Chapter 33
I KNOW IT’S NOT the same, but it’s not impossible , Kat texted me while I was on the pitch, doing sprints up and down the field, drills, anything to keep me busy.
I ignored them for a solid hour, drinking enough water to keep me going and back to forgetting about my phone.
The chill and the ache in my muscles are doing the best they can to keep me distracted.
I’m still angry and sad and lost and weak, but every time one of those words came across my mind, it was one more drop down to the ground and jump back up, as quick as I could, my hands in position to block an imaginary ball, and ten more pull-ups using the goalpost. I won’t stop thinking those things about myself, but maybe I’ll tire myself out enough that words like sleepy and exhausted and I need a shower will become louder.
When I finally open their text, back at the housing complex, sitting outside on the back of my truck, hoping my roommates don’t look out their bedroom windows and see me looking like a loser in the parking lot, I click on a link to an Instagram post. It takes me to a picture of an Australian pro footballer taking a knee looking at this guy, his boyfriend, his fianc é , both of them in the middle of a pitch.
The caption mentions him as the first openly gay footballer in the country.
Talks about how good of a player he is. How, even with the hate that’s obviously going to be part of his life, so many teams and so much of the organization over there have supported him since he’s come out.
Kat’s right. It’s not the same. As happy as I am for this guy, more than that, I feel jealous.
Good is relative. And the amount of worth a player has, based on how good he is, is only relative to the community and culture.
Sure, coming out in Australia sounds like it could be terrible.
I don’t know much about it, but I’m not going to assume it’s the easiest place to be gay.
It kind of gives Texas but with way less Mexicans and a weird accent and more snakes. I just—
What made him finally say enough is enough? What gave him the courage to see it through? How does he continue to play even knowing guys in his own squad might hate that he exists?
It’s not impossible.
No. But it’s scary. And I’ve already lost one person who was really important to me. What happens when I start losing even more people?
I swipe over from Instagram to those pictures of Vale and me, once again getting lost in memories and—
“The fuck are you doing, Pineapple? Aren’t you cold?”
“Huh? Oh.” I look up at Leana watching me hang out on the gate of my truck. “I—I’m fine. Needed some air.”
“I think this is maybe the first time I’ve seen you wear pants since I’ve met you and of course they’re those soccer pants.
At least they aren’t those kind that only go to the calf.
I hate those. Like, I am personally victimized whenever I have to see someone wearing them.
” She gets all the way over to me, giving me a quick up and down before asking, “Mind if I sit with you? I was needing some air too.”
“Uh, sure,” I say at first. And then, “ Yes , please sit with me,” when her face is showing some real that’s not enthusiastic energy.
I watch as she hops up, ready to help if she needs it.
She gets comfortable, a solid few inches of space between us.
And, for a couple minutes, it’s quiet. Nothing but the voices coming from somewhere in another apartment or townhome and a late-November cold front and her eyeing the soccer ball in my hands, holding out one of hers until I hand it over.
“Night practice?”
“Something like that. Was training for a while.”
“By yourself?”
I shrug, watching her spin the ball between her fingers. “Yeah. I’ve gotten used to it. Figured out some drills that work when it’s just me.”
“So how long were you out there getting some air before you ended up here getting more air?”
“Hour and a half? Maybe two.”
“Hmm,” she says. “Makes sense now, hearing how you got some big awards. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, my eyes going down, watching my feet swing in the air. And I let a big breath out, looking like a dragon.
“Again with the lack of enthusiasm,” she replies, half joking. “I was expecting you to tell me all about it, every single goal you’ve saved that earned you those trophies, how you jumped and caught the ball and then … scored a point?”
I side-eye her, letting out a laugh. Maybe the first time something like that has come out of me in a while. “Sorry, I just—life’s kind of shit right now.”
“You want to talk about it? Unless it’s, like, about some girl drama and it’d be weird for you to ask me for advice or something. As much as I would completely be here for that kind of chisme.”
Another short laugh as I shake my head. “No. Not about a girl.”
But, do I want to talk? Yes. So much. I want to yell about this and scream at the universe.
Is Leana who I pictured being the ideal person to let it out with?
I don’t know. Leaning toward probably not.
It’s not as if we’ve gotten anywhere close to a point where I’m letting her in on all my personal shit.
I wouldn’t expect her to come to me if she were in anything close to my shoes.
But I don’t want to go back inside, wishing that I’d taken this chance to be honest with someone.
Especially because P é rez’s wisdom only lasts for so long before he’s quoting anime monologues.
There might be some benefit to talking it out with someone who I, once, really cared about.
And really care about still, just not in the same way.
So, following a deep breath, letting out all the nerves, I tell her.
“I’m bi.”
She looks at me, taking it in and nodding. “Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay? ”
“Well, one, and don’t be mad because no one told me, I knew. Or— I at least knew that this probably wasn’t girl drama.”
“I … How did you know?”
“If I told you that I knew there was something going on between you and Vale, would that make you uncomfortable?”
“How … when did you—”
“He didn’t tell me. Let me put that out there now.
He always kept the two of you a secret. But, how did I know that my best friend was dating someone and trying his best not to tell me?
How did I realize it was you? The way you two look at each other, how easily he’d pick going to your games over hanging out with me, it wasn’t as difficult as either of y’all assumed. ”
“ Damn. Okay. Heard.”
“Call it bestie intuition plus knowing what you look like when you’re falling for someone and a little bit of knowing how to read context clues. And seeing how you look when you’ve fully fallen for someone.”
“I get it, I’ve got some tells.”
“Some very obvious ones,” she adds, smiling at my glare and eye roll. “So, that’s that. But, two, what were you looking for me to tell you? Cool? Congrats? Nice?”
“I don’t know. I think some part of me might’ve thought you’d be a little weirded out since we … had a thing.”
“Hot girls aren’t biphobic, Pineapple. Now, continue.”
“Noted. But, after you ended things between us, Vale and I started hanging out more. And that really quickly became me realizing I felt something for him. Well, not quickly. Quickly in me feeling a type of way about him, and then taking a while for me to let myself feel that way about him. Realizing that maybe it could be okay to feel that way about him.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“ I get it , I go from ‘need help with that box?’ to ‘looking for a boyfriend?’ fast,” I say, my hands moving from right to left with the words.
“Coming to terms with being bi and all that, it took a little while longer. And some of it I’m still battling with.
Not that I hate being bi; I hate that being bi and being an athlete and being Mexican makes my life really hard.
As much as I love being all of those things. ”
“I can imagine. My dad and my brothers have said some really shitty things when they’re together and think no one is judging them for it.”
“When I thought I was some nor— Well, not normal, but straight guy, everything in my life was so much easier. And I knew that it wasn’t going to get easy overnight.
That maybe it won’t ever get easy. Definitely not as easy as before.
Most of our dads and brothers will still be like yours tomorrow. No offense.”
“No, please. Offend them. They need it sometimes.”
“But Vale and I wanted to try. So we did. And now it’s over because of me, and I’m not doing great.”
“I’m sorry that things didn’t work out. I always thought that you two were pretty perfect for each other. He always seemed so happy. And if it meant I never had to watch Logan with him again, or that new cartoon X-Men, you were doing me a favor.”
Another laugh, an actual one, comes out this time. And, while the weight is still there, my shoulders start feeling a little bit lighter.
“We are. Were. I miss him. And every time I look at those trophies, it’s a reminder of what I’ve had to give up. So, yeah, thanks for the congrats. Really. But I’m having a hard time being happy about them.”
“Gabi,” she says, her head at an angle, eyes like she’s about to speak some truth.
And, with her pulling out my actual name like when my mom says Gabriel Cualli, I know she’s not playing around.
“Do you really think you got those awards or titles or whatever because everyone around you thinks you’re straight?
Do you think that was the deciding factor? ”
“I—no, but—”
“ No. Exactly. They gave you those trophies not because you were the best at pretending to be straight but because out of a whole field of boys kicking a ball around, you are the best at it. You are an overachiever. An overaccomplisher when it comes to this game. You don’t stop.
They gave you those trophies because you are as good as people say you are. They aren’t lying. I promise.”