by Van Barrett
I peeked between the cracks of my fingers. “Devon. Please. Please tell me you didn't give Jono that picture.”
Because that picture was friendship destroying material. That one picture alone had the power to destroy not just me and River, but me and Devon. One way or another, things were going to get ruined.
“I didn't, Lane, I swear I'd never do that. Jono must've gotten into my e-mail before we deleted it. That's what he means by the password comment, I'd guess. I'm so, so sorry, Lane.”
“Oh. God.” I covered my eyes up again. “River's gonna hate me. The rest of the school, too. And all those hockey nuts. That's it. It's over. I'm done.”
Devon tried to squeeze me tight again, but I broke free from her grasp and rushed over to my cell phone. While River and his team were coming back out onto the ice to start the third period, I sent River a text. And another and another and another. They just kept coming because I didn't know how to get out what I had to say.
“I am so, so, so, so sorry.”
“You are totally, absolutely, within you rights to hate me.”
“I wish I could explain.”
“I know it doesn't make it any better. But I did that before anything happened. It was a mistake. I was drunk. I know that's not an excuse. Please. I'm sorry.”
“River … I'm so sorry.”
43
He's Dead
– River –
Between the second and third periods, I rallied the troops. I was finally starting to wake up and play the game.
“Okay, boys, we got one on the board. That's the important part, getting that first goal before the period ended. We need one more to tie it, boys. This is it. Everything we worked for all season. We're not letting it slip away this easy, boys.”
We got fired up. And when we took the ice for the third, I could sense it. Denver was nervous.
I found my game in that third period. Good timing, too, because the DU defense shifted their focus from me over to Lettuce. As a small-bodied freshman, they hit him hard and often to take his mind out of the game.
But the urgency had finally set in – and I knew how bad we had to win this one. And the stuff with Jono was quickly vanishing in my rear-view mirror. With Lettuce trending down, I knew I had to step up big and lead my team to victory.
Five minutes into the third, I dangled past the DU defense. I made the defense think I was gonna pass – my head stayed locked on Lettuce the whole way through the slot – and the goalie cheated to Lettuce's side. I saw him move from the corner of my eye, and I spied that he'd left the short top corner unprotected. Never taking my eye off Lettuce and selling 'pass' the whole way, I let a sneaky snap shot rip instead. My aim was perfect. I hit the open corner and the goalie was stunned.
Tie game.
From there, we took over. Once you've tied the game up, it's easier to keep the pedal to the metal. For the team that's just blown a lead, it's tough to transition from protecting a lead to trying to regain it. We never looked back, and we won the game 4-2.
When the final horn sounded, we raced back to the dressing room. Santana's Smooth blared and we went wild, partying it up. I congratulated Ocho and Ells for making the right decision – putting Lettuce in Jono's spot.
And after our celebration started to taper down, the cell phones came out. The boys texted and called family and friends to shout and scream about how we're “going to the finals, baby!”
I pulled out my cell phone, too. And I saw I'd gotten a shit-load of texts from Lane. I got excited at first – maybe he felt the same way I did? About things not having to end? But then I opened those texts.
Sorry this, sorry that, I don't blame you if you hate me. Long winded texts about what a terrible person he was. How great I was, and how I was right about everything and he had kept something from me since day 1. All that. Whatever it was, Lane was very, very sorry.
“Uh oh.” I swallowed, immediately fearing, no, knowing it was the worst. Jono did something, didn't he. But I couldn't pull myself to pull up DeadSpin. I couldn't will myself to stare the monster in the face.
Slowly, a quiet settled over the room. There was a huddle at the other side of the dressing room bench. The boys were all crowded around Ocho's phone to see whatever he had on his screen. Big eyes and blank faces glanced up at me. All I could hear was the sound of twenty husky Adam's apples all plunging down dry throats, one after another.
“Uh. Riv?” Ocho said at last.
“Yeah?”
“Think you better come see this, captain.”
I trudged across the room. Slowly. Like I was about to face the firing squad. My crime? Loving another man. My punishment? Summary execution of my reputation and career.
The boys in the huddle stepped aside and let me have access. I crouched next to Ocho and looked at his phone. It was DeadSpin. Of course it was. And there, staring me in the face, was my own goddamn cock. Lane's arm next to it, his hand balled into a fist. To more accurately show my size, I guessed. And that tattoo. That fucking tattoo removed all doubt. If you had any doubt that arm didn't belong to Lane, forget it, one needed only to see the included pictures of Lane, from his very own Facebook, that showed him sporting the same tattoo.
Why? That's all I could think. Why had he taken a picture of that dildo? Of my most private, intimate body part? And how the hell did he let it get out in the first place?!
I'd been back-stabbed. All along, he swore to me he'd never tell anybody about us. And yet … while he was saying that, he was posing in pictures with my dildo. And sending the pictures to God-knows how many people.
Enough people that Jono found it, anyway.
With a long, deep inhale, I took a seat on the bench and mumbled.
“He's dead.”
I meant Jono. But they thought I meant Lane.
“I don't blame you, River, but don't do anything stupid.”
“Yeah, if you beat this gay guy up, the media will call it a hate crime, and then NHL teams might be afraid to sign you, and . . .”
Don't get me wrong. I was certainly mad at Lane, too; he'd betrayed me in the most personal and public and embarrassing way. But ultimately, this was obviously Jono's doing.
Ocho read the article aloud. I sat there and listened, but only some of the words actually made it through my ears and registered in my brain.
“… we interviewed a local sex-shop owner, who confirmed that this is a Clone-A-Cock dildo, a product that Matthews has recommended to his readers in the past …”
“… the question remains: is it really River Brame's penis? If so, did Matthews help him make this adult toy? And is there something deeper, perhaps a connection more raw and intimate, boiling under the surface between Brame and M--”
“Enough!” I roared, finally snapping out of my trance. My hand gripped Ocho's shoulder and I squeezed hard.
“Ow. Alright. Sorry Riv.” He turned his phone off. “Just thought you might wanna hear what's out there. Sorry.”
“I don't.”
“Is it – is it really yours, River?” Ells asked.
“I don't wanna talk about it, Ells.”
“I'm just saying … because if it is? Shit man. Not to sound gay myself. But uh. You know. You're kinda packin' some heat there, River. So, uh, maybe it's not the most embarrassing thing to have floatin' around on the internet. You know?”
The room tittered like school-boys after an inappropriate joke.
“Shit, if it were me, I'd leak it myself,” Robby Cooke mumbled. More giggles.
“Hell, I'd make that my Facebook profile pic. With the caption, WHAT'S UP, LADI--”
“Stop!” I growled. I wasn't having it. “Seriously guys, that's enough. I'm not in the mood to joke around about this. We're gonna shower up, and go do our media interviews, and no one is going to comment on this. Understand?” I shook my head and walked off for the showers. “I don't wanna hear another word about it.”
And then we're gonna ride the bus to the airport, and if Jono's d
umb enough to show up for the flight back to North Dakota, I'm gonna kill him.
***
I paced around the waiting area of the airport, my fists balled and clenching in anger. The post-game media circus certainly hadn't calmed my nerves. Forget the fact that the Fighting Hawks were going to national championships next weekend. The reporters were more interested in asking about the story they had already nicknamed 'DildoGate.'
River, the dild--
No comment.
But is it truly your penis?
No comment.
Can you at least say if the dildo belongs to you?
No comment.
Do you know how this picture got released?
No comment.
Can you at least tell us if that's Lane Matthews' arm in the picture?
No comment.
Some tech-wise people looked at the EXIF data on that picture. Turns out that picture contains all sorts of data, like the phone number of the cell phone that took the picture, and the geo-spatial latitude and longitude coordinates of the phone at the time of the picture. The phone number has since been confirmed as Lane Matthews' number, and the geo-data matches the location of your home address at Gallery Apartments. Any comment?
No. No comment.
But hearing that last bit scared the hell out of me. The tattoo was the least of my concerns, apparently. Cell phone pictures had data in them? Data that told you who took the picture and where? Jeez. Great. And also, creepy. I was done.
So, after enduring a few minutes of torture at the media's hands, the team kicked the media out and we packed up and got on the bus. The boys knew I was fuming. They left me alone. I sat in the back of the bus, with several empty rows of seats between me and the next brave soul who dared to come close to me.
Same deal on the plane, too. I sat alone and no one bothered me or tried to think up any cute words to try to calm me down.
When the plane rushed down the runway and lifted from the ground, Jono still hadn't shown.
Where is he.
44
The Afterlife
– Lane –
Blinding bright white light. I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to resist the light. Don't go into the light – I'm not supposed to die yet! Resist … resist! But the light's too strong. It's too pure and it grows brighter. It stabs through my eyelids. I feel my material body break apart and fade into the ether, my soul emerging as I surrender to the purifying light.
Fine. Take me. I'm done.
“Hnnngh.” I grumbled and groaned as the white, glowing, angelic afterlife took form before me.
There was a figure, standing tall and looming over me. It was a familiar figure. One that reminded me of a special time in my life – a time when I had love, but was too afraid, too unsure how exactly I should claim it. The review of my life lessons was apparently already starting.
The golden figure came into focus. It was River. It's River! I felt a fondness fill my heart, and flow ever forth – here we are! Me and River! In the afterlife! Reunited at last! Given a second chance, here in eternity, where things will be so much easier. Where money and fame won't deter us, where social and cultural norms can't stop us from being one.
“Hey,” River said.
“Riiiiiver,” I moaned, finding it hard to speak.
My eyes blinked. The shapes before me, once made of pure golden light, began to dull and lose their sheen. They solidified in form. This was – River's room? Wait, River's room is the afterlife? No, that couldn't be – maybe his room was just the entrance to the afterlife? The gate to heaven? I did have some fun times in that room during my life, after all.
River's glowing angelic form solidified, too. Until he became less angelic. He became … human. And he didn't look like a happy human.
Wait a minute, what's going on?
“Hey,” River repeated. “Wake up.”
He didn't sound like a happy human, either.
I cleared my throat and rubbed my throbbing head as recent events returned to me. This wasn't the afterlife, though I certainly felt like death. I was still drunk, but already suffering from a level 9 hangover. Ow.
I sat up. In River's bed. With Devon was passed out next to me. We'd both fallen asleep with all our clothes on, shoes and all.
River shook his head. “Looks like you guys had a hell of a party out there. The place is really trashed. I even found Deke snoring in a pizza box.”
“Aaaoh,” I moaned. I shook Devon to wake her up. “Dev. Wake up, Dev. He's back.”
River sighed and leaned against the wall. He waited for us to pull ourselves together enough to get up. I looked at the clock – 2 AM.
“What're you doing back so early?” I grumbled.
“We flew back from Ohio after the game. This is the time we were scheduled to get in. Nothing new, I told you all this the other day.”
“Oh.” Right. I knew that. I knew he was getting in late tonight – and my original plan was to be gone by that point. But, alcohol happened, and … so did the other things. “River … I'm really sorry about everyth--”
River wasn't having it. He cut me off. “Please. Just get up. I've had a long night. I wanna go to bed. Alone.”
He turned and left the room. Me and Devon slowly pulled our carcasses up.
“Shit,” she grumbled. “He's mad.”
“Yeah. I would be too.”
“What do we do?”
“I dunno.”
I stood up. The room was spinning, but I did my best to pretend that I was in total control. When we were ready to emerge, me and Devon stumbled out from River's room and found him in the living room. Where he was hard at work at picking up all our trash.
“Don't do that. You shouldn't have to do that.” I staggered over and took the armful of bottles away from him. But, clumsy me, I immediately dropped them. They clanged and rolled around on his hardwood floor.
River sighed. He did not look amused.
“Um …” Devon spoke slowly. “Sorry the circumstances are so awful … but it's nice to finally meet you?” She stuck her hand out to River. After a long pause, he shook it. “I should get going, though. It's late.”
“How are you getting home.” River asked, though his voice lacked the intonation of a question.
“I definitely can't drive … sooo … I'll call a cab.”
“A Saturday night, after a big game like that, you're not gonna get through to the cab company.” River shook his head. He grabbed his motorcycle keys. “I'll give you a ride. Come.”
“Oh. Uh. Okay?” Devon shrugged. “Thanks?” She gave me a look of sorrow and mouthed, call me later.
“I'll stay behind and clean up, River.”
River nodded. And without another word, he took off with Devon.
And I went to work on cleaning up our horrible mess, wondering if maybe I had died and gone to hell instead.
***
River returned 20 minutes later. I was still bagging up all our bottles and cans. He stood and watched me work silently. I didn't know what to do or say. All I felt was shame and embarrassment. Guilt. Everything. I knew he didn't want me to say anything, but I wished like hell I could get on my knees and grovel for forgiveness.
Finally, he spoke, the hint of a waver in his voice. “You know.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and shamefully gave him my attention.
“You know, I knew doing this with you, that we might get caught someday. I tried to keep it a secret, but I knew. I knew it was risky.”
My eyes started to well up.
“And if that happened, if word got out, I'd deal with it. But you know the thing that really hurts? The part where you swore up and down you hadn't told anyone. And now look.” He held up his cell phone. With the dildo dick pic on the screen. “You didn't just tell people. You made evidence. And so I didn't just get caught – I got turned into a public laughingstock.”
“River … I'm sorry … I didn't mean t--”
“Yeah, no. No one ever means
to hurt anyone, do they? But they do.”
“What do you want me to say …?”
“Nothing, mostly.” River laughed; disappointed, bitter, and hurt. “But go ahead. Tell me why you did it.”
“It was stupid, River--”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“--I took the picture before anything happened between us. I only sent it to Devon. And she deleted it the next day – but not before Jono had logged into her email and saved it …”
River shook his head.
“I know it was stupid. And totally a violation of your privacy. I'm not making any excuses for myself. I regretted doing it the second I sent it, River. I didn't tell you because I thought it was taken care of. I was there when Devon deleted it! And I couldn't tell you, because if you knew, I thought you wouldn't wanna see me anymore--”
“Yeah, you're right about that.”
I dropped my head and nodded. A tear ran down my cheek. “Yeah. That's fair.”
“It's too bad. Because now I have to deal with all this. And you know, I really thought we might be able to carry on in secret. But now it's obviously not gonna happen, because everyone knows.”
I reeled back. “… But River.”
“What?”
“I can't do this whole secret relationship thing. I never could.”
“Clearly,” he said bitterly.
I scoffed and went back to picking up all the trash – but with each passing second, I felt my anger rise. Didn't he realize his part in this whole mess? It wasn't all my fault.
“Your teammate played a pretty big part in this too, don't forget,” I said acidly. “It's not all my fault.”
“So it's all my fault, then?”
“No! Obviously not! I just want you to understand that I never would've been happy being this guy you just kept around in the closet. This guy you could just yank out whenever you felt like experimenting. I have my own life, my own needs,--”
“Ha,” he laughed scornfully. “Yeah, fine. I have my own needs and my own life. And here we are. At a fork in the road.”
