After The Snap

by Peyton Miller

  He walked to his car, his feet dragging. Why had he parked so far away? He tossed the suitcases into the trunk and put his computer bag in the front seat beside him. With the keys in the ignition, he stared out the front windshield, unable to process his next move. His phone rang and he checked the caller ID, seeing that it was Neil. He couldn’t deal with his ex now, but the call set him in motion. First, he had to find a hotel.

  He used an application on his phone to look for a place to stay, but another call from Neil interrupted his searching. “Fuck.” Colby ignored the call and kept looking for a place to sleep. His thoughts felt more like cotton, mixed together in pathways that were hard to follow, and impossible to control. How could Neil have done this? What was wrong with him? Had he caused Neil to go off and find someone else to fuck? Maybe he should go back to his apartment and confront Neil. If he begged would Neil take him back? If Neil took him back, would he want to be there?

  A tear snaked down his cheek and he swiped it away, pissed that he was crying. What the hell was wrong with him? He had loved Neil, or he thought he had. Maybe what they’d shared wasn’t enough. His thoughts mixed together, coming at him faster than a speeding train, twisting in his mind, they crashed against each other, leaving him unable to make a quick decision on where he should stay or what he should do. His phone rang again and he screamed. His head throbbed and his heart ached as he declined the call once again. Colby picked out a hotel that was only a few miles away and started the engine, ignoring the next call from Neil.

  The drive to the hotel was the longest he’d ever made. He hated himself for not walking back into his apartment to see if Neil had any justification for what he’d done, but he hated himself more for even thinking there was a reasonable defense for Neil’s actions. Gutted was putting it mildly. Neil called another five times before Colby broke down and blocked his number. He couldn’t take calls from Neil, not and keep his sanity. Maybe he would unblock Neil later, maybe he wouldn’t. At the moment, he was hemorrhaging, and if he opened up to Neil, he would die because for some stupid reason he believed that maybe he should just take Neil back. Neil was comfortable, he knew what he was getting into, and he fucking loved the guy—or he had.

  The dark of night weighed on him, pressing down, almost making it impossible to draw a breath. He tried sleeping, but anger took over, then sadness. He cried and screamed into the pillow, beating the mattress as though he were beating Neil’s face. How could he have been so stupid?

  The relationship with Neil had been amazing, leaving him spellbound in the beginning. Neil was older, made more money, had the car, the nice apartment, the cool clothes, and Colby had almost nothing. Neil had easily accepted Colby without freaking out about him being half black. Maybe in New York, or somewhere not in the south, skin color didn’t matter, but here, in Atlanta, it still did. When he’d shown Neil photos of his family, his boyfriend had taken it in stride. The lack of money growing up, his birth mom being black, none of it mattered to Neil, or he said it hadn’t.

  Back when Colby had first come out and started dating guys, he’d learned that some of the men wanted him only because he was different or they didn’t want him at all because of that difference. He fucking hated that the color of his skin was seen as a novelty, or a circus attraction instead of guys looking at who he really was. Then his dates would say shit about black people, trashing them but thinking he’d not be upset. A few of the guys he’d slept with had actually told him the only reason they dated him was to see the color of his dick since his mom was black and his dad was white.

  It pissed him off that he was treated like a sideshow freak all because of the color of his skin. Neil had accepted him straight off, never once asking about his color, or if he was black or white, or Mexican or any other race or culture. Neil hadn’t cared and never made him feel less than. Not once had Neil breathed a derogatory word about black people. He’d never once expected Colby to feel shame that his mom was black. And that was one of the reasons Colby had fallen so hard so fast. Their relationship had felt too perfect, and he guessed it had been. Maybe the whole thing had been a fantasy with Neil. Just a made up fairytale that had meant nothing to his ex, and that’s why he hadn’t been an ass about Colby’s skin color.

  After almost getting no sleep, Colby went to the apartment the next morning and packed his clothes, boxing them up and putting them in the trunk of his car. He drove back to the cheap motel he’d crashed at the night before and unloaded his trunk. Depression threatened, but he wouldn’t go there. On his next trip to the apartment, he ran into Deshaun.

  “Hey, listen, about last night.” Deshaun adjusted from one leg to the other, his gaze on the ground.

  Anger filled Colby, making him want to lash out and beat the hell out of the fucker, but he held back. Deshaun didn’t say anything for almost a full minute and Colby was done. He was done playing second fiddle to an asshole whom he thought was a nice guy. He was tired of being cheated on, looked over, and made to feel less than other guys. Neil’s cheating was so much worse than any of the other humiliating things that had happened to him since he’d started to date. Deshaun standing in front of him, waiting for him to say something was icing on the cake.

  Fuck you, fuck Neil, and fuck this shit, was what he wanted to say. Instead, he brushed past Deshaun and entered his apartment, shutting and locking the door, keeping Deshaun out.

  Colby slid down the wall and stayed on the floor for a few minutes to catch his breath. He could hear Deshaun’s footsteps heading away and that got Colby up off the floor. Never again would he play the fool. Neil and Deshaun had abused his trust, but he would be sharper next time. No one would ever make him feel this way again.

  Thank God his name wasn’t on the lease or any other paperwork associated with Neil. It could be a clean break, and he wouldn’t have to suffer through splitting their assets. He just needed a place to crash while he got his shit together. Hell, he would never have to lay his eyes on Neil again, and that was something to be thankful for.

  Colby walked into work fifteen minutes late, but his boss didn’t mind since he’d been traveling so much and working so hard. Closing a major deal with a huge customer had given him a little breathing room. He was set to head back to San Diego for work in a few weeks, and he would have to find a place for his things before he left. During his lunch break he searched for apartments, finding a less than perfect place located between the airport and his office. It would do for the next six months, even if he had to sleep with earplugs because his neighbors were too loud. Hell, anything was better than having to live with Neil and be forced to put up with his fucking around.

  Chapter Four

  The weeks passed without a word from Channing. Seth called once, then again. He thought nothing of the silence until one night as he stared at his phone, wishing it would ring, he counted the calls he made and the texts he’d written, realizing he’d called six times and texted twelve without any response from Channing. He knew his coach was in a bad spot, and he was still a student, technically, but he wished Channing would send some sort of note. As the days ticked by, his anger grew, twisting into sadness, and slipping into depression. Most days he wanted to curl into a ball and cry.

  Why didn’t Channing want him? Surely he’d made some sort of mistake, messed up and pissed Channing off. If only he could go back and fix it, then maybe Channing would give him another chance.

  D-day, otherwise known as draft day, was coming and he feared not making any team. He could be bypassed easily. Just because he’d done well in college didn’t mean jack shit to NFL teams. There were hundreds of eligible guys who could toss a football. This year’s college graduates, last year’s, next year’s, plus all of the other guys playing in the NFL, the Canadian leagues, teams in Austria, Japan, Mexico, Sweden, and even Israel or any number of other countries where they’d picked up the sport. The chances were slim that any NFL team would actually want him, so he was trying not to make too big of a deal of the draft.


  His parents had asked if he’d wanted to come home, and he almost had gone to see them, but he still had school to think about and money was tight. Getting a plane ticket to fly to his parents’ house for one weekend would cost too much, and he just didn’t have the extra cash to blow on such a short trip. His dad said they could travel to see him, but again the cost would be too much, plus he had some hope Channing would stop by to celebrate the draft with him. If Channing came over, he wouldn’t want anyone else at his place. In the end, he’d told his dad to stay at home, stating it wasn’t even guaranteed that he’d be drafted. Sure, he was ranked, but anything could happen. A lot of guys were ranked and there were only two-hundred and fifty-four spots to be filled this year. Ten quarterbacks were either ranked above him or close enough to count, and that freaked him out. There were so many guys better than he, and the chance of him getting on a team was too small for him to count on making it.

  Early on the Thursday morning that was Draft Day, Seth stayed in bed. The sky pinked up, the edges of the sunrise turning orange behind the clouds before everything faded to blue as he hid from reality. He could have gotten up, went out and enjoy the spectacle. Maybe he could have participated by going for a jog. Instead, he watched the world, wondering if he would be a spectator for the rest of his life or would he be allowed into the game. Would he be watched like the sun, on display, revered, talked about, worshiped even or would he be a blade of grass, never even noticed?

  He drew in a deep breath, pushing away the scattered feelings as he grabbed his phone, checking to see if Channing had called. There wasn’t anything from his lover…nothing. When his bladder started aching, he rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. After he finished, he stared at himself in the mirror, disgusted by his need to have Channing’s approval. Why couldn’t he stand on his own without having to have Channing be by his side? There wasn’t a good answer, because he feared that maybe he wasn’t strong enough. Channing had been such a huge part of his life for so long that maybe he’d become too dependent on the man.

  When the draft began, he still hadn’t heard from Channing. He could have gone to the coliseum in Chicago where the action was taking place, but that took money he didn’t have.

  His nerves were shot and his anger high as he paced the small den in his apartment. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of his life, but he was alone and sad. His life certainly was nothing like what a football hero who deserved to be on an NFL team should be.

  The announcers came on and were talking crap as Seth settled on the edge of the couch, palming a football like it was a life preserver and he was stuck in the open ocean with waves crashing over his head. It all seemed so chaotic, the names, the teams, the players being called. First pick went to a guy from a school up north, the second some dude in California, and down the row they went, third, fourth and so on. Names were said—first team names, then the names of players. His mouth was slightly open as he sucked in air, watching guys from other college teams make the list, just not him. Two quarterbacks had been called, both to teams on the east coast, both close enough he could visit Channing, but he hadn’t made the cut. Then the first round was over, and they took a break. Seth took a break too. He went for a walk around the block and tried not to run when he feared they’d started up again. When he stepped into his apartment, he heard the second round begin.

  He was desperate and angry, worried that he wouldn’t make any team, and Channing wasn’t by his side to make him feel better. He wished his mom and dad had traveled to see him or maybe that he’d gone home. Really, him being drafted to any team was a long shot. Few guys who actually made it on a team even stuck it out for more than a year or two. Playing in the NFL was tough. The first round guys were usually good for five years. Second round picks were in it for four or so. After that, the money and the years guaranteed dropped off to almost nothing. Some guys were lifers, but football was hard on the body, and even if they wanted to stay in the game, injuries had a way of taking everything.

  Having his parents with him may have given him something to do other than obsess about Channing, but if his name wasn’t called he would want to be alone. Of course this would go on for a long time. The teams had to be given time to make deals. Today’s activities would end soon so the owners and coaches could regroup.

  Why the heck had he made so many decisions this year based on what Channing wanted? Anger filled him as Channing’s lack of support became even more hard to deal with. He could be at home where his mom would make her special hot cocoa, maybe some comfort food to help him get over the fact that no one wanted him. He was silly for thinking he could make it on a team. Only the best ever made it in the NFL and he obviously wasn’t one of the best.

  Then he heard it.

  His name!

  Chills raced over his shoulders and down his back. Goose bumps spread in an instant. Dizziness almost made him black out but he didn’t pass out as he shook his head. His name. His fucking name. “Seth Mercer.” That’s what the announcer had said.

  He jumped up, the ball flying from his hands. “Holy shit, I’m on a team.” He was going to California and coach Harris would be so far away. A sliver of relief slid through Seth, working its way from his head to his heart and through his blood, spreading and rolling over him. He drew in a deep breath, tasting freedom for the first time in months.

  Seth lowered to the couch, exhaling loudly. Why did he feel relief—freedom—a chance to escape? He loved Channing, at least he thought he did. But Channing was never around. Maybe if they weren’t physically close, like in the same city or state, he couldn’t be upset when days and weeks went by without holding Channing in his arms. He would be in California and Channing would be here in Florida, an entire country separating them. They could pretend they had something special, and then instead of him knowing Channing wasn’t as into him as he was into Channing, he could tell himself it was the miles and miles of distance, not something he did or said that kept them from each other.

  The phone rang and he answered, hating himself a little for hoping it was Channing. Of course it wasn’t.

  “Seth, it’s your dad. I heard. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Dad, thanks.” Seth choked up, tears streaming down his face. He did it. He made it onto an NFL team. His mom got on the phone and his tears grew even harder.

  “I always knew you’d be a football player,” his mom said.

  “Mom,” Seth choked out. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

  “Baby, we love you. I know you’ll be busy this summer. Maybe we can come out to see you once you’re settled in San Diego.”

  His phone beeped because he had another call. He didn’t want to hurry his mom, but the person calling could be Channing.

  “That would be great. Thank you, mom. Tell dad that I’ll send him all the information once I get something.”

  “Sure baby, I will. It sounds like you’re getting more calls so I won’t keep you. I’m just so happy for you. We’ll talk later.”

  He hung up, realizing that he’d missed the call. He checked the list of recent calls and saw it wasn’t Channing. After grabbing his computer, he opened his email, looking for something from the draft. He found the email and read through the information. His hands were shaking and his mind spinning. He had to read the email three times to understand everything. It was a dream come true and he couldn’t wait to start.

  The rest of his evening was spent fielding calls from friends and former teammates. A couple of guys he knew from playing college ball who’d already joined NFL teams called to harass him, joking about how hard he would have it. After a few hours of chatting with friends, he realized he hadn’t eaten all day so he ordered a pizza. He sat on his couch all alone and drank a beer with his dinner, wishing like hell Channing would at least text him.

  That night as he lay alone in bed, Seth obsessed about Channing. He could call the man, but why did he always have to be the one to push their relationship along? He’d
been the one to show up at Channing’s after New Year’s day. He’d changed everything and adjusted his life to suit Channing, but why? God, he hated this, hated caring so much, hated that he hated himself for caring. Finally, when he couldn’t stand the tossing and turning, the staring at the ceiling as if there were any answers up there, he pushed the covers to the floor and screamed, not caring if he woke his neighbors. He needed Channing and was going to call him.

  Seth reached for his cell and tapped the home button, praying that Channing’s number was amongst the few listed on his flash screen who’d called while he’d tried to sleep, but Channing hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t tried to contact him. Seth stared at his phone, pulling up Channing’s number before opening another app to distract himself, then going back to his phone app and looking at the numbers that would connect him to Channing. After a few minutes he tossed the device to the floor and rolled to his side, facing away from where his phone lay on the ground.

  The hours squeaked by and turned into days. Still Channing didn’t call, text, or email. Seth waited three more days, and only after he’d sent a text with a question mark did he receive a note from Channing stating that he wanted to wait until Seth was finished with finals before they celebrated. He wasn’t happy with Channing’s response, but he understood, kind of but not really.

  Days turned to weeks again and then he was graduating from college. His mom and dad surprised him by driving in. They hugged him over and over again. Their happiness was contagious and he found himself laughing with them as they stayed up way too late chatting about life and school and football, but mostly football. He prayed Channing didn’t pick this weekend to get in contact, because explaining to his parents that he was gay and sleeping with his coach would be difficult. All of the promises Channing had made seemed to be unreal or at least a far flung version of the truth, so far removed from what really happened that he could no longer trust the man. He really didn’t know what to believe except that he would be gone from this state soon and Channing would no longer be an option.