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I want her to win, so she can say she won and to have bragging rights. On the other hand, I want that spare key. Not because I necessarily need it. If I knock and she’s home, she’ll open the door. Or if it’s unlocked, I can just walk in. But the action behind her giving me the key is huge. That much I understand. Or maybe I’m overthinking this and she’s trying to dupe me by getting the better prize. I don’t know.
We divide up, joining separate teams of a bunch of teenagers, and soon it begins. My brothers and I used to play a lot when we were younger, so I’m pretty damn good, if I say so myself. I help out my team as much as possible, but Olivia is my ultimate target.
“Ha!” I hear seconds before I lose. When I turn around, Olivia is standing there with a victorious smile from her success.
“Shooting me in the back is wrong,” I try, but I can’t lose my smile at seeing how happy she is.
“That wasn’t one of your rules,” she sings. Even if it was, it wouldn’t have mattered. One of these days, it’ll make it through my thick skull that Olivia doesn’t play by the rules.
I love that about her.
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, WE’RE sitting on the couch in the living room at Patrick and Jon’s house, hanging out before I have to leave. Olivia keeps subtly poking my thigh, reminding me that I’m supposed to talk to my siblings. Grant is out and about somewhere, so it’s only us. We’ve come to a lull in conversation, Olivia pokes me hard again, and I clear my throat. Might as well get this over with before a bruise forms on my leg.
“I know y’all want to know what’s been going on with me, and I’m ready to talk.” That immediately catches everyone’s attention. “I need you to wait until I finish to say anything or ask questions, okay?”
They nod. This is the moment where I bare my soul for them to see. The thought makes me freeze, my mouth seals shut. Olivia takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Each of them is watching me, looking a little nervous and worried, but expectant and ready for answers. I need to do this for them and for me. With a deep breath and my eyes on my baby sister, I get started.
“I’ve been battling depression.” That’s easily the hardest sentence I’ve ever had to say to them. Lucy immediately looks concerned and I have to force myself to continue, to ignore the big brother protective urge to keep this from her, to save Lucy from any worry. “This isn’t something that started with my injury. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a l
ong time, definitely since high school if you want a time frame, but my injury is what triggered it again.”
Hopefully that’s enough history because I’m ready for this to be over. It’s time to start the reassurance aspect. “I’m in a better place right now. I’ve started seeing a psychiatrist and a therapist, so I’m learning how to deal with it better than I was. Football was the main way I coped, and without that…” I trail off, not wanting to say the words out loud, that I can’t deal with life.
“I missed too many days of school and that’s why I was dropped this semester. I really like my job, too. I’ll probably do this instead of going back in the fall. I’m sorry for worrying you guys, but you know as well as I do I’m not one to want to talk about anything. I thought it was time y’all knew though, and I don’t want to keep the important things from you either.”
The silence is enough to make me start regretting telling them. I can’t read their faces well enough to know exactly what they’re thinking, other than they’re thinking hard. Lucy, my sweet baby sister, speaks first.
“What do you need us to do to help?”
“I, uh.” Hell if I know.
Olivia speaks for me. “He needs support and understanding. The therapist is helping him with the rest, but if there’s anything else, he’ll tell you from now on. Right, Corey?” She gives me a pointed look.
“Right,” I nod. “I’ll do my best to keep you updated and to talk to you.”
Jon, who is sitting on the other side of me, slaps my shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”
“Yeah, whatever you need, tell us,” Patrick tells me. “I don’t know about them, but I’m pissed you didn’t say something sooner. You know we’d do anything for you, and we could have been more helpful if we knew what the hell was going on. I’ll forgive and forget for you because I get why you didn’t.”
“Can we stop tip-toeing around stuff now? Does this mean we’ll actually talk about things instead of pretending we don’t have to?” Lucy inserts after him. “Like Mom and Dad,” she adds, more softly.
My head shakes before I can think twice about it. “Luce.” My voice is raspy as my throat suddenly aches. Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath to compose myself and my thoughts before I continue. “You can talk about them as much as you want.”
“Not without you acting like you are right now,” she interrupts with a gentle tone.
She’s right. I freeze the moment she brings them up, because it’s what I’m used to doing. It’s too difficult to say how much I miss them or how I wish they could see how we turned out, or even how I wish they could see my grandparents again. It’s the same with football. When things get hard, I want to shut up and pretend it doesn’t exist. I do not want that for Lucy, Patrick, and Jon.
“Talk about them and whatever else you want, but,” I pause a moment, “old habits are hard to break. I need to work through my issues more before I can do that with you, okay? Give me time.” All I need is a little time to find a way to be the person they want me to be while managing to stay comfortable and not freak out.
Shouldn’t be too hard.
Ha.
OLIVIA LEAVES FIRST thing Monday morning to go home. She hadn’t decided on three or four days yet, but packed for four just in case. She was going to play it by ear. For some reason, she seemed nervous about it. At least, I thought so. After work, I decide to text her.
Me: How’s your day been so far?
Olivia: Good! About to go out for dinner with family. Yours?
