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twenty-seven
Evan
Since I know a shipment of supplies has come in, I take time between my classes to head into the gym to unload it. I don’t have to, but I also don’t want to put it off. We only have a week before break and before Callie and I head to South Carolina on our road trip. We have been planning stops, and I’m really stoked for the ride. We’re even gonna stop in a Bigfoot town—for Aviva, of course—even though I tried to talk Callie into Bigfoot hunting. She was not game.
Sorta rude, in my opinion.
My face hurts from smiling as I head into my office. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Smiling. We’ve been dating for over a month, and truly, it seems like forever. We’ve gotten into such a routine of our runs, training, and classes, but we always make time for each other. We’re still keeping things low-key, but I think the girls are starting to notice we’re more than just friends. Way more than that, honestly. I’ve been taking my meds like a good little boy, as my mom teases me, and I even went to a hockey practice.
Okay, I walked through the rink while they played, but I didn’t throw up or pass out.
Winning.
I move around my office, putting things away and picking up before I grab my scissors and start to open boxes. We’ve had two more exhibition meets, and they’ve gone well. Callie has hit four for four at each event, and we won one meet but lost the other. It’s been good, and I’m excited for the season to kick off once we get back from break.
As I move to restock my tape cabinet, a knock comes to my door. I look over to see Coach there. “Hey, Coach. I didn’t expect you to be here. I thought you were flying out.”
He leans into the doorway. “I had some paperwork to do before my flight. Shouldn’t you be studying for finals?”
“I’m all studied out. Figured I’d do some cleaning and get things right here before I head to the autism center for volunteer hours. I have the whole house coming to work today. They’re going to clean and move stuff for the holiday party.”
“Awesome. You should have made the gymnastics team come too.”
I nod. “Next time, for sure.”
“Good,” he says, and then a silence stretches between us. He looks back at me. “How’s that Jackson kid?”
“Okay. He’s still affected by the whole ordeal, but he’s thankful the case was dropped. I don’t know what to make of it anymore. So many people came out of the woodwork, and it turned into hockey against softball. I heard she’s transferring since some of her teammates did not support her side of the story, and they had video to back that up. Either way, I’m glad the houses aren’t allowed to be around each other for the rest of the year.”
“Yeah, still a shitty situation.”
“Oh, absolutely, but I think everyone learned an important lesson.”
“For sure,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “So, I haven’t asked lately, but how are you?”
My lips quirk at the side. “I’m okay. Better than I was.”
He nods. “I can tell, but I still wanted to ask.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you,” I say a bit shyly as I look down to stack the millions of rolls of tape I have.
“Panic attacks aren’t fun,” he says, and I whip my gaze to him. “I used to have them pretty bad.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he admits, and I’m surprised by that. He doesn’t look like the type, but then, some say the same about me. I don’t know why I even think there is a type. Not all mentally ill people are in straitjackets and fuzzy socks; most are running companies, households, and small businesses. Or, in my case, babysitting a bunch of college boys and taping a bunch of college girls’ ankles.
I ignore my inner monologue as Coach continues, “When I didn’t follow in my family’s footsteps to pursue the Olympic team—instead, going into women’s coaching, which was another hit to my family since we’re all big into men’s gymnastics—they made me feel so badly about myself that I started to believe it. I would eat myself up to the point that I’d lie on the floor and beg for death.”
My stomach drops as my heart hurts for him. “Been there.”
“It isn’t a good place.”
Not at all. “How did you get past it?”
He shrugs. “I decided that at the end of the day, I gotta do what makes me happy. I can’t accept the pressure from my family just to please them. I’m not living a life for them, but for myself. When I’m on my deathbed, will I be happy with the life I’ve lived because I lived it for myself, or will I be disgusted that I allowed the expectations of others to run my life?” Coach’s eyes burn into mine, and I’m unable to speak. “I may be out of line here, but… Evan, it’s your life. Own it.”
I swallow hard, and I feel my eyes burning with tears. I’ve wanted so badly to be who my dad, my mom, and my brother have seen me as. The rest of my siblings didn’t care one way or the other, but I’ve put pressure on myself to be the version of me that Owen and my parents see. For the first time, I’m not their version. I’m my own. I’m molding minds, I’m assisting girls with their gymnastics careers to keep them healthy and safe, and I’m volunteering to help autistic kids with daily life skills. I run because I like to, not because I need to keep my endurance up. I haven’t stepped on a sheet of ice, and I’m okay with it because I don’t need to in order to be a person I like.
I actually like myself right now.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime. Listen, I know about your family, and I know that a lot of what you put on yourself is self-driven, so do us all a favor. Tell your inner self to shut the fuck up.”
I snort as I nod. “I’m trying.”
“No, you’re doing your best, and you have some intense cheerleaders.”
I can’t help but get a little giddy inside, thinking of one special one.
“But listen, I get how you feel, and I understand. Reach out anytime.”
“I appreciate that.”
“All right. I’m out of here—”
“Coach,” I say, stopping him before he leaves.
“Yeah?”
