Chapter 4
Jett
One of the things my doctor asked me to focus on when moving to Eugene was to count my successes. Not only the big ones, but the smaller ones, like making a new friend or going to the movies. So I count them, and making it through my first week as an assistant coach is a success. A huge success.
I’m mentally exhausted and physically wiped out, but I’m happy-ish and hopeful for the first time in a long while.
I think I’m good at it. It’s all about balance, which is something Dad never understood.
You have to know when to push and when to stop.
To know when a word of praise is better than a word of criticism.
It would’ve mattered to me if Dad hadn’t pushed me beyond that invisible line, where you start breaking little by little.
I’m also not supposed to disappear, to make sure I check in with those closest to me, like Janelle.
My sister and I made a deal that every Saturday afternoon, we would talk, and today it’s my turn to call.
The phone rings a couple of times, then she answers, out of breath. “Jett! Just a sec. Owen! Let the damn dog out! He’s driving me insane! Sorry about that. How are you?”
“I’m good. You sound busy. Did I call at a bad time?”
“No! Just my life in a nutshell,” she laughs. “Damn dog dragging mud all over my new laminate floors.”
“Ugh, sorry.”
She sighs as a chair being dragged across the floor sounds in the background. “Okay, baby brother, I’m all yours. Tell me everything about your exotic life in Eugene.”
A laugh bursts from me. “Exotic? Hardly.”
“You know what I mean. How was your first week?”
“It was good.” I pause, remembering the small things that matter. Inhaling deeply, I put it out there. “It was really good, actually. The other staff members are nice, and the students are cool too.”
“And…?”
For fuck’s sake. She’s really going to make me say it? I sigh, wiping my hand across my face. It’s just words. I won’t jinx anything by saying them out loud.
“And I think I did pretty good.”
“Yeah?” I hear the relief in my sister’s voice. After I was released from the hospital, she tried not to pressure me by showing how much she wanted me to be better, happier, and healthier. I hear it now, though.
“Yeah, it’s fun, actually. I mean, I still have a shit ton to learn, but it feels… good.”
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispers, and I know she has tears in her eyes. My eyes are fucking stinging, too, with how much I love her and how grateful I am that the universe blessed me with my sister.
“Thanks, Janie.” I lean back on the couch, feeling strangely relieved. It felt good sharing my successes, and the world didn’t end, at least not today. “So, enough about me, let’s talk about you.”
“You sure you wanna know?” She laughs with the familiar warmth in her voice.
“I wanna know,” I smile against the phone, because I do, and I don’t want to disappear. Not anymore.
So, Janelle tells me about her insanely happy life.
For the next thirty minutes, we chat and laugh at random shit.
She bitches about Owen and brags about her kids with equal amounts of fondness.
She hopes this year they’ll be able to go on a family vacation and leave the restaurant in the hands of their employees.
I tell her that if she wants, I can take the dog, and I regret it instantly.
I hate dogs. They’re noisy, dirty, and clingy.
“Okay, baby brother, I gotta go. I have to take Mason to his piano lesson before I drop the kids off at Mom and Dad’s.”
My stomach sinks at the mere mention of Dad. “Okay. Say hi to everyone.”
“I will.” Janelle pauses before she nearly blows out my eardrum shouting. “Fuck! I almost forgot. Did you check your mail yet?”
“No. Why?”
“Go check it then. The kids sent their favorite uncle something.”
“I’m their only uncle,” I murmur, but my chest squeezes nonetheless. I love those kids. They brought me life when I thought I had nothing left.
Janelle groans. “Whatever. Just fucking check it, because they’ll keep nagging me until you do.”
I laugh. “Sure. Now go back to your amazing life.”
“Okay. Go have an amazing life yourself, baby brother.”
I’ll try.
“Love you, Janie,” I say, keeping my voice tight and from breaking.
“Love you more.” Then she’s gone, and I place the phone against my chest.
In the beginning, I tried to get better for Janelle and the kids. Now, I try for myself. I try so hard to have a good life, not necessarily an amazing one.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be one of those ecstatically happy people, like that Wes guy.
He seems like someone who goes through life with an ever-present smile glued to their lips.
Everyone has bad days or days when they want to shout at the world, but overall, Wes seems like a ‘glass-half-full’ kind of guy.
Well, I managed to put a frown on his face.
I’m sure he hates my ass. No more ‘Mr. Amazing.’
I cringe at how I keep calling him Wilson.
Of course, I remembered his name was Wes.
I can’t explain why I did it. I just felt like…
I don’t know, digging at him. He seems like he’s got it all together, which annoys the shit out of me.
For some people, it’s a front, and you can tell it is, but with Wes…
I don’t think it’s fake. He really seems genuinely happy and…
nice, I guess. It was a shit move calling him that.
Maybe I should explain, so Wes isn’t so annoyed with me, that Wilson is actually a compliment, and not me being a dick, which I was.
Wilson Kipketer. My hero. The Kenyan-born 800-meter runner who won gold for both Kenya and later Denmark. He was a two-time Olympic medalist. He broke the world record multiple times and is considered one of the greatest sprinters in history.
But that’s not the only reason Wilson is my hero. He was always so fucking humble about his own achievements. A good sportsman. A good person. Always had that huge fucking smile on his face, just like Wes. The kind that reaches the eyes and makes the person glow.
Wes is exactly the kind of guy I used to be attracted to when I still had a libido. He’s got that disarming boy-next-door look. He’s charming, but in a dorky kind of way. He seems like a flirt, but I’m not sure yet how deep that smoothness goes. Mostly, he reminds me way too much of my ex.
If there ever was a person who had his shit together, it was my ex-fiancé, Anthony.
That’s why Mom and Dad loved him, worshiped him, actually, despite not quite being on board with me being gay.
They were, however, very sold on my Stanford Law graduate fiancé.
Image-wise, he was just the right fit for me.
A successful Black man headed for a future as a district attorney or private practice lawyer.
Together we could’ve been the ‘it couple’ if I hadn’t fucked everything up.
I met Anthony at Stanford, where I was studying Kinesiology and Physical Education.
We met through friends, and within six months, we were engaged.
He swept me away; there’s no other word for it.
I’d never been in love before. Looking back, I think it was more infatuation than love, but at the time, Anthony was everything.
He was three years older than me and taught me everything there was to know about being with another man. I’d always known I was gay, but Anthony became my sexual awakening, and my entire life outside of running.
I get up from the couch and head into the kitchen to prepare a quick dinner of salmon, pasta, and a salad.
Anthony is in the past where he belongs.
I’m in no hurry to meet someone or fall in love.
Am I attracted to Wes? Sure, but I’m not ready, which is why I did not stalk his Instagram last night before I went to bed.
Or browse YouTube for a video of that 8:31.
8 run Jenny was fangirling over. Absolutely not, I didn’t.
If I’d done that, I would’ve noticed how good he was and how happy he looked when he threw himself at that other guy, Dennis, after he won.
I would’ve noticed the thrill of running, and not just of winning, painted all over Wes’ face.
A thrill I lost over the years, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.
After dinner, I watch a random action movie, and it’s not until I get ready for bed that Janelle’s voice pops into my head. ‘Go check your mail.’ Shit. I’m in a pair of basketball shorts, but I quickly swipe a T-shirt from the floor, sniff it, then throw it on.
I take the elevator down to the lobby. It’s nearly deserted aside from a familiar figure leaning against the mailboxes.
Wes. He’s in shorts, cutting mid-thigh, revealing his toned runner’s legs.
He’s barefoot in a pair of those ugly Adidas pool slides, but somehow they look perfect on him.
His white T-shirt is wrinkled just like mine, like he was also getting ready for bed before he remembered to check the mail.
He’s hunched over a book, reading. As I approach him, I clear my throat, and he looks up with a smile that soon turns into a frown as soon as he recognizes me.
“Hi,” I say, waving awkwardly.
“You live here?” He tilts his head and furrows his brow.
“No, I just randomly walk around lobbies at night, looking at mailboxes.”
He huffs. “Right.”
“I was just gonna…” I motion toward the mailboxes, and he steps aside.
“Sure.” His glare transforms into a slow smile, and his striking blue eyes twinkle. “Sorry. I just went down a rabbit hole.” He holds up the book and turns it around to show me the cover. Love in Overtime.
“I don’t know that one,” I blurt lamely, taking in the colorful cover picturing a soccer field. “It looks…” I search my brain for something that won’t sound like I’m trying to be an ass, because I’m not, and I settle on “interesting.”
Something sparks in Wes’ eyes, and then his lips start moving at a rapid pace.
“It really is! I mean, I know fuck all about soccer, but so far I love it. I’m only halfway through the third chapter, but it is so good.
” His eyes almost roll into his head, and it looks… sexy. His enthusiasm is fucking sexy.
“You’ve read three chapters in the lobby?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs and bites his lower lip, which just adds more fuel to the I’m fucked fire. “I was just gonna read the first paragraph, but it sucked me right in and then… you know…” He chuckles low in his throat, then looks at me expectantly.
“Yeah…” I scratch the back of my neck as the silence builds between us. I can’t remember the last time I read a book just for fun. Maybe I should.
“So, aren’t you gonna check your mail?” Wes asks.
“Oh, yeah, sure. Of course.” I open the mailbox and pull out a stack of envelopes and junk mail.
It’s all boring stuff, like bank statements and car loan payments.
The letter from Mia and Mason isn’t there.
I don’t know when they sent it, but I hope it didn’t get lost. I can’t shake the disappointment.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just… I was expecting a letter from my niece and nephew. It’s nothing, really…”
Something flashes in his eyes, then he smiles widely, pulling something from his pocket. “So this is you, then?” he winks. “Who would’ve figured?” He hands me a bright blue envelope with a couple of rainbow and unicorn stickers on it. “Not just a great runner,” he reads, “best uncle, too. Aww.”
I frown, accepting the envelope, and our fingers briefly touch.
It’s just a light brush, skin against skin, but heat courses through me.
I’m suddenly too aware of everything, like how close he is and how he smells like he just showered, fresh and clean.
Then my traitorous mind wanders to thoughts of Wes in the shower, water cascading down his tight body.
Great. I shake myself and focus on the letter.
On the front, just above my address, it says in childish print, ‘To the best uncle in the world.’ My chest squeezes.
“It ended up in my box. I’m an only child, so…” Wes shrugs, then rushes out, “So, this is you? I didn’t know, since there was no name on it. I was gonna drop it in the returned mail box.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, clutching the stack of letters against my chest.
“No worries.” He smiles, then nods at the elevator. “Anyway, I’m gonna head up.”
“Yeah, me too.” I trail after him. He presses the 11th floor, then lifts a questioning eyebrow at me, his finger hovering above the floors.
“I’m on the 12th.”
“Ahhh, you’re right on top of me.” He waggles his eyebrows, then presses number 12.
I don’t know what comes over me, but heat shoots down my spine at his words. Before I can stop it, I blurt, “Suits me just fine.” And there it is, my damn libido, back in full action.
Wes’ eyes widen, and I realize they’re the nicest shade of blue I’ve ever seen, light, almost translucent.
His mouth falls open, like one of those cartoon characters.
Then he laughs, his entire chest rippling behind his T-shirt.
His lofty voice fills the small space, and I laugh too.
Not as loudly as Wes, but a laugh that grows from my belly and bubbles all the way through my chest. I usually hate being this close to other people, especially in a confined space like this.
It can be suffocating. But this feels oddly… nice.
“Really?” he asks, his smile crooked. I just shrug, then look straight ahead at the elevator doors. I don’t trust my mouth if I keep looking at him.
“Interesting,” he hums, then demonstratively uses the book to fan himself. “Very interesting.”
Way too soon, the elevator stops, and the doors slide open. Wes walks out, then turns, clutching the book against his chest. “Goodnight.”
I lick my lips. I want to say it. Say his name. Wes. It’s right there, on the tip of my tongue, but something holds me back. “Goodnight, Wilson.”
Something flashes in his eyes, then he shakes his head, looking at me blandly. He mumbles something that’s lost forever as the elevator doors slide closed.