That was me. Dependable. Helpful. Thoughtful.
Which was fine. Really. At least when it came to my family. What about when you weren’t family? And you were still putting in more effort than the rest of the people? Not even for no reward but for them to not even accept you for who you were?
If you were to do that, you would probably be a sucker.
“Talk over,” I told Zach. “Go back to coach and tell him you did your best.”
“He’ll know that’s a lie since I don’t fail.” His offense would normally be funny, but I didn’t feel like laughing.
“Whatever. I’m not worried about it.” I turned towards my desk. “Say whatever last word you wanna say and then you can go, unless you wanna stay and do math homework with me.”
I gathered up my book and notebook, not wanting to take back the offer to do this together because I would definitely get it right if Zach was working with me, but I had to get into my backpack and get the folder for the class to get the worksheet.
Which meant Zach would see my regular glossy blue folders had been replaced with insanely girly Lisa Frank ones. No guesses required to figure out who did that because it was obviously Ryan.
Just in case I thought one of our friends had played a joke on me, my boyfriend wrote a little note saying,look what I did, Luke! These have more flair. Flair!You’re pretty when you blush. He also signed his name, yet it wasn’t like there was anyone else who would leave me that message.
People saw me get the folders out!
My boyfriend was real lucky I liked him alive. Dating a ghost would be weird.
Zach kept not talking. He wasn’t as chatty as said alive boyfriend, but he never passed up an opportunity to tell people what he thought, especially when he thought they were wrong. I turned back towards him after a moment.
He was looking at me with a weird expression. Annoyance and expectance and I don’t know. “That’s really all?” he questioned impatiently. “You’re just done?”
“Yeah, what?” Was I supposed to, like, apologize for having a boyfriend, beg for their forgiveness? Yet Zach was still looking at me strange. “You think they’re in the right?” I wondered.
“Didn’t say that,” he replied shortly.
Cool, because that wouldn’t make any sense at all, but he kept giving me that almost disappointed look. Except Zach didn’t get disappointed in me. Huge lie. He didn’t get disappointed in me formoralreasons. See, I couldn’t even lie in my head.
“Good, so we’re done?” I prompted when he kept being weird.
“Guess so,” he told me shortly and then didn’t even stay to do homework.
Maybe life couldn’t be perfect. But I thought it would be easier. Smoother sailing from here on out. And of all the ways for me to find out I was wrong, it had to be the team showing me.
I figured myself out, came to terms with my sexuality. Seemed like everything at the time. One massive hurdle and when I overcame it, I thought that was it. Only I got to the top and saw that there were still more mountains to climb. Being okay with myself was only one part of it because there was still everyone else.
I was a good pitcher, a good leader and I liked that. Being one of the best. Standing out. In a good way. But now I stood out anyway. Maybe I should just keep my head down. If I was going to get problems anyway, I didn’t need to ask for more.
If there was no more smooth sailing, then at least I could get out of the water.
* * *
Ryan
I was in dad’s room on a Friday night. I had an important mission before my next grand adventure. I walked in, ready to get in and out. To dart into the night before any parental concern could interfere with my plans, but Dad wasn’t in here and the hideous lamp was.
I ended up just standing in the doorway and staring at it.
Maybe being in here and seeing the hideous lamp on the nightstand next to the bed was why I started thinking about Mom. Maybe it was meeting Joanne. The lampshade was leopard print and had fuzzy pink fringe lining the bottom of the shade. It was hideous.
The aesthetic that best described Dad’s room was “crap no one has thrown out yet.” It was orderly and outdated and he didn’t care. He worked on a farm, had been farm adjacent all his life, a blue-collar Midwest guy that liked simple and rustic.
The hideous lamp was different.
Mom liked simple too, but she also thought life wasn’t an assembly line. Whether decorating or dressing, there should always be that one piece ofyou. A signature, a touch of whimsy. That was the lamp. And the garden gnome outside somewhere that was flat on its back, mini beer cans surrounding it. The rhinestone pin of a crown she wore with professional clothes to remind herself and everyone else she was royalty. The painting of a flamingo that Dad hated in the living room. Mom had liked bright stuff, silly stuff.
