Chapter 5 River #2
The school day couldn’t end soon enough. I slammed the front door of our house and took the stairs up, hoping for a few minutes alone to mentally put myself back together before football practice.
“River?”
My mother’s voice was weak but enough to reach me from her door that was cracked open.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, stepping inside. She looked so damn small in that big bed.
“I won’t keep you. I just wanted a word.”
“Of course.” I set my bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, trying for a smile. “What’s up?”
“Don’t do that, please,” she said gently.
“Do what?”
“Pretend.” She ran her fingers down my cheek and then tucked them into my hand. “You look frazzled. Or troubled.”
“It was a weird day at school. They voted me homecoming king.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re not thrilled?”
“You being thrilled makes me thrilled.”
“You’re the sweetest.” Mom hugged me, her body so perilously thin and frail in my arms, I feared I’d break her. “River, sweetheart, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Are you happy?”
I scoffed lightly. “How could I be?”
“I don’t mean about me. I mean everywhere else in your life. Are you happy? It’s your senior year…”
“Yeah, it’s going great. All five days of it so far.”
“Smart-ass.”
“Better than being a dumbass.”
“True.” Mom’s smile softened. “I just worry sometimes. Your father is so earnest and single-minded when it comes to your future—a life in the spotlight few people experience. But it doesn’t mean squat if it’s not what you want.”
“It’s not as simple as that. What I want…”
“Yes?” She leaned forward. “You can tell me anything. Especially now. Not to pull the cancer card, but…”
I snorted a laugh, but it faded quickly. “Dad and I have been working toward this for years. If I suddenly wanted something else, it’d break his heart.”
“Do you want something else?”
I thought about how to answer and realized I had no idea how. What would I do if I didn’t play football? Would working at the shop be enough?
“I don’t know,” I said finally.
“What about your heart?”
“What about it?”
She laughed lightly. “You do have one.”
“Not sure what you want me to say,” I said. “It’s…there.”
“That’s just it. It should be more than there. Your heart should be beating and alive and full of all the things that make you happy. More than anything, I just want to see you happy.”
“Don’t know about that right now, Mom. There’s a lot going on.”
“I know. But keep your heart open. That’s all I ask. And please don’t force anything on my behalf. I was just curious if there might be anyone special.”
Holden’s maddeningly, frustratingly perfect face rose up in my mind.
“Violet,” I blurted.
“My Violet? Really? She’s lovely, but—”
“Yeah, and actually, I have some news. I think I heard her car pull up. Hold on.”
I strode to the door quickly, determined to put an end to the turmoil and confusion. To set my life back on the track it’d been on since I could hold a football.
I threw open Mom’s door and nearly crashed into Violet herself. She gave a little cry of surprise.
“Shit, sorry I scared you,” I said, demanding my senses take in her feminine beauty and make it mean something. Anything.
“It’s fine,” Violet said with a nervous smile. “I can come back if—”
“No, come in. Please.”
“Hello, darling,” Mom said warmly as we joined her bedside.
“Hi, Mrs. Whitmore.”
“Nancy, please. Remember?”
“Right. Okay.”
Mom loves Violet. We can make her happy. What else matters?
I took Violet’s hand that was so small and fragile in mine. “Violet and I are going to the homecoming dance together after the game on Friday.”
“Is that so? How lovely.”
Violet gave a little laugh. “He’s the king, and there was a glitch in the matrix, so I ended up as queen. I think he’s contractually obligated.”
“Ha, no. I’m happy to,” I said. My palms were getting sweaty. I dropped her hand and quickly lunged for my backpack where I’d left it on the floor. “I gotta get to practice.” I kissed Mom on her silk scarf. “Bye, Mom.”
“Be safe, dear.”
I remembered to spare a glance for my homecoming queen. “Call you later?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Great.” I pecked her on the cheek and hurried out.
In my room, I dumped my backpack on the floor and flopped onto my bed.
“So that was awkward,” I muttered to the ceiling. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
Who else knows you’re gay? a voice whispered back.
“Fuck.”
I’d kept Holden’s question out of my thoughts for the entire sleepless weekend. But as my eyes drifted closed for the few minutes of rest I had between school and practice, it snuck in and burrowed down deep, demanding an answer.
He said it as a joke. To mess with the quarterback who was stuck in a closet with a guy. It didn’t mean anything.
Except when the words landed, they struck hard. I’d felt it. He’d seen it.
I spat another curse and tore off the bed to get ready for practice. Holden didn’t know what he was asking. There were few openly gay players in the NFL, and I wasn’t brave enough to take my place among them. Yet my entire life was geared to one thing and one thing only—going pro.
It wasn’t solid or exact, but that was the only answer I had.