by R. J. Scott
“I love him as one person loves another,” I encouraged gently. “Wholly and completely, and when I go home, it will be hard, but we’ll make it work.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
“You won’t have to see me tomorrow, but Elizabeth wants her brother at her party and at the church. Please don’t shut him out and break his heart.”
She hugged herself hard, and I waited with bated breath.
“I will see Alex in the morning,” she whispered. “I need to talk to his papá, try and keep them apart and calm everything down.” Then she cleared her throat. “Not you, though. It’s too much.”
I could accept that, although I doubted Alex would be happy, but his mama was compromising, and maybe Alex needed to do so as well for a while.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. Then I let myself out the back door. Alex was waiting for me, fear on his face.
“She’ll be okay,” I exaggerated the hope I’d seen in her. “She wants you there tomorrow.”
He closed his eyes briefly and nodded, and I left him so he and his sister could talk privately. When he climbed into the car, he looked exhausted, and I wanted to touch him or hold him. I didn’t do either. Instead I started the engine and headed for our hotel.
Where I’d need to tell him the deal I’d struck with his mom.
Seventeen
Alex
“No, forget it.”
Sebastian’s sullen expression wasn’t going to sway me, nor would the pleading gaze.
“Alejandro.” He sighed, grabbing my attention as I paced our comfy hotel room like a caged puma. I’d only heard him use my Spanish name once before. I was always Alex or a tender endearment of some sort. Obviously, I’d worked through all that British patience and decorum.
“No. I brought you because I wanted to be seen with you. To let my family know that we’re a couple, that I’m gay, and I am not ashamed of being gay any longer.”
“I’d say you have successfully announced your queer status to the entire Santos-Garcia clan quite robustly if not eloquently.” He was seated in a green armchair by the window, the air blowing the white-and-green curtains, his eye turning more purple by the minute. “Now that the bomb has been dropped, it’s time to start sifting through the debris for survivors.”
“Of which there are none.” I dropped to the bed, my legs growing weary. I’d been circling this room for over an hour, trying to work off some of the emotions threatening to drown me.
“Not true,” he replied softly, tossing his ice bag to the nightstand. “Your sister and grandmother are firmly behind you.”
“Wow, two out of what? Two hundred?”
“Those two are more than many young gays have,” he reminded me. I groaned at the guilt, the anger simmering inside me cooling a little. “I hazard to say that many more will be accepting as well.”
“Not my parents…”
He stood, walked over to the bed, and sat beside me. His hand slipped around my back, and the dam broke. There was no curbing the rushing river of pain. It swept over the top of the dam just as I feared it would. A raspy gasp and the tears were there. Seb pulled me to his side, settling my head to his shoulder, and let me weep until I was unable to cry any longer.
“Here,” he whispered, passing me a small emerald box of tissues. I wiped and blew and coughed, shame heating my cheeks. Papá would’ve been so disgusted to see these tears. Real men did not cry. Of course, Papá was already sickened about his youngest son, so would a crying fit really make him hate me more?
“I shouldn’t have come out to them,” I said, my voice scratchy and thick. “I knew I shouldn’t have done this. Deep down, I knew it. The lie wasn’t that bad of a way to live.”
“Alex, you know that lie was eating you from the inside out like battery acid.” He ran his hand over my hair and the nape of my neck. “Hiding who you were was corroding every aspect of your life from hockey to your friendships to any possible relationship you wished to have. No, coming out was right. It was a life-saving measure. Your chosen delivery method may have been a bit… cataclysmic, but the intent was sound.”
A gruff laugh-snort burbled out of me. “I blew the mierda out of things.”
“Yes, yes, you did, but that was inevitable. We knew your news was going to upset people. We didn’t know they’d be so quick to punch a perfectly innocent Englishman in the face, though.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I am so sorry you got hurt. This whole mess is just a… mess. I’ve lost my family now.” The pain was incredible.
“No, no, you haven’t. You still have family that loves you. Your mother wants to meet with you in the morning. Go see her. Sit down and talk with her.” His touch on my scalp was soothing. I never wanted it to stop.
“Not without you,” I stated with as much force as I could muster, which wasn’t much. I was drained.
“Yes, without me. My presence upsets them, your parents, and I can understand why. No, please, just stop defending me. I love that you’re so protective, I truly do.” He pressed a kiss to my ear, right at the top. “But I’m a grown man. I am able to handle some dislike, trust me. Right now, they need distance from the older man who, they may feel, led you into this gay lifestyle.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” I snapped, my head leaving his shoulder as a new wave of anger appeared.
“We know it, but they don’t. Alex, they know little to nothing of the LGBT experience, only what they’ve been taught by nuns and priests. It’s up to you to educate them. Calmly, rationally, and with love. Your parents love you a great deal. I saw that. They’ll come around—I can feel it.”
“But I want you at the party. You’re my boyfriend. It’s not fair that everyone else gets to bring the person they love, but I don’t.” As soon as that left my mouth, I heard the whiny brat tone it carried. “Nope, don’t say it. Life isn’t fair.” I sighed. He gave me a weary smile. “What will you do all day tomorrow alone? I just… fuck! I hate the idea of leaving you here.”
“I’ll be fine. I have books on my phone to read, work that I can do, TV, a bar, and room service.” He slipped his hand into my hair, his nails gently scratching over my scalp. I shuddered with delight, like a puppy getting a belly rub. “I’ll be fine. It’s only for four hours, right?”
“Yeah, but still…”
We both startled when someone knocked on the door. I rose and pattered into the bathroom to wash my face, leaving Seb to deal with whomever was rapping away. When I exited the bath, my cheeks chilled from cold water, I stalled as my gaze landed on Juan standing next to Sebastian.
My older brother took one look at me, opened his arms, and called me over. I choked on the feelings balling up suddenly in my throat. I jogged around the bed and hugged my brother so tightly he wheeze-laughed.
“Oh, hermanito, qué día has tenido,” he murmured as we hugged it out. Yeah, it had been one hell of a day for his little brother. “Luisa and Elizabeth, along with Abuela, are bending our parents’ ears, informing them that they need to lighten the hell up, step into the twenty-first century, and let you live your life as God has intended you to.”
I loved my siblings so fucking much right now I was speechless. The three of us sat up until midnight talking, sipping beer from the minibar in the corner, and trying to work out how to handle Elizabeth’s quinceañera festivities tomorrow. There were no easy answers, but I’d been coerced into leaving Sebastian behind for this affair but no others. That was to be explained to my parents, the priest, and anyone else who had issue with the new gay Alejandro.
Still, having that all worked out didn’t help me sleep. I lay in bed next to Seb, listening to him breathing and staring at the dark gray suit that I’d packed for the party hanging over the bathroom door. Morning brought more angst as I gathered my suit and dress shoes after my shower and shave and kissed Sebastian goodbye. I hated, and I mean hated, seeing that hotel door close between us. The drive to my parents’ modest three-bedroom, two-bathroom house
on East Adobe Street was not a happy one. I parked in the short drive outside the stucco home and stared at it. I’d grown up here. Played in the carport, went to school two blocks over, ridden my bike up and down the sidewalks, slept in a bunk bed over my brother for years. I’d eaten and bathed here, prayed here, and sang songs with Abuela here as we baked empanadas, conchas, and marranitos. Right now, it felt nothing like home. It was just an old house built in the late ‘80s that lacked heart. That was because I’d been forced to leave my heart back in that hotel room.
The front door opened, and Elizabeth raced out, her hair already artfully done up, her tiara fastened to her head, her eyes shining, and her feet bare. The cutoff jean shorts and BTS tank top paired with the glittery tiara piled among thick ebony curls was quite the look. It made me smile. She made me smile. I was swept up in her joy, and before I knew it, was inside the house, suit slung over my shoulder, listening to her go on and on about her gown, it was yellow, her makeup, her Dwayne, her first pair of high heels that Papá would give her and her last baby doll that Mamá would gift her with. I did not begrudge her being a little self-centered. It was her day. Not mine. I’d resigned myself after talking with Juan and Seb that I would not allow my shit to dim my baby sister’s special day. If someone got into my face or slung slurs, I was ignoring them. Four hours. I could deal with hate for four hours. I’d done it all my life.
Mamá stepped out of the kitchen, her hair also gathered up off her neck in a fancy, curly style. She was in her robe and slippers, but her good pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes.
“You’re early,” my mother said, reaching out to touch my arm. “We’re just doing our hair. Abuela is in her bedroom with your Tía Margarita. Come and sit with me. We should talk, I think, with some coffee.”
“Si, Mamá.”
We walked past a large statue of the Virgin Mary, my great-grandmother’s rosary hanging from the Virgin’s praying hands. I kissed my fingers, then placed them on Mary’s soft blue robes, asking her in my head for her love and guidance as I talked with my mother. I sat in my customary seat, the one beside the doorway, and smiled shakily at my mother when she placed a cup of strong coffee in front of me. She was a short woman, plump, with eyes the same color and shape as mine, or mine were like hers, to be precise.
“Mijo,” she began, then paused as she worked out what she wished to say. “Alejandro, your sister and your grandmother told me I should not talk about the church, but how can I not when so much of what we are is part of the church?”
“I think they mean not to use religion to hide behind. If you have a problem with me being gay, then say so. Be honest, don’t hide behind dogma.”
“Yes, okay, I do not understand this life you choose.” I frowned. She sighed and handed me the sugar bowl. “No, not choose, are part of because you are born so. God made you gay. He does not make mistakes, so all the gays in the world are perfect examples of God’s wonders.”
I snickered as I stirred sugar into coffee rugged enough to eat the barnacles off the side of a tugboat.
“You have been talking with Elizabeth.”
“She has been talking to me and your father and your cousins. She is stubborn like a mule.”
“She takes after you,” I pointed out.
Mamá shook her head, her freshly painted fingernails tapping on the sides of her mug. “Si, yes, in many ways, as do all of you. But also, you are all your own persons. Juan is a funny man, so happy to be single. I do not understand him or any of my children, but because I do not understand does not mean I should not try to understand. So please help me to understand you, Alejandro. When did you know you did not like girls in the normal way?”
I raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t get that arched brow. This was going to take time. A lot of time. I glanced at the clock on the wall. I wasn’t sure we had enough time to cover this one simple question this morning, but I tried my best to explain how I’d come to realize that I was different than the other guys on my team, in my classrooms, in my family.
“Your Tía Celeste was a lesbian,” she whispered after my lengthy explanation, as if she were afraid the Virgin would overhear that admission and scowl at her. “I loved her very much but did not see why she would pick to be alone instead of being with a man. This sort of thing, this being out and gay marches through town, didn’t happen when I was young, and so it was hidden away. Celeste was asked to move away. She died alone, her friendly roommate passing two years before she did. Alejandro, I do not want you to die alone.”
I slid my hand across the table, rolled it over, and opened my fingers. She put her hand into mine, and I squeezed her fingers.
“I won’t. I have Sebastian. Mamá, I’m really mad that you’ve forbidden him from coming to the party.” Her face tightened. “It’s simply not fair.”
“Alejandro, your friend—”
“Boyfriend. He is my boyfriend.”
Her lips flattened a bit. Someone upstairs began singing Beauty and the Beast at the top of her lungs. My sister was going to burst into a supernova before the day was done.
“Yes, of course. Your boyfriend is a smart man, calm and older, mature. He sees that right now, at this party, your being gay in front of the family is going to do more harm than good. Sometimes we must pick our battles. Let today be your sister’s day.”
“I will, but I want you to know that the next time there’s a family event, I’m bringing Sebastian, and I will not hide outside or in a corner.”
“I understand.” She patted my hand. I truly wasn’t sure how much she grasped, but she had been warned. “Now, go let Tía Margarita trim your hair.”
I passed on the haircut but did give my shoes a polish when the dullness of them was mentioned by several aunts. By ten a.m., the house was packed. By eleven, we were all in transit to Our Lady of Guadalupe Church for the short mass. Elizabeth, my parents, and her royal court entered the church first; the rest of us followed. My sister was in a bright yellow ball gown. She truly did look like a Disney princess, and so did her court. My father had yet to talk to me, as had most of my cousins. Héctor had not shown up, which was wise. After my sister received the sacrament, she placed a live bouquet at the base of the statue of the Virgin and received a new Bible, rosary, and a ring from Father Delgadillo.
Then we were whisked off in rented limos to the Desert Winds Restaurant, just four blocks from our church, for the party. The room my parents had rented was decorated in yellow, white, and gold. The tables all had white cloths, beautiful yellow floral arrangements, and gold flatware to match the gilt-edged china plates. There were roughly two hundred people coming, so the massive room was packed full of round tables, as well as a long table for my sister and her court. With so many eyes on me, I hung back, trying to be as unassuming as possible. That was easy, as my sister Elizabeth was so beautiful that all eyes were on her throughout. No one said anything to me, but plenty was said about me. I saw the odd looks, heard the whispers when I’d pass by.
I stayed through the whole thing. Got to see my father and baby sister dance, and yes, he cried but hid it well. The surprise dance was fun, and the food was delicious, the catering company bringing out tons of rich, spicy Mexican food that was almost as good as my mother’s cooking. Almost. The bar was open, the music loud, and my family was in full celebration mode. I made my escape when everyone, including Abuela, was on the dance floor. Slipping outside, I paused by the rear exit, drew in some hot air, and let it out slowly. I lingered in the shade for a minute, calling an Uber out for a ride and trying to shrug off the contempt from so many in my family. I really wasn’t sure what was worse—the silent looks of disgust or a punch in the face. Not that I’d been punched, but I’d have rather thrown down with a few of my male cousins than be subjected to the revulsion on so many faces. Faces of those I’d played with since I’d been in diapers.
The door opened, slapping me in the ass. I leaped aside to let whatever smoker needed a puff out. My father stepped around the door, h
is gaze dropping on me. My fingers tightened on my phone. He was so handsome in a suit that was almost the same smoke gray as mine. His hair was combed back, the silver strands pronounced.
“I can go around front to wait for my ride,” I offered, seeing the unease working its way into his face.
He stared up at the trees swaying in the wind. “Will you be home for your mother’s birthday in August?”
“Sí papá, si me permiten volver a casa.”
His dark eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why would you not be allowed to come home? You are our son, no matter what you are. That will never change.”
Okay, wow. That was not actual hate, I didn’t think. I could deal.
“Thank you. If I come, Sebastian comes with me.”
He studied the trees at length. I checked my phone. My ride was a minute away. “I understand,” he finally replied, then went back inside.
Well, that was also not a real answer, but again, I could deal. He hadn’t slapped me or called me a foul name. I sprinted around the front of the restaurant, pulling my tie free as I ran, and dove into the nice cool backseat of a Honda Accord.
I couldn’t get back to Sebastian’s loving arms fast enough.
Eighteen
Seb
The tone of social media had changed. Not enough to mean I was out of a job, but enough to make me think my strategies were working. I was convinced that if the JAR line stopped making the plays and getting the goals, it wouldn’t be so easy for our fans to accept that Alex was gay. They were becoming heroes in the team, along with Colorado, who was getting steadier with each game he played. Today we had the final promo shoot, three games to go in the full season, and we were actually going to secure a fixed fourth place in our eight, even though we had no statistical chance of getting to the Stanley Cup run.
The mood was high, we were hosting San Diego at home, and Jason was talking at me about the contribution I’d made for the team.
