Man Up

by Kim Oclon

  “I don’t mind if you’re gay,” Will said to me. “I might be. I don’t know yet. But I like going to SAFE.”

  “I, uh,” I stammered. Tyler told Ms. Larson and then lied to me about it. This kid needed to fucking leave now.

  “We’re going over a project for class, Will,” Tyler broke in. “What do you say you let us finish up? I have to get to practice soon.”

  “No problem.” Will took a step back and jammed his hands back in his pockets. “You really should come to another meeting. Think about it.”

  “Okay,” Tyler nodded

  He turned to me. “You should come too. Anyone can come.”

  “I’ve been hearing a lot about it lately,” I said, certain Will didn’t pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. “You did tell them,” I hissed a whisper at Tyler as soon as Will was out of our peripheral vision.

  “I didn’t. I swear.”

  “No? Then what the fuck was that kid talking about?” I’d never talked to Tyler like this before. Our biggest fight to date was when we had a miscommunication about whether or not Tyler had practice after school and I left without realizing he needed a ride. Tyler had to wait almost an hour for his mom to pick him up on her way home from work.

  The apologetic tone left Tyler’s voice. He spoke evenly and firmly. “I just told them I was worried about my boyfriend. Because I am. I didn’t say your name. I didn’t say anything about Kevin or your coach or baseball or anything.”

  “That asshat is going to tell everyone in your group, and they’re going to tell everyone in the school.” I imagined the news spreading from person to person like a huge game of telephone with everyone lining the hallway with their hands cupped over an ear. “It’s pretty obvious that they can’t keep their mouths shut.”

  Tyler took a step forward so that his face was inches from mine but there was nothing affectionate in his face or posture. “I told them what little I did because I needed to tell someone. Because I thought maybe they would understand or that Ms. Larson could help somehow. Maybe if you knew, really knew that not everyone in this school is an asshole you wouldn’t go through your day worried that Kevin Kaminski was going to pop out from inside a garbage can and out you to the whole school. Maybe it’s finally time for you to do that for yourself.”

  I slammed Tyler’s locker door with such force that the latch didn’t catch and it bounced off the frame. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a sauna. Somehow, heat rose from the ground and encircled me. “I can’t believe you would say something like that now.” The teacher with the loud high heels came back down the hallway, hugging a stack of stapled packets. Her small figure gradually got bigger. I turned back to Tyler. “We can’t do this here.”

  Tyler leaned against his locker like he was waiting at a bus stop. “Why not?” He shrugged. “Someone might hear us? I don’t mind. The whole school knows I’m gay.”

  The heat rising up around me circled my head and I began to feel shaky. I guess I didn’t need to ask Tyler any questions about him wanting to be with me. That pretty much said it all. He was right there in front me but couldn’t have been further away.

  The teacher slowed up as she approached Tyler and me. “Everything okay here, gentlemen?”

  “Yup,” I said, unable to look at her.

  “Fine,” Tyler said.

  The teacher gave us a long glance before continuing her trek down the hall. “Well, then, get out of here. It’s Friday.”

  Tyler put his duffle bag over one shoulder and his messenger bag over the other. “I have to go. Practice.” He shut his locker, staring at me, like he was waiting for me to say something.

  I still had my hand on the row of lockers for support. Anything I thought about saying was mean, desperate, or pathetic. “If you have to go.”

  Tyler nodded. “I do.” He turned away from me and quickly walked away.

  I kept my eyes on Tyler’s black canvas shoes with red laces. The soles of his shoes were red too. I watched the quick flicker of red until Tyler turned down the hallway that led to the boys’ locker room. The heat began to subside and dissolve and I was able to take my hand off the lockers.

  Good thing it wasn’t a weight room day. Mike would have given me shit for being so weak. Plus, I didn’t feel like talking to Mike or anyone else. It would be nice for no one to want to talk to me either.

  As I trudged to my locker, I kept my eyes on the floor, dragging my feet over scuff marks, trying to erase the black smudges. The flight of stairs felt like the summit of a mountain I should have trained for in order to climb. I went through the school day trying to remember which classes I had homework in. Pre-calculus? Maybe. Physics? The lab report. That English paper that I really did have to write this weekend.

  Flurries taunted me as I walked to the car. Any other year, the swirling white dust would have made me antsy. When would the team get to practice outside for the first time? Was the first game going to be cancelled, like it usually was? When would we finally get to play?

  I kicked up some loose gravel with the toes of my shoes. The car door creaked open like it would fall off if I closed it too hard. I didn’t wait for the vents to blow lukewarm air before I shifted the brown boat into gear and sped out of the parking lot. On the way home, I found myself taking the route to Tyler’s house. I almost pulled into the driveway before realizing that Tyler wasn’t sitting in the passenger seat, bobbing his head along with the radio so the little puffball attached to his hat danced around.

  CHAPTER 12

  TYLER

  I barreled through the hallway as much as someone lugging a bag of textbooks and another stuffed with practice clothes could barrel. With each step, the corner of one of my books hit me in the leg. That was not how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to tell David that we could do this together and I would be right here for him. If he wanted to rent a skywriter, I would have given him the money. If he wanted to do it quietly, telling Mike first and whoever else, I would have been by his side. But, that was before he said I have no idea what you’re talking about.

  It stabbed me in a way I wasn’t expecting. You’d think I would have been ready for something like that given our in-school charade the last six months. Six months, two weeks, and three days.

  And to think I was going to talk to David about prom this weekend.

  He couldn’t even be honest in an empty hallway. He was going to walk into a room full of people with me? Bullshit.

  Taking loud, deep breaths in an effort to calm the volcano that was about to erupt in my chest, I flung open the door that led to the athletic locker rooms and offices. It slammed against the cinderblock wall and closed with a bang that echoed in the rank halls that looked and felt more like a dungeon than an area of a high school devoted to athletics.

  As I passed the athletic director’s office, I ran right into someone, hard. Our bodies ricocheted off one another. My messenger bag, weighted with books fell into the crook of my elbow and threw me off balance. I stumbled back a few steps in an effort to stay on my feet.

  “What the fuck?” the other person yelled as if someone squirted ketchup all over his brand-new shirt.

  “Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” I managed to regain my balance and swung my arm so the bag repositioned itself on my shoulder.

  “Too busy thinking about your boyfriend?”

  The volcanic feelings that coursed through me only a moment before were replaced with ice. Kevin Kaminski stood with his arms folded, looking down at me with this twisted smirk. His dirty blonde hair stuck out from a fitted backwards Yankee cap and stuck to his forehead in little points.

  Too many people cowered in the presence of him. David among them. I was not going to be one of those people. “Actually, I was. Not that it should matter to you.” I stepped to the side to go around him.

  Kevin grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him so he could growl in my ear. “Yeah it matters to me when I have to be in the same locker room as someone who likes dic
k.” He glanced at the door to the athletic office and dragged me a few feet down the hallway to a nearby bathroom.

  “Get the fuck away from me.” I flapped my arm in an effort to loosen Kevin’s grip, but it only made him clamp his fingers down harder. For the second time in two days I was thrown back onto that limestone path in the forest preserve going for a run at dusk.

  Kevin flung me into the wall. I tried to catch my balance before banging into the blinding white blocks, but my arms were tangled in my bags and I banged my head on the hand dryer. I managed to stay on my feet and rubbed my forehead, trying to extinguish the firecrackers going off behind my eyes.

  “If Coach Kelly doesn’t think it is appropriate for him to make decisions about his players based on who they like to fuck then I’ll say it.” Kevin stood over me so it was impossible for me to get around him. “Tell your boyfriend to sit this season out.” He sneered and adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, which looked rather empty considering it was the weekend. “Maybe he should go out for the track team. Bunch of fags running in circles so you can check out each other’s asses.”

  Only a couple sparks remained of the fireworks display going off in my head. “I think he would prefer to play baseball.” I pushed Kevin off of me.

  “Prefer?” Kevin said the word as if I used it to mock him. “I’d prefer for him to keep his gay ass away from me.”

  I couldn’t get away that night, but this time I was going to. “I have to get to practice.” With my head throbbing, I tried to slide past Kevin. He sidestepped to block my path. I couldn’t go the other way because the sink was in my way. If I stepped further to the side, Kevin would only block me again.

  “Indoor track, huh?” The smirk on Kevin’s face made me want to rip it right off and flush it down a toilet. “Even gayer than regular track.”

  “Watch out,” I warned, using the comeback I’d used before. “If anyone were to walk in here and see the two of us together they might start thinking things.”

  “Fuck you,” Kevin said, grabbing me by the back of the neck and bashing my face into the rim of the sink.

  I closed my eyes, bracing for impact but it still felt like something in my head exploded. Maybe I was disoriented, but I swear I heard maniacal laughing echoing through the dungeons of the athletic area as my arms flailed, unsuccessfully trying to find the floor before my head hit it.

  CHAPTER 13

  DAVID

  With Robert at yet another practice for the all mighty Rebels, my dad finishing up the basement job, and Mom doing a very early shift at the nursing home, I had the house to myself on a Saturday morning. It was something that rarely happened, which is why I spent most of their time at Tyler’s house. Plus, he had his own bedroom.

  I would have texted him to tell him to come over to my house for once, praying it was possible to ignore the twin bed on the opposite side of my bedroom but I didn’t. I couldn’t. If Tyler wanted to break up with me, he was going to have to officially do it. Besides, he should be the one to get in touch with me. He’s the one who stabbed me in the back…twice. Telling everyone at SAFE and Ms. Larson. And then throwing that shit in my face about him being out and everyone knowing.

  The open laptop on the kitchen table reminded me that my stupid English paper still needed to be written. I would have finished it last night if Robert didn’t come into our bedroom with a loud sigh, demanding to know when I was going to be done. He explained that he had to go to bed because he had an early and important practice in the morning. My response was an equally loud exhale as I closed the laptop and shut the light off as I left the bedroom, leaving my little brother standing in the dark.

  I drowned a bowl of shredded wheat in milk and carried it over to the table. Rather than finish the paper, I checked my phone to see if I missed anything. What a dumbass. The last text came from Mike last night who had asked me if I wanted to go see a movie with him, Carrie, and a couple of Carrie’s friends.

  With a mouthful of cereal, my hands hovered over the keyboard as if there was something my fingers were anxious to type but my brain wasn’t sending the message. Using only my pointer finger, I searched gay baseball player. I was looking for a name. Maybe a name I would recognize from a lifetime of following the White Sox and learning about countless other major league players. There was a story about a basketball player, the NFL player I heard the news story a couple years ago, the NFL draft pick who came out, and a few articles about a player in the seventies that claims he was the real first professional athlete to publicly come out. I quickly scanned the links and saw headlines that read I Know I had a Gay Teammate, I Would Welcome a Gay Teammate, and MLB Ready for First Openly Gay Player.

  The results were much more positive than I expected. I thought the first few links would be message boards devoted to gay bashing and locker room fears. When I got to the bottom of the page, I cleared his search history, shut the laptop, and brought my cereal bowl to the sink.

  It should be easy. It should. The major leagues were ready, or so they said, so why wasn’t I?

  My phone rang and vibrated so it moved along the edge of the table, playing the opening notes to the White Sox fight song of 1959. I kept it as one of my ring tones because Robert told me it was stupid.

  With a knee buckle and neck jerk at the sudden noise, I engaged in a staring contest with my phone, willing the picture of Tyler in the puffball hat to appear on the screen. This has to be him. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would text me before noon on a Saturday. But, when I finally looked at the screen I didn’t see any picture, just Mike’s name.

  Found tokens to Grand Slam! Wanna go?

  That was the batting cage Mike and I spent most of the off season at. Score! When?

  Whenever. Just gotta meet C for the big 10-month anniversary later.

  Carrie loved to commemorate each month anniversary. Sounds special.

  Her idea.

  I glanced at the clock. Dad should be gone all afternoon and Mom was going to pick up Robert on her way home from work. Wanna go now?

  B there soon.

  I sent him emojis of a bat and a ball and set the phone on the counter. It would feel good to hit something hard over and over again.

  CHAPTER 14

  TYLER

  There was no hiding it from Mom and Dad this time. The gash on my forehead and swollen face. The fact that I needed to call Mom at work so she could come pick me up. I stayed in the bathroom until she came, telling her to text me when she was out front.

  She wanted to take me to the hospital. I told her home would be fine. My dad wanted to call the police. I told him we would take care of everything later. They asked me if they should try to reach David.

  I told them no.

  CHAPTER 15

  DAVID

  Ready to get out of the silence, I sat on the couch nearest to the front door and occupied myself by tracing the tiny checked pattern on the couch. It was hard to trace one square without touching the ones next to it.

  I unzipped my jacket, which I had put on as soon as we made our plans. Chances were that Mike just got up and didn’t eat anything and still needed to get dressed. I probably had at least ten minutes before he got here. Maybe I should text Tyler. Something lame about how practice was, just to let him know I didn’t hate him for literally turning his back on me. I was madder at him than I was at Kevin. But Tyler was acting like I should be thanking Kevin for being a douchebag and an asshole.

  A car honked as if its goal were to wake up someone sleeping at a red light. That was definitely Mike. I grabbed my equipment bag, threw my phone into it and left the house. Since the backseat was so clean, I felt like Mike’s mom would yell at me for dirtying it up with my bag, but the car was Mike’s. It was only a few years old because his dad “happened” to be in the market for a new car at the same time Mike got his driver’s license. It was silver and small, and still really clean. Pretty amazing considering Mike had already driven it through a baseball season.

 
“Hey,” Mike said, putting the car in reverse and speeding down my street.

  I had to twist to click my seatbelt. “How was the movie last night?”

  Mike shrugged. “It was all right. The good guys won and the world didn’t end. Spoiler alert.”

  “I had a feeling that’s how it turned out.”

  “Kevin showed up to the same show at the same theater. What are the odds?”

  “Yeah?” I shifted in his seat. The whole point of going to the batting cages with Mike was so I wouldn’t think about Kevin. And thinking about Kevin made me think about Tyler, which was weird. I didn’t like the two of them being connected in my thoughts.

  “He was there with Elise. Apparently they’re together now.”

  I looked out the window. “I thought she was smarter than that.”

  Grand Slam Baseball Center smelled like the weight room. Rubber that somehow managed to soak up the stench of sweat. A slight odor of burning plastic mixed in because of the balls that zipped through the pitching machines. The various bats making connections with balls sounded like they were people attempting to clap together but kept coming in offbeat. The batting cages were to one side and an open area of fake turf was on the other. A variety of equipment designed to increase bat speed and precision was scattered about the area.

  Only two people were having private hitting lessons today. A boy, who looked to be about nine years old, retrieved balls that were strewn around this net he was hitting into. His batting helmet wobbled on his head like it was a bobble head. The other guy looked like he was probably in high school. He had swung at a ball on a tee and froze on the moment of connection. His instructor circled his frozen figure and appeared to be offering critiques of the guy’s hips, feet, hands, and the angle of the bat.

  “Here, check this out.” Mike moved off to the side of the door we walked into the entryway and dug into a pocket of his equipment bag. He held up a sandwich bag sagging from the weight of a handful of batting tokens.