Chapter 11 #2
“Fuck that,” I say and burst out laughing. “But seriously, no. There’s no one. I thought there might be someone, but I was wrong. Now I'm going to focus on being the best player the world has ever seen. Love, if it ever comes, can wait until I retire.”
She gives me a look that says more than words ever could, and I appreciate her for that.
We finish the rest of our breakfast and pack up the car for our long drive up north.
I mention to Trish that we have to stop off at my parents’ house on the way back and give them the good…
or the bad news. Trish tries to remind me—numerous times—that they already want me; all I have to do is pass my fitness test. Oh yeah, and not have a panic attack and black out.
Yeah, that’s all. My mind wanders to AJ.
AJ and his diving.
AJ and his perfect face.
AJ.
We pull up outside my parents’ house, and I see the looks Trish is giving the neighborhood.
“Look, I know it’s not much, but this is where I call home. This is the place that made me.” There’s a defensive edge to my tone.
“I’m not judging, Kyle. This reminds me of where I grew up, that’s all.”
“You’re a council estate escapee, too?” I look around at the too small houses, the swatch of green where I learnt to play football.
The graffiti on the walls. The abandoned shopping trolleys.
To people who don’t understand the council estate life, this would seem embarrassing, but to people like Trish and I, it’s home.
The government might not do an awful lot for people like us, but at least they provide a roof over our heads, in a relatively good neighborhood.
I say good because it’s been just over a month since the last break-in.
“Sure am. But I will never forget my roots. I go home to see my parents as often as I can. It’s the right thing to do.”
My heart warms at that.
“Listen, I know I pre-warned you about my parents, but it bears repeating. They’re good people. Well, my mum is pure. My dad is a homophobic wanker, but okay. He doesn’t know I’m gay. Neither of them do. So, I’d like to keep it that way.”
Trish nods, and we head out into the fine northern air.
My hands brush the brown door, and it opens in an instant. All at once, I’m dragged into a hug by Mum.
“Herb! Kyle’s home!” Her eyes dart to Trish, and for a moment, I think I see confusion on her face, but then a huge smile forms there instead. “And he’s brought a lady friend too!” My heart sinks.
We enter my childhood home. Dad is still in his usual spot, as morbid as it sounds, I’m sure he’s going to die in that chair.
Mum doesn’t take her eyes off Trish, which makes me feel shitty. We take a seat on the floral sofa that’s been aged by the sun beaming in through the window over the years.
“So, what do we owe the pleasure of a visit from our favorite child?”
“I’m your only child, Mum.”
“And that’s why yer our favorite!” Dad pipes in.
“Wait, is this a cup of tea chat?” Mum's eyes dart to Trish.
“Um, yes, but not for the reason you might think.”
“Why do yer always insist on talking in riddles, Kyle?” Dad says, losing interest and going back to the TV and his afternoon game shows.
Trish and I follow Mum into the kitchen, there’s a candle that smells like fresh linen burning on the side. Mum shuffles over to put the kettle on, her slipper clad feet making soft sounds on the hardwood floor.
“So, Mum, before you get the wrong idea, Trish and I aren’t dating.” I see her shoulders sag slightly, and any hopes of me coming out to her one day slump too.
The room is silent—save for Mum making the teas—and then we head into the living room.
“Herb, Kyle ’as some news for us, and it’s not that he and this lovely Trish girl are dating.”
“Aye, knew it. She’s far too pretty for ’im.”
“Herbert. That is your son yer talkin’ about.” Mum gives him a withering look.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat, “You may have heard that a certain team has been interested in me.”
“Ain’t got a clue, lad. Internet’s been out for a few days. They say it’s gonna be fixed by Thursdee.”
“Oh, okay. And you haven’t read anything in the papers?
” Once again, I’m surprised by how closed off my parents are, despite living on a thriving and well-connected communal housing estate.
My mum is the happy-go-lucky one of the pair, though, and people are more likely to talk to her.
I apparently take after my dad, with the short temper and being a grump.
I’ve seen people literally cross the street to avoid us.
It used to hurt my feelings—now I don’t give a toss.
My focus is on my family and providing for them—not what people think of me; at least to some degree.
If people found out I was gay. That’s the end of everything.
My career, providing for my family. My dream.
“Delivery boy is sick. ’As been for a few days.”
“Oh, right. And they’re not related?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“The internet and the delivery boy? Don’t be daft, son.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t actually know what I mean. Anyway, so, my news. I’ve just had a medical at…” I pause for dramatic effect.
“Get on with it, lad,” my dad says, with growing impatience.
“With Union.”
The words hang in the air.
“And I passed.”
There’s more silence.
“I’ve signed a contract with them. They want me to be their star striker next season.”
The silence is almost deafening until Dad bursts out with a cackle, jumps out of his chair and…and hugs me. He spins me around, and I can see tears in his eyes. My dad, crying. My dad, proud of me? Tears begin to prick my eyes too. Dad finally lets me go and now Mum is hugging me.
This is football. This is why I’ve been so determined to make the most of my “gift.” For moments like this. Why I’ve put in all of the graft, and I can see it paying off now. I know I’ve got to work even harder to keep this though.
“My son, t’ Union player. I always dreamed this day would come.”
“Me too, Dad, me too,” I’ve made my dad proud of me. Finally.