlorine that hung heavily in the stagnant air. In addition to the bathroom and changing area that were the main purpose of the space, there was a small TV room set up in the center of the pool house. Nick’s parents were loaded and this room was a testament to that. There was also a fully stocked wet bar and small fridge.
Shane and I sank down into the sofa and wallowed in the unsettled silence for a few minutes before I finally got up the courage to say something. “What were you going to say out there?” I tilted my head to the door. Despite my best efforts at keeping m
y voice calm, it still wobbled, thick with nervous anticipation.
“Nothing. I wasn’t going to say anything, all right.” Since coming inside, his defensive tone had softened a little, but he still wouldn’t look at me.
Because he still refused to look at me, I moved to the edge of the coffee table that was in front of the couch. My knees brushed his, but I didn’t pull back. “That’s bullshit, Shane. You were going to say something.” I reached for his hand and his shoulders slumped, his head hanging low. “You know? Even if you don’t tell me, I still know, but I won’t be the first to say it. It has to be you. These are your words to say. Just know I’m here to listen.”
“I– I–” he stuttered and choked on his words. “What if? I mean, how do you?”
His mumbled incoherence might not mean much to anyone else, but to me, it meant the world. It meant that clarity was on the horizon.
“What?” I just wanted him to spit out something – give me some kind of intelligible piece of information because I was not going to drag this out of him; I was not going to lead him on and make him say something he wasn’t ready to say.
“How did you know you were gay?” His question totally stripped me bare.
But isn’t that how I’d always been with Shane? Totally and unapologetically myself. It was what made me not deny my homosexuality when he first found out about it. I released his hand and squeezed mine together, letting them fall loosely in-between my legs. “I’ve always known, I guess.”
He placed his hand on my leg and I actually inched back, more out of shock than out of not wanting him to touch me. “No, not how long have you known,” he clarified. “I mean just how. How do you know, for sure? Have you ever…”
I knew what he was getting at; I’d asked myself the same kind of question over and over in my head and written about it countless times in my journals. In that moment, I chose to be bluntly honest. “I know because,” I placed my hand on top of his at my leg and laced our fingers together; “I feel this…crazy, unnamable feeling every time I touch you. Every time I look in your eyes, something shifts inside of me. Every time I hear you laugh… it’s just…”
Let Love Live Page 4