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And then I remember Grace was there, beside me, outside in the cool night air, asking what was going on, insisting that things were most definitely not all right, that the normal Catya would’ve just politely declined and moved on and that I needed to tell her what the hell was up.
This was the part that sticks in my brain as clear as day, like the alcohol knew this memory would be too powerful to touch.
Because I said, “Simon! It’s Simon.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
I slurred my words in replying, “I fucked him.”
There was a long, long pause — not a gap in my memory, but a real moment of complete silence. Or at least, the world seemed to go silent. I was sure the music back in the house didn’t stop playing, and the boys didn’t stop shouting, but for all intents and purposes, a cloak of muteness had been thrown over the proceedings.
“You did what?” Grace whispered, words that I caught in spite of how softly they were spoken.
“I fucked him,” I reiterated, swallowing to keep the bile that was rising in my throat, struggling to keep my eyelids open. “I fucked Simon and I think I might also be in love with him and I don’t want Robert or some other guy to touch me because I belong to Simon now and he belongs to me, and we’re going to be together somehow, just you watch.”
“Holy shit,” she replied. I wondered to myself if it was the first time she’d ever been really, truly stunned. She seemed unable to comprehend the situation.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I said, then burped impolitely.
“I won’t,” she murmured.
“Swear it.”
Grace’s eyes looked distant as she replied, “I swear.”
Chapter 20
Simon
On Saturday morning, I was awoken by the sound of my telephone blaring, an ear-piercing siren that just wouldn’t stop. I smashed my hand down on the side table, fumbling the phone between my fingers, and pressed the speaker button.
“What?” I grumbled. “Who’s calling?”
“Simon? It’s David.”
Well, now I was up. “David like—”
“Like your boss, yeah,” he said with some amusement. “I’d like you to come in this afternoon, before your evening practice with the team. Okay?”
I was more than up. I was practically vibrating with adrenaline and fear. This couldn’t be good. How could it be a coincidence that I had sex with Catya yesterday, and today, I was receiving a call from my boss to see him on short notice? Oh God. Coincidences like that don’t happen, not in real life. If he was going to fire me, which he most certainly was, I wanted to get it out of the way sooner rather than later.
“Can you see me in half an hour?” I asked, hoping to move up my guillotine appointment.
He sounded surprised, but said, “Sure thing. My office. See you then.”
I threw on clothes, swiped a toothbrush across my teeth, and was out my building before you could say “employment terminated.” I’d asked for a half hour window because that was precisely how long it would take me to get from my apartment to his office without running. Like I said, I wasn’t one to let bad news linger.
Before long, I was knocking on his door and saying a prayer to some god, any god, all of them. I didn’t regret making love to Catya, but it would still hurt like hell to lose this position, the thing I’d worked for since childhood.
Ah well. I’d made my bed. Or, rather, I’d made my pile of leaves.
“Come in,” he called out, his voice muffled through the wood.
I took a deep breath. Confidence, I instructed myself. This will suck, but be a man about it.
With that I turned the knob and entered his room. David was seated behind a small desk that was too petite for the gaping maw of a room that it sat in. See, at ULA, Director of Athletics was a coveted position — as opposed to, for instance, phys. ed. directors in secondary school, who are roundly treated like shit. David was given the office of a king, and a salary to match.
“Hey there, Simon,” he said, his tone too cheery for what I was sure was about to come. “Take a seat.” He gestured to a small, rickety chair that was opposite his own.
Hesitant, I walked across the carpet and slid into the confines of the chair.
“Hi, David,” I began. “Listen, I know why you called me in and—”
“Oh, you do? Great. So what time do you think we should leave?”
Wait, what? Aloud, I said, “What do you mean?”
“For the travel trip,” he explained. “What time do you think we should leave for the first rounds of the tournament?”
I fell silent, at a loss for words. So he hadn’t called me in about my relations with Catya? A deep sigh of relief escaped my mouth.
