Chapter Forty-Two East Rutherford
Noah Reyes had been in the locker room for forty minutes before Coach Nelson came in. It was the first playoff game, and he had to separate the mess of his outing with the fact that he needed to win this game against New York.
He was dressed, pads, jersey, helmet on the bench beside him.
The locker room was mostly empty. He was looking at the carpet between his cleats and not thinking about anything.
Not about the photographs on the top of everyone's mind.
Coach Nelson had taught him this discipline.
Do not think about the ruin of your life until after the game.
Coach came in.
He went quiet at first. He sat down on the bench next to Noah and looked at the same piece of carpet Noah was looking at.
Coach Nelson was sixty-four and had been a famous tight end in the eighties. He was a calming force in Noah’s life and he felt at ease in his presence.
“Twenty minutes,” the coach said.
“I know.”
“Statement went out at seven.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t need to read it. We support you. The entire organization does, not just your teammates.”
Coach turned his head.
“We had to say something, Noah.”
“It’s fine. It’s what we agreed on.”
Then Coach said quietly, “You’re shaking.”
Noah looked down at his hands, they were shaking.
Noah said, “I’ve been not thinking about it since the photographs went up. I can’t.”
“I know.”
Noah sat forward. His forearms went back to his knees. He looked past Coach. He looked at the carpet. He said, in a voice Coach had not heard him use before, “He doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what?” Coach asked.
Noah held his hands together, trying to stop the shaking.
“That I love him.”
Coach closed his eyes briefly as he took a moment.
“Noah. Look at me.”
Coach was leaning forward, elbows on his own knees now, his face level with Noah’s.
“He knows, son. I have watched you for years. I have watched you this season. I know what a guy looks like when he has stopped being alone in his own head. You stopped being alone in your own head in September. Hell, if falling in love with our rival quarterback is good for your game, fuck away.”
Noah laughed as his eyes filled with tears. It hit him harder coming from a hyper-masculine former star tight end now his coach.
Coach said, “You got twenty minutes. You know we all love you, Noah, right?”
“I know.”
“You want to crack, you crack now. You want to crack after, that needs to be after we win it ALL.”
Noah breathed out. He breathed out for a long time as the shaking subsided.
He opened his eyes filled with tears.
He said flatly, “I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m good, Coach.”
Coach Nelson nodded once.
They embraced, “Go win this fucking football game, the homophobic trolls can't beat you out on that fucking field.”
Noah stood up too.
He put his helmet on Los Angeles.
***
Tank sat next to Piper on the couch in silence as the game started. They played it on mute because the commentators continued what was on everyone's mind, the outing of Piper and Noah.
Vivienne went in and out of the living room taking calls.
The game was in cold mid-December weather, defensive, grinding, no rhythm, three-and-outs, punts, a missed field goal, a blocked field goal, a fumble recovered, a fumble lost.
New York eventually got a field goal at the end of the 2nd quarter. Score: New York 3, Seattle 0.
Seattle tied it in the 3rd quarter with a field goal of their own. Score New York 3, Seattle 3.
The seventh throw of the fourth quarter was the one that mattered. Third-and-eight with 2:14 left. Noah stepped up in the pocket, found his target, and dropped it into Darius’s hands before the safety got there for forty-seven yards. The kick was good through the uprights.
Score: Seattle 6, New York 3.
New York got the ball back with twenty-eight seconds and no timeouts. Seattle’s defense was on fire, and forced another three and out and that ended the game.
Tank, screamed, “6 fucking 3. Why am I rooting for these Seattle assholes? Look what you've done to me, Piper!”
Piper kept staring at the screen, “I wish I could call him and tell him how proud I am.”
The broadcast stayed on Noah after the final whistle.
He didn’t take his helmet off. He walked toward the tunnel without going to midfield for the handshake line. It wasn’t like him.
He didn’t stop for the sideline reporter, which was also not like him. He went into the tunnel, and the cameras lost him.
Three minutes later, the lower-third graphics on the screen flashed: REPORT: Noah Reyes declined post-game press availability. Reyes left the facility at 4:18 ET.
“He’s going somewhere.” Tank turned to Piper.
Piper picked up his phone.
He didn’t text Noah.
He did not look at his phone. He looked at the TV with the sound off and watched the commentators mouth words at each other.
He closed his eyes. He opened them.
“I’m going upstairs with this bottle of Chardonnay.”
***
Piper didn’t leave his bedroom for hours.
He was lying on top of the comforter in his clothes from the day before. The lights were off. The blinds were drawn. He was looking at the ceiling.
At nine o’clock, Tank came up the stairs.
Piper heard him on each step. Tank did not come up the stairs quietly.
Tank stopped at the bedroom door.
“You up?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Tank came in. He walked around to the side of the bed and sat on the edge of it, not touching Piper, not facing him, just sitting there with his back to the headboard and his feet on the floor. He was holding two beers. He set one of them on the nightstand. He opened his own.
Then he said, “You want to hear something?”
“Not really.”
“I’m going to tell you, anyway.”
“Okay.”
Tank took a long drink of his beer.
“My brother Jamal.”
Piper turned his head.
“Yeah?”
“You met him in Atlanta.”
“Yeah.”
“He lives with me now.”
Piper said nothing.
Tank said, “He moved in a few days ago. Drove out from Atlanta in a Honda. The week between him telling the family he was gay and them telling him he could not be that and live in the house. Nineteen years old. Best brother ever. I wasn’t going to tell you any of this, but I’m telling you now because you need to hear this. ”
Piper paused.
“You were wondering,” Tank said.
“I was wondering.”
“I could tell you were wondering.”
“Yeah.”
Tank took another drink.
“My mother called me twice when Jamal drove out. The first call was to tell me it was going to be on my head. The second call, two days later, was to say she had been wrong and wanted me to bring him to Christmas. He is not ready for any of that, so we are doing Christmas in L.A. He may not be ready next year either. I watched what that did to him, how alone he felt. I wasn’t going to let it happen to my other brother. ”
Piper was still on his back, looking at the ceiling. Tank drank as Piper sat up and grabbed his beer and lifted the bottle. “To Jamal.” They clinked bottles. Tank leaned over and embraced Piper.
“I got you.”
“I love you, dude,” Piper replied.
“Love you too, brother.” Tank wiped away a tear.
“Why the fuck are you crying, Edgar?” Piper laughed.
“Fuck off, Piper.”
“Well I guess you can’t escape the fucking gays now, can you?” Piper laughed, punching Tank in his arm.