5. THREE
THREE
ALEX
“So, what do you want to talk about this week?”
“My best friend is fucking my sister.”
Dr. Anika Sharma leans forward in her chair, adjusting the round frames of her glasses on her nose, and fails to hide the flicker of exasperation that passes over her face at my statement.
“We’ve been discussing your sister’s relationship for a couple of months now.
Are you still struggling with it? Or do you think there might be a possibility that you’re using it to distract from talking about things you find more uncomfortable? ”
I shift in my seat. Scratching at a patch of skin behind my ear, I let my gaze trail across to the window behind her and stare out at the swaying leaves of the trees outside. “I don’t know what you mean.”
It’s true that since starting therapy two months ago, our sessions have been dominated by conversation surrounding Brynn and Leo’s relationship.
But, in fairness, finding out your best friend has been sleeping with your little sister behind your back would come as a shock to any man.
Granted, I may not have reacted in the best way. But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?
To help me process it in a “healthier” way.
To stop me from feeling like my life has been rendered useless now that my sister has found someone else to look out for her.
Dr. Sharma raises her brows like she’s sick of my shit. “What would you say has been your overarching emotion this week?”
Exhaustion.
Boredom.
A bone-deep intuition that I’m of no use to anyone anymore.
My daylight hours were spent either at the gym or at soccer practice.
And my nights were lost inside the bodies of women I’d met that evening.
Saturday was probably the only time I’d felt anything close to happiness, while playing hide and seek with my nieces and chasing them around the kitchen island. At least they still need me around.
I settle on, “Loneliness.”
Dr. Sharma lets the silence stretch between us, waiting for me to expand. I don’t. I just shift my gaze back to her and knot my hands in my lap.
“Are you still using casual sex to distract from your feelings of isolation?”
Who said I do that? I don’t do that. I am a twenty-nine-year-old virile athlete, in the prime of his life, who needs an outlet for all his raging testosterone. Nothing deeper than that.
Her eyes soften in the gentle glow of the lamplight. “Do you think that’s a fair observation?”
My eyes find the trees beyond the window. “I don’t know.”
“Can I tell you what I think?”
I mean, she’ll tell me anyway. No point in asking my permission first. In the few months of sessions we’ve had since I started, she’s never shied away from letting me know the cold hard truth. Whether I accept it as truth is a different thing, however.
“Sure.” I shrug.
“I think you’re struggling so much with Leo and Brynn’s relationship because it feels like a loss.
And I think it’s okay, and very normal, for you to process it that way.
I think you’re worried that their relationship affects the individual bonds you share with them, that it might weaken them somehow. ”
Fuck me, she’s right on the money.
“You’ve spent the majority of your life being your sister’s protector, and now that Leo has stepped into that role, you’re grappling with knowing where you fit into the picture.
And you’re leaning on casual sex now more than ever to fill that void because, ultimately, you crave companionship.
You need to be needed, but at the same time, you’re terrified of commitment as a result of your parents’ untimely death. ”
I release a sticky laugh in a bid to relieve the weight she’s just dropped on my chest. “Damn, Doc, don’t pull your punches for my benefit.”
Her smile is both sad and polite. An unsettling combination of ingredients that manages to call me pathetic and a shitty comedian all at once. So, I’m grateful when she changes the subject.
“How are you coping with the changes in the team since the new investors came on board?”
I scowl, thinking about the recent deal.
The board wants us to present a more wholesome side of ourselves to appease the new investor, a vehicle manufacturer who specializes in family cars: Purview Automotive or something. That means no getting photographed in compromising positions, no excessive drinking, no fucking fun.
It’s all bullshit.
We’re to be the perfect picture of the American Dream for the sole purpose of injecting more money into the wallets of the team’s owners.
Hypocritical of me to say, sure, since I earn more money than anyone ever should for kicking a ball around a field, but at least I don’t line my own pockets at the expense of somebody else.
I fake a smile. “It is what it is.”
“Have you considered using it as an opportunity to speak about your experiences?”
All my life, I’ve kept it close to my chest that Brynn and I were adopted after we ended up in a children’s home for a couple years following our parents’ death.
I’m not ashamed of it or anything. I just hate the way people look at me like I’m some hopeless, mangled stray in a kill shelter when they find out.
Leo knows, but only because my sister told him.
“Why would I?”
“Well, they’re a family company, yes? It could inspire a conversation about your own.”
“I have absolutely no desire to do that.”
Dr. Sharma leans back in her seat, casting a fleeting glance to the clock on the wall. “You never know, you might find it”—she pauses and rubs her chin—“freeing.”
And what if someone leaks the information, subjecting me to a media frenzy of “journalists” digging up all the sordid details of my parents’ death? No, thank you. That wouldn’t be freeing at all.
“I doubt it.” I rise from my chair. There’s still twenty minutes left of the session, but I’ve reached my limit today.
She doesn’t stop me, shrugging as she crosses her legs and watches me leave. “Something to think about.”
“Will do, Doc.” I give her a salute and close the door behind me.
I’m making eye contact with a taxidermied bison when my teammate passes me a beer and leans his back against the bar.
I hold my bottle out to him. “Cheers to the three-drink limit, courtesy of our new friends at Purview.”
Roman rolls his eyes, his jaw tight with resentment at the situation, but he clinks his drink against mine anyway.
Behind him, I spot Leo with his arm wrapped around my sister’s waist as he struggles to flag down the bartender.
He lifts her onto a zebra-print stool and stands between her legs, a credit card clipped between two fingers.
They’re so sickening in their smittenness that it makes me want to barf into Roman’s lap.
“They’re disgusting, aren’t they?” Roman grumbles over the drunken screeching of the karaoke happening on the stage behind us. My lips twitch as I watch a girl dressed in cow print murder Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now.”
My eyes flick back to Leo and Brynn, just as he grabs her chin and sticks his tongue in her mouth.
Oh, Jesus, I didn’t need to see THAT.
“Nauseating.” I nod.
Leo catches us watching as they separate, shooting us the middle finger before wincing in my direction like I'm a landmine about to go off, which I can understand, considering that the drama between us last season lost the team the championship.
He doesn't need to worry, though. I’m in therapy now.
Besides, we're still the closest thing you can get to brothers without being grown in the same womb, and it’s hard to be mad at the dude who's given your little sister everything she could ever want in life, including two adopted daughters and a fuck-off massive diamond ring—even if he does continue to feel her up within my field of vision.
Theo, a defender, sidles up beside Roman, sipping a muted-pink cocktail through a straw. It’s garnished with a slice of lime and a glazed cherry, which he fishes out with two fingers and pops into his mouth. “This is good,” he says, “you should try it.”
“What is it?”
“Unicorn jizz.”
“Huh?”
Theo shrugs. “That’s what it says on the menu. I thought it was weird too, but the girl behind the bar said I should get it, and she was nice, so I did.”
“And now you’re just…drinking unicorn jizz?” Roman drawls, frowning at the effervescing fluid.
Theo looks between us like he doesn’t understand what the big deal is. “Yep. I’ll probably get another.”
You know what, I respect it.
Clapping him on the back, I assess the bar once more. Leo and Brynn have finally separated and are now approaching, fighting through the crush of bodies waiting their turn at the bar. They both drink from glasses full of the same color liquid as Theo’s.
Unicorn jizz must be a real hit around here.
“Think we’ve got a shot of winning this season?” Theo asks, inspecting his drained glass before licking sugar off the rim. “I feel like the new investors are gonna fuck with my game.”
“How come?” Brynn asks, tone laced with concern. She’s had a soft spot for Theo since the first time they met.
Theo’s shoulders shift. “The pressure.”
“So long as no one fucks another player’s sister this year, we’ll be fine.” Roman stares Leo dead in the eyes as he says it, the tiny curve of his lips the only indication that he’s messing with him. Shit stirrer that he is.
Leo deadpans. “What about your mom?”
“Yeah, Ro. What about your mom?” I’m mostly joking, but truth be told, Roman’s mom is a total knockout.
He snatches a napkin off the bar and whips me with it. “Jackass.”
I hold my hands up. “Just saying what we’re all thinking, man.”
“Not true.” Theo looks up, his eyes too sweet and doe-eyed to belong to one of the best defenders the MLS has ever seen. “Mrs. Murphy is a lovely woman, and I respect her too much to think about her that way.” He pauses. “She is hot, though.”
Roman frowns and takes a deep gulp of his beer. “Brilliant.”
I nudge him on the shoulder, “Relax, man. We all know she’s out of our leagues anyway.”