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“He said he’s watched me cause carnage in the lives of every girl I’ve been with over the past three years. I use them, steal their innocence and break their hearts, according to him. To tell you the truth, I never thought the guy was that fucking observant. Apparently, he knew about all the one night stands—which is all I’ve ever had. He must have had scouts planted all over campus, watching and reporting back.”
I finish my beer, and realize I’m in the process of becoming seriously fucked up.
Good.
Just what the doctor ordered.
I haven’t slept in a long time. I’ve spent the week planning a funeral, working out at night like a maniac in Bo’s home gym because it’s the only thing that takes the edge off, and packing up three lifetimes’ worth of memorabilia into thirty or so boxes so I can get rid of the rest.
“What if he’s right?”
“He’s not right, Elias. It’s just bullshit he would have said in the heat of the moment. So what if you played the field for a while? You just hadn’t met the right person yet. You had no reason to be faithful before. Now you do. Don’t take that shit to heart.”
I’m trying not to, but Coach’s words cut deep. Unfortunately, I respect him. If Zara and I are going to have any kind of a future at all, it would be nice if her father didn’t consider me the lowest form of pond scum in the history of humanity.
This is where Bo and I are different. For reasons that go back to some promise he made to his own mother on her death bed, he saved himself for the real thing. So, when he found it, he wasn’t carrying all the baggage I’m carrying.
“I’m meeting with the real estate agent before the funeral tomorrow,” I tell him.
“Are you really sure you want to put the house on the market so soon?”
“They’re both gone now. There’s no point hanging on to it. I need a clean break. I need to figure out why I played the game of football to begin with and if I even want to keep playing it.”
“You do want to keep playing it,” Bo insists. “You’re too good to quit, just because of a misunderstanding between you and and the love of your life’s bull-headed father. Trust me, he’ll come around. He needs you. He just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet. But he’ll be realizing it pretty fucking quick as he stares up at that scoreboard.”
Is she there? Is she staring up at the scoreboard, wearing my jersey when I’m not even there? What do I have to offer her now?
“I’m going to fly back there tomorrow after the funeral and take her. I don’t care what they say.” I sound drunk. “We’re going to sail the world together. Fuck football.”
The room is spinning so I lay back on one of the couches for a minute, to give it a chance to even out.
I fucking miss her. “She’s the best—and worst—kind of addition, you know what I mean? Dangerous and so fucking sweet she’s impossible to get enough of.”
“I get it, man.”
So this is what it feels like to lose everything.
I’m so fucking tired.
“That’s because you haven’t slept in a week, bro,” Bo says, and he’s sort of gentle about it. He tosses a blanket over me and I can hear him outside talking to someone on his phone before I get pulled into a deep and dreamless oblivion.
23
I’m in my studio, trying to paint my emotions onto the canvas in front of me. So far, it’s entirely black.
This used to work. It used to help. But tonight, all I can feel is a manic kind of worry and a double-edged heartbreak.
I’ve left a few more messages for Elias but so far he hasn’t answered or called me back. I know he’s dealing with a lot, so now I’m just trying to give him some space. He knows how to get in touch when he’s ready to. But it’s hard to wait.
What if he doesn’t want you anymore? What if he’s told your dad that he’s choosing football? It’s the logical thing to do. He’s worked too hard and too long to give up on it, just for you. He barely even knows you.
Unfortunately my subconscious makes a good point. Of course he should choose football. He’s too good and too valuable to throw it all away just because we happen to have shared a moment.
An unbearably hot, beautiful, life-changing moment.
But still, maybe it isn’t enough for him to really know.
Don’t ever doubt me. You’re the one, Z.
