Chapter 25
AJ
“You know this is going to kill your career? How could you be so stupid?”
My dad has been ranting at me for the past forty-nine minutes. Says he got emailed some information about me and someone else in a compromising position. Then he found it all on social media moments later. I dread to think what he saw. What he read.
He’s pacing the kitchen. I’ve lost count of how many laps he’s done around the island. I’m standing by the sink, watching him.
When he first told me, the first thing that came to mind was relief. A weight off my shoulders. But then I worried about Kyle. He never wanted to come out, and now he’s been dragged out of the closet and thrown to the wolves.
“I was going to come out at the end of the season anyway. What’s the big deal?”
“Big deal? Sponsorships? Endorsements? Your playing career? I’ve told you before, I don’t want to see my son as a burning effigy. You know damn well what this country and the media are like.”
I let out a sigh. We have this debate all the time. I get him, I understand him. But he does not hear or understand me.
“They had no right to out me or Kyle. This person, who took the photo, doesn't give a shit how it’s going to impact him. They don’t care how scared he is.
Me? I can handle it. I’m ready. I will not let this person or the media or any faceless troll shit on my rainbow.
Kyle is in that photo. I love him, Dad. I will do anything to protect him. ”
I wipe a stray tear from my eyes. Dad has come closer, and he wraps an arm around me.
“I didn’t know you were in love, son. Tell me, is he worth it?
Is he worth turning your whole world upside down?
I guess what I’m trying to say is, do you feel forever about him?
Because if so, then I’ll be by your side. And his.”
My dad hugs me, and I mean full-on bear hugs me.
He hasn’t done this since I was little. I fall into the hug because I’ve missed this.
I hadn’t realized it was missing until I was enveloped in it.
The tears fall freely from both of us. I have no idea how long we are like this, but by the time we break, our eyes are red with tears, and our cheeks soaked with their tracks.
The next day I’m called back into training, and I am extra vigilant. No one has said a word to me, but I’m also keeping my distance, especially from Rockwell.
“AJ, my office, now.”
Well, fuck. Gaffer Elmstrom sounds pissed. This is it. He’s going to tear up my contract. Send me to some League Two side where I’ll rot, and that’ll be it. My dreams are over. Crushed. All because I dared to love someone of the same sex.
The gaffer’s office feels smaller than normal. The usual welcoming feeling is gone. I try to stay positive. Try to say it’s all in my head, but the face that is staring back at me is less than friendly. In fact, he looks pissed, too.
He slides me the now-familiar picture of Kyle and me, staring intimately at each other.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asks. Before I can decide if it’s a rhetorical question or not, he says, “Fighting with fellow international teammates? I know he plays for the rival club, but I can’t have my players drunk and fighting.
Your wages will be docked and you will be doing door to door community service for the next week.
You’ll also be suspended for two games.”
My head is spinning. My heart is relieved.
I don’t want to say anything. This is the best possible outcome for now.
If the gaffer thinks this is a picture of us fighting, maybe everyone else does too.
He gestures for me to leave. I nod my head to him and exit, clawing my phone out of my pocket as fast as I can.
Kyle picks up on the first ring. “Are you okay?” he asks, sounding panicked.
“Yeah, fine, more than fine. Where are you?”
“I’ve been called into the manager's office, heading there now. No prizes for guessing what it’s about.”
“Well, if it’s anything like the meeting I just had, I think you’ll be okay.”
Kyle scoffs, and I can practically hear him roll his eyes. “Stop looking on the bright side all the time. I get it, you want to come out and show the world how gay we are for each other, but this is my career. My dreams are about to go up in smoke.”
“Just, listen. Okay? Go in there, take the punishment, and call me when you’re out…out of the office, I mean.”
He grunts something and hangs up.
I head out of the training lodge and jump into my car. When you’re suspended, you can’t train with the team. With no destination in mind, and not wanting to be in my house alone, I head home because, all of a sudden, I want my mum.
“My baby!” Mum says, embracing me at the front door. She’s a vision in an elegant pashmina and dark purple hair. She is absolutely where I get my fashion sense from. Bold and eccentric. She holds me at arm’s length, and then hits me in the arm.
“OW!”
“Fighting? Did I really bring you up to be a fighter? Now get inside before you’re paparazzied again. Goodness me, child.”
I do as she says, because a) she’s my mum and b) she’s bloody terrifying when she’s like this.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, hoping he isn’t around. I can’t deal with his energy right now. On a side note, she thinks I was fighting with Kyle too, which means Dad hasn’t spoken to her yet. Okay, great. This could be the best or the worst thing.
“He’s out, probably trying to fix your mess, young man. You’re not too old to be grounded, you know?”
“Mum, I don’t even live here,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Oh, yes, before you were a fighter, you abandoned your poor mother.”
I laugh, because what else can I do?
“Kitchen. Now. Kettle is on. We need a proper catch up.”
This can’t be good. But yet, my heart feels warmer. Mum will fix this. She always does.
I make my way to the marble kitchen island and take a seat on one of the stools. Mum places a cup of tea next to me, and says, “Okay, out with it then.”
I blink at her, suddenly forgetting all the words I know.
“Well, come on love. I haven’t got all day.”
I adjust myself on the stool and clear my throat.
“I wasn’t fighting.”
“Sure bloody looked like it, son.”
“I would never harm him. Kyle. You remember him, right? We grew up together, he stayed over most weekends.”
“Of course, I remember him, you dozy fool.”
Ahh, a mother’s love.
“Okay, good. You have to believe me when I say we weren’t fighting.
What I’m about to tell you, you might think is much worse, and I will understand if you want nothing more to do with me.
” I swallow hard and will myself on. “I was kissing him. Or about to, anyway, before we heard the sound of a camera. We were drunk and stupid, I know. But I love him, Mum. And I will do anything for him.”
Mum is silent. That’s not good. It’s never good when Mum is silent. She walks over to me, and I brace myself for another dig in the arm, but she hugs me.
“I’m so glad you're a lover and not a fighter!”
“Mum!” I say as I struggle to get out of her embrace, yet internally my heart is bouncing up and down with joy.
I want to cling to her. I want to hold her tight, like I used to when I was a kid.
But if I do that, I will truly know how alone I’ve been these past few years and, well…
can’t handle that. So I break free and smile at her.
She kisses the top of my head before releasing me.
I look at her, and then her face turns stern. “But you cannot be a footballer and gay. Not in this world. It is too dangerous for you.”
“Mum, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out. I’m just thankful you took it better than Dad.”
“You told your father before me?”
“No!” I sputter. “Well, yes, but only because he saw the picture first.”
“Hrm. I guess that serves me right for shopping for the family dinner this weekend.”
“Mum, you’ve known I was gay since forever, though,” I say, letting out a small laugh in spite of the situation, untangling the confusion.
“Yes, I know that dear, but I didn’t know you were in love. And with another footballer. Our Kyle. How brave of you both.”
She hugs me again, and I don’t fight it this time.
“You must stay for dinner. I won’t hear no for an answer—oh, I know,” she says, a wild look in her eye. I can already see where this is going, the cogs literally turning in her head. “Invite Kyle too.”
Dad walks through the door, saving my ass.
He slams a dozen or so different newspapers down on the counter top.
Or not.
“‘Fighting Lads on Tour,’” he says, pointing his finger at the headline, then slams it on the floor.
“‘Young Lions Try to Kill Each Other.’” He does the same action again.
Over and over with each headline—each one more ludicrous than the previous.
Physical media seems to be leaning into the fighting, and some of the rage-bait ones are trying to imply something more intimate.
Kyle and I are getting pelted from both sides, and now my dad is—well, he’s being Dad.
I don’t want to look at my mum, I just hope she has my back.
And while I’m not looking at her, I can pretend she does.
“Dad, you and I both know what really happened.”
“But,” he says, and now his eyes light up, “This is even better. You can stay hidden away, lean into the bad boy persona.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“You know, your father has a point, son.” And there it is, the sound of my heart being pierced.
My family is drawing the bow; my life is the target.
Bullseye. I feel rage build up inside of me.
Words wanting to come out and for once, I let them.
I pace around the kitchen table and look my mum in the eye.
“You too, Mum?”
I look at them both now, disgusted. “You would rather I hide away, and pretend to be a violent thug, than the person who I really am, who doesn’t hurt anyone? I didn’t think that was how you raised me.”
Before they can say anything I storm off outside, wiping tears from my face.
A wet nose lands on my hand, initially starling me. I open my bleary eyes, and there he is, our family Dalmatian dog, Dereck. I scratch him behind his ear, and he leans into it, panting and wagging his tail.
“You don’t want me to hide away, do you boy?
” I plant a kiss on his head and, in turn, he licks practically my whole face.
I wipe it away with my sleeve. Once he settles down, he sits next to me, slowly wagging his tail back and forth.
I look up at the stars and wonder if Kyle is looking up at them too.
I wonder how he is feeling. I want to know he’s okay.
It’s been a few hours since he had his scheduled meeting with his manager.
I pull out my phone, take a picture of the stars, and it actually turns out okay.
I then send Kyle the picture with the caption: “Which one is you?” and send it before backing out and dying from the cringe.
I then open my notes up and come up with an action plan. There’s only one sentence, but it’s a good one:
Take control of the story and make history.