Chapter 10 #2
“Salt water and football. That’s me,” I say back with a smile, looking at the waves coming in, lit up by the streetlights behind us. “I’m sure one day life will take me away from here, but hopefully wherever I end up still has a beach.”
“From the looks of how the school’s got your face on a huge banner right now when you walk into the University Center, I’m sure when you go pro, you’ll have your pick of ocean views.”
I let out a short, breathy laugh. The kind where I don’t even open my mouth for it.
“We’ll see. And I don’t know who the school or my coach has on retainer, but we took those photos literally a week ago and now they’re getting put up everywhere.
I actually saw one heading to your cousins’ thrift store downtown and almost swerved into that Jesus statue in front of the church off Shoreline.
It’s like a jump scare every time I see them, as good as I look in them. ”
“And he’s humble,” Vale teases through a chuckle, shaking his head.
“I also said they’re scary,” I push back, nudging his side.
“It’s like, every time I see them I know it means I’m being seen, and the work I’m putting in is being seen, and they’re a sort of promise of a payoff at the end.
But it also means that I can’t mess up. They’re a reminder of how high I’ve set the bar for myself, for a team that’s always been at the high fifties, low sixties in the rankings.
I don’t want to let anyone down not being able to meet it consistently. ”
“I’m sure that can feel overwhelming at times.”
“Yeah. I’ve always been pretty bad about putting too much pressure on myself, being my own worst critic or whatever.
And that was before all this. It’s so different from high school, and I don’t think I really figured that out until I was three games in and seeing myself on the internet and big signs in the University Center. ”
“That just means you’re good, right? That everyone is in agreement, you could do this for the rest of your life if you want.”
I smile, letting that point sink in. As much as it also sits in my gut. “That’s where it gets scary. There’s lots of people I can’t let down. I’m trying not to let it freak me out; to focus more on the excitement and love of it all, you know? Remembering that, in the end, it’s a game. It’s fun.”
“And when you’re playing at a World Cup, it’ll all be worth it.”
“Exactly. You’re going to be wearing my future M é xico kit, right?”
“Obviously,” Vale answers, pushing his weight into me. “As long as you sign a ball for my dad. é l es el mayor fan á tico del f ú tbol.”
“?Verdad?”
“S í .” Vale shakes his head as he lets out a laugh. “Obsessed. It’s like I can’t escape futbolistas.”
He takes the rest of the plastic off the top of his cup, leaning it up to his mouth and letting some ice and leftover tapioca balls fall in.
And then he hands it to me so I can do the same.
The crunchy cold, the sound of waves rushing onto the beach, the feeling of body weight on me, as much as I know Vale’s trying to be careful not to fully lean on me, the quiet; it’s relaxing.
Exactly what I needed today. Just when I thought Philosophy was going to completely ruin my day, in comes this guy.
“Is it weird that we were making out yesterday and now we’re here?”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asks back, his eyes showing some concern that maybe he’s walking over a line I never invited him to cross, and he starts pulling himself away from me. “I—”
“ No ,” I say, my hand not even waiting for my brain to make a decision before going around his back, to his waist, and bringing him back, holding him to me.
“Nah. Don’t worry. I’m good, I just … it’s unexpected.
If someone had told me this is how I make my first non-athlete friend in college, I would’ve said they’ve got a funny imagination. ”
“Honestly, if you weren’t straight and hooking up with my best friend, it’d feel right out of some super cheesy Netflix series that gets cancelled after two seasons.”
“Sorry to disa— Hold up . Leana told you about us?”
“She told me she was hooking up with ‘a guy on the soccer team,’ ” Vale says, his head turning to the water. “When you walked into the store and I saw her face, it didn’t take a whole lot of reason and logic to figure out who you were to her.”
“She tell you anything else about me?”
His head turns back to me with a smile and eyes that are saying oh yeah , even though he only tells me, “Maybe so.”
“Hmm,” I chuckle. “Alright. I see how it is. Keep your secrets.”
“But I’m not disappointed. Promise. Nothing to be disappointed in. I could use another friend.”
I focus on the feeling of his skin on my fingertips. On how not disappointed I am too. “Sit by me tomorrow, yeah?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” Vale says. “Nothing against who I’m sitting next to now, but he chews gum so loudly I nearly screamed in the middle of you and Coolidge’s discussion last week.
And if you need some help, I could be available as, like, a private philosophy tutor-slash-study-buddy for the struggling futbolista. ”
Oh, shit. I remember now. It wasn’t a librarian in that video I’ve still got open on a tab in my phone. It was a tutor. That’s right. A solid twenty-two minutes.
“You really wouldn’t mind helping me keep up?”
“Of course not. Especially if it means I get to maintain distance from the chewing. And we don’t have to figure out all the details now and plan a whole study schedule. Get through this essay, and we’ll go from there.”
“Cool. It’s a date.”
Looks like you’re about to go up to number two, little bro , Barrera texts me about thirty minutes after I got back from hanging with Vale, while I’m doing my best to actually try to fill five pages with something that sounds like reasonable thoughts.
Barrera sends a link, looking like some Florida International University news site, with an article titled, Torrey Comes Out and Heads Out .
I’m only just starting to read it when he FaceTimes me, immediately all, “Congrats, Pi n a.”
“What’s this about?” I say, assuming he’ll give me the rundown so I don’t have to do more reading than I’m being forced to tonight.
“One of FIU’s freshmen who was on the list with you came out as gay. Said that he felt like he needed to with all the homophobia around. I mean, in a state like Florida, they probably would’ve kicked him off the team if he hadn’t quit.”
“He quit?”
“Oh, yeah. That was part of it too. Didn’t feel safe around his team and having to hide his joter í a. Pues, they’re better off without him. That kind of shit around? Nah, not in my locker room, that’s for sure.”
“I—” I go back to the article, only half listening to Barrera talk his shit.
This guy, Carter Torrey—a white-boy name if I’ve ever heard one—was super promising, was brought up in club teams, had it all going for him.
“You don’t think that they’re losing someone who could be really good for them?
Boy’s talented, it looks like. Shouldn’t his team be supporting him? ”
“Why should he expect everyone around him to change just for him? To fucking go soft just for one person? Nah, he’ll be fine. If some team in California or New York wants to take him in and have him lead their little parades, they’ll pick him up.”
“So, you’re saying if there was a Carter Torrey on our team—”
“He wouldn’t be. I already said it. Not in my locker room.
Not on my squad. We’re just getting to a point where we’re being taken seriously.
You want some little bitch carrying a Pride flag around to be the face of our team?
Nah. I want those of us who’ve put in the work and guys like you who are setting us up for years to come to be getting that attention.
And I want us to be comfortable. A brotherhood.
We’ve got that. Some joto would break it all.
So if it ever happens, you break them first.”
“You—” I’ve got the words in my chest. You’re wrong.
You’re being an idiot and homophobic as hell.
I saw the same sort of shit happen in high school, and for some reason I thought maybe, moving on to a college squad, we’d have also graduated from this kind of stupid-ass hate.
That we could all be better than that. I want to tell him so.
That he should be better. That, having lived it, I can say with my whole heart that having a gay teammate doesn’t break a squad.
It showed me who the punks were, that’s for sure. But, besides that, nothing changed.
Instead, all I let out is a tired “Yeah. Sure.” Because he’s not someone I’m trying to create discourse with in the middle of the night.
And because, as fucked up as he’s being right now, I don’t want that to destroy the really good relationship we’ve got going on.
My team captain taking me under his wing?
I should be okay looking past this really asshole-y part of him that’s only come out one day out of the now nearly couple of months I’ve known him.
“Pi n a. Bro,” Barrera says, some sternness in his voice.
“I thought you’d be happy about this. One less guy for you to worry about.
Sure, he’ll get some attention, everyone who’s fucking riding the LGBT’s dicks are going to want to give him his fifteen minutes.
But, after that, it’s you and your shutout and your future and this team adding even more Ws to our record. Alright? Damn. Be happy.”
Yeah. Be happy. At the very least because it’s not me he’s talking trash about.
Not that he’d have a reason to. Also, at least he’s not looking for me to agree with his shitty take.
And, even better, he’s not out on the streets talking about it.
If he’s keeping his honesty between me and his boys on the squad and it stays that way, I think I can swallow down all the words I’d like to tell him.
“I am. Sorry. I just—homework.”
“Chingale. Well get on it. Don’t want you getting behind only a week in. And if you are, I better not find out it’s because of that girl. Time management, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. For sure. Night, Cap.”
“Night, little bro.”