Futbolista

Chapter 36

I LET OUT A nervous breath as I pull up to the curb in front of my parents’ house.

Pops is sitting outside, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle.

We didn’t get a chance to talk after the game last night.

By the time I had a minute alone, it was after midnight in Texas, and maybe part of me didn’t want to catch them that late, but I was also scared.

I didn’t want to come back from such a great night—the greatest night of my life so far, debatably—and cap it off with hearing my parents say that they never want to talk to me again.

That my Pops can’t have someone like me for a son and that my Mom can’t let go of all the futures she’s imagined for me that could look a lot different now.

I texted him earlier, my phone shaking in trembling fingers, telling him that I was back in Corpus and on my way over, and I never got a response back.

My video, winning the championship, the Defensive MVP, all of the feelings about them are blended together, have been marinating through plane rides across the country, and, at this point, are not sitting real well in my stomach.

If the worst happens, it happens. I figure out what comes next.

But I’d also really like to not have to face the worst. How am I supposed to be brave enough to stand up to the whole world if one of the most important people in my life can’t look me in the eye? Won’t call me his son?

I climb out of my truck, close the door behind me, and take slow steps around the front of it, to the walkway.

When I get closer, I realize Pops has got earphones in, the wired ones because he doesn’t trust AirPods, the white string going from his ears into his pocket.

It’s not until I’m nearing the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch that he plucks them out, fishes for his phone, and puts it all down next to him.

I stop as he stands up, watching as he walks my direction, down one step, and then another, and then one more, step by slow step until he’s on the concrete path in front of me, between me and the house, staring me down.

“Pops, I—”

He nearly lunges at me as he wraps his arms around me.

I get caught on a breath, surprised, halfway into defensive mode, honestly.

But then, when I realize what’s happening, when my brain clocks that I’m safe, I’m overwhelmed, all the fears I’d been holding in washing away in my Pops’s arms. And I hug him back, gripping his shirt, and whether from happiness or relief or both, I start crying.

He just holds me tighter, a hand coming to the back of my head.

“I love you, boy.”

“You’re not ashamed of me?”

“Gabi—” He grabs hold of my shoulders, giving us an arm’s length of space, and he takes a long look at me.

Sees so clearly on my face everything I was holding in, how hurt I’ve been, everything about myself I’ve been battling with, and everything I’ve been through in the last half year.

Sees the person who made it through all of that.

But I see him too. The man who introduced me to the beautiful game. Who’s pushed me to be as good as I am. His eyes are red and wet, and he’s got a serious smile across his face.

I’m taken back to that day he always talks about, when I was half as tall as I am now, if even that, teary eyed then too, looking at my Pops’s face as he held me.

Maybe the first time in my whole life I was scared of a big change happening and just wanted my Dad to tell me that it’d be okay.

And, now, years later, here we are again.

“Nothing you do, nothing about who you are could make me ashamed of you. Never. ?Entiendes? Eres mi vida.”

I nod, trying to hold myself together. The hardest part is over. I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.

“I’m scared for you. And I … it took some time.

I had to sit with this for a while. Not because I’m mad at you, but because I’m mad that it’s not going to be easy for you.

I’m mad that I can’t fight everyone in the world who will wish bad on you.

And I was surprised.” His lips go into a curved smile as he lets out a huff of a laugh.

“When I said go have fun and try new things, I didn’t imagine ending up here. ”

“Are you really going to take credit for this?”

“When they start making your documentary, maybe. But I … have you seen what they’re saying? Have you looked at your video?”

“No. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I don’t—I want to be happy about all this right now. I have a lot to be happy about, and a lot I still need to do. I don’t want to give anyone who’s only brave behind a phone screen my attention.”

“There are those. And they make me angry. I wish I could protect you from them. For their sakes, I better not run into any of them. There are always going to be people who are going to have something to say about this, about you, and who are only going to approach you with bad intentions. And I hope you stay careful, mi’jo. I want you to stay careful.”

“I will, Pops.”

“But there are also a lot of people who are so, so proud of you. Who are calling you an inspiration and their hero. Who see you and are standing with you. Remember what I told you your first day of classes? Here’s where it gets difficult, but you’ve got this.

You’ve got so many people behind you. You’ve got so much to show because of how hard you’ve worked.

Your drive, Gabi, is second to none. You’re going to be great. You are great.

“The world needs you on that pitch, just as you are. And me, your Mom, we’ll be there cheering you on. Pues, we should probably go inside and tell your Mom you’re here. She found out that y’all have your own flag—los bisexuales—and now she’s online buying one and a pole to fly it from the porch.”

I try to hide how cringey that makes me feel, biting on my bottom lip, and forcing a nod. “She really doesn’t have to do that.”

“Let her love you, boy. And when it comes in, you’ll need to come put it up for her. We’ll hang it by the M é xico flag.”

I follow him up the steps, onto the porch, and when he stops, turns around, and looks at me, his hands coming to my head as he pulls me close and kisses my forehead, I let him.

I let him love me. I hold on to every second of it, extra grateful to know with total certainty how much he’s got me.

To have no doubt in my mind that he and Mom have my back, no matter what.

To be reminded that he’d do anything if it meant those he cares about would be a little better off.

“People you might never, ever meet will be cheering you on,” he says.

“Kids that look just like you will grow up knowing nothing is as important as their dreams and staying true to who they are because of you. I told you that you are growing up into a man who is so much more than anything I could’ve hoped for and I still mean it. I mean it more and more every day.”

I bring up a fist, wiping a tear from my cheek. And I force a laugh out, a breath of relief that leaves behind a smile. “Thank you, Pops. I love you.”

“I love you too, boy.” He hugs me again, this time giving me those strong slaps on my back. “Pero, te puedo preguntar, Vale; you and him are together?”

“Were , ” I tell him, giving him a quick rundown of what’s been going on and letting him call Barrera everything he can think of (obviously staying far away from how my former team captain found out about us).

“I—I really like him, Pops. I … I’m in love with him.

And I reached out to him, hoping that maybe he’ll take me back.

I haven’t heard from him yet, but it’s only been a day.

And I’ll do whatever I’ve got to to show him I mean it. ”

“He’s a good boy. I know it’ll be painful if he doesn’t want to try again, but, if you try your best and that’s what happens, remember that you’ll live. You’re only eighteen. Heartbreak isn’t the end of your world. There are plenty of girl—of people out there. Okay?”

I take a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. I know.”

“But when he does, know that he’s always welcome here.

Pues, more than that. He’s got an invitation whenever he wants.

This is your home, Gabi. And the door will never be closed on you.

On either of you. You’ll go get him and treat him right.

But, before then, come inside. I’m sure your Mom’s going to want to make you lunch. ”

I will go get him. First, though, I need to focus on me real quick.

Plus, I think the best strategy would be to let Vale have his space for a little while longer.

I’ll go find him. When I finalize exactly how to show him how sorry I am and how much I want him back, I’ll reach out.

I don’t want to rush into an apology; I want it to mean something.

I want him to know that I’m serious about me and about us.

But, right now, I don’t immediately start spamming his texts, I don’t post the obvious thirst traps on my Instagram stories.

I don’t even spend time back in the folder on Google Drive, thinking about him nonstop as I look at my favorite pictures.

I toss my phone onto my mattress, far away from me and my desk.

And, with a bowl of my Mom’s chochoyotes and a blue Powerade at my side, feeling great after a spending a couple hours with my Pops talking about the game and life, I start working on a paper I’ve got to finish, preferably by the time the sun goes down.

I do keep thinking about Vale nonstop. But because so much of this paper is inspired by him.

Is about the me who grew and embraced change with him right by my side, whether as a friend or as a boyfriend.

The Gabi I was in August, the day before I met Vale, nearly a week into what was admittedly a great but short fling with his best friend, would look at who I am now and be like, “Huh. Wow. Wouldn’t have called that.

” And, honestly, it’s not a bad thing. Letting Vale into my life also put me in a place where I could look change in the eye and be okay walking toward it.

Maybe that embracing change part of the story took some time, and how much I was allowing myself to embrace these new, surprising parts of myself and fight for them has been up for debate.

But that’s also part of the journey. Frondizi himself says that this shit is hard, but using way more words.

I think about Vale calling me stubborn, and, yeah, I am, definitely more so than I thought I was.

When I met him, I was someone who knew that change and risk were parts of living, but, in ways that were going to affect me personally and intimately?

Nah. I knew everything there was to know about myself.

So fucking stubborn.

Now, though, I think Frondizi would be proud of me.

Yes, I still might say my level of understanding of what he’s trying to say is a strong “sort of.” But I get the gist. I get how I fit right into what he was talking about.

Change is hard. But we are not defined by who we were yesterday.

The Gabi I was this time last year doesn’t have to be the Gabi that exists until the day I die.

I’d be doing myself dirty if I lived like that.

Because that leaves no room to be excited about all the things I’ll learn about myself that are still to come.

And change, in lots of ways, comes around when we least expect or want it.

But if everything fit nicely into a box, we’d never grow.

We’d never discover parts of ourselves that could only ever come out when we need to be strong or brave.

And who we are at our most uncomfortable, the person we fight for on our darkest days, needs us to face that change head-on.

Because we’ll never reach the dreams and hopes of who we were yesterday if we aren’t brave enough or strong enough to see them through, or, at the very least, start planting seeds to, today.

Who am I today? I don’t know if I can put that into words easily.

I feel like I’m not a kid anymore but also like I’ve still got so much growing left to do.

I can see my dreams becoming a reality right in front of me, but I also would really like to learn how to enjoy every single day for what it’s worth.

Even the ones that are filler episodes. Especially the ones that are filler episodes.

I’m still a romantic at heart, but it turns out that my heart isn’t exclusive when it comes to gender.

I’m still a proud mexicano, but I’m also going to try my best to be better where my people fall short.

I wasn’t strong enough at times when I could’ve been.

But now I’m going to be. For the person I was yesterday, the person I am today, and the person I’ll be tomorrow and next year and five years from now, I will be.

And for everyone I care about. Everyone who’s been behind and beside me.

Everyone who’s helped me get here. Everyone who’s reminded me, especially these last few months, that my dreams are achievable.

That I’m smart and adaptable. That I can take the cards I’ve been handed and figure out how to make them work for me.

Or discover that, actually, they’re the best hand I could’ve hoped for.

And I think of how I’m going to make them proud one day. Maybe even Vale too, if he’ll let me.

I promise.

“Yo, Pi n a,” Ahmed says, knocking on my open door just as I’m sending my paper to Coolidge. “You’ve, uh … someone’s here for you.”