The Locker Room

by Amy Lane

  Suddenly, everything that had been warm under his skin ran cold.

  “Chris…,” he said, softly, and Chris turned to him, his goofy smile askew, his pale face flushed with the second drink, and his eyes unfocused and wandering.

  “I… I hadnt had any.I promised you I wouldnt, right?” he said back.“But… but last time, I got on the plane, and it hurt so bad… it hurt so bad… and I asked for some Scotch, and it didnt hurt quite so bad anymore.” That skewed smile twisted, grew bitter.“So I kept drinking. Cliff had to peel me off the floor when the car got me home. I figured….” He looked away, and Xander saw two boozy tears trickling down the side of his nose, and his entire stomach cramped, but not with laughter.

  “I figured Id start early this time.Maybe… maybe Id be walk- able by the time the plane got there, you know?”

  Xander held out his arms, and Chris burrowed into them, weeping softly. Xander clutched him to his chest and wept, too, without even the alcohol as an excuse.

  Chris was a little better in the car, but he reached automatically for his hip flask as they pulled off of Highway 5 onto the airport loop. Xander snatched it from his hand, rolled the window down and threw it out of the car onto the farmland that flanked the road. He grabbed Chriss hand then, and didnt yell, and didnt nag, but he held that hand while it trembled in his, then sweated, then clutched.

  They pulled up to the curb, and Tim got out to get the bags, and Xander finally had words.

  “I forget,” he said softly. “Youre so… you put on such a good face.Im the weak one;youre the one who holds me together. You cant let me forget again, Chris.Youve got to let me hold you together. Please?”

  Chris nodded, turning his face away, and Xander seized his chin and pulled him back, kissing him soundly, and without reservations, tasting salt and a little bit of vodka.

  “Anything. Do you hear me?We can survive anything.”

  Chris passed his hand over his face and Xander pulled it away.

  “I cant believe you thought I was the strong one,” Chris said quietly, his voice broken.“I cant believe you didnt know it was you. I always had someone, Xan. You? You picked someone to be with when you were fourteen, and you made us family.Youve got the strongest heart Ive ever known. Im just—” A small sob, and Xander knew it was shame and didnt know how to make his forgiveness, his complete acceptance any clearer.“Im just so proud you picked me to be in it.”

  Xander nodded, and kissed him again, and said, “Just… drink soda on the plane, okay?They dont carry anything decent in first class anyway.”

  Chris choked on a laugh and nodded his head. One more kiss, and he was out of the car, and gone.

  XANDER understood the drinking. He did. Chris went back to Denver, and Xanders heart became a well-oiled machine with one function. The only function.

  Get the fucking ball down the fucking court and into the fucking net.

  It became his watchword, his mantra. The team would scream it as he minded a series of ball-picks that would do a chess grandmaster proud in terms of strategy. Every now and then he would get the ball and just run with it, and the chant would follow him as he charged for the basket, and, yes, usually made the goal.

  He had a shooting percentage of fifty-nine percent. And even Coach had to bow before that, and even Coach joined in the mantra.

  Karcek had the ball? There was a play in motion? Then the cameras would be whirring and the newscasters would smirk and all of Sacramento was alight with glee as Karcek was told to:

  Get the fucking ball down the fucking court!!! (Xander usually added the “and into the fucking net” part himself.)

  The audience didnt get sound, but there wasnt a sports fan out there who couldnt read lips, who hadnt been looking for that particular power word since sports had first made it to television.

  It made the emotion human, and real, and Xander made it his own.

  Get the fucking ball down the fucking court and into the fucking net!

  Xander stopped giving away all of his shots; he started taking a few for himself. He never played selfishly—not once was he accused of that—but… but… Chris wasnt there. Chris wasnt there to take the ball from him.Chris wasnt there to follow him through. He trusted the team, because theyd been doing what he told them to, but with Chris not there….

  It just wasnt any fun to share the shot, if Chris couldnt take it instead.

  Sacramento was eleven games up. They were playoff-bound, and probably had been since December.Xanders season was officially going into June, goddammit, but that didnt mean he didnt have to play the last game of the regular season, same as Chris.

  Xander played his at San Antonio, on the tail end of a three-game road trip, and Chris played his at home. Xander got back to the hotel in time to watch Colorado—one game out of playoff position—almost take it in the teeth to Boston.

  “Aww, fuck,” Xander muttered. “Chris, goddammit, I know you could have made that last threepointer!”

  Chriss playing had been off since March—since the NCAA break, when Xander had caught him spiking his orange juice with vodka.

  Chris hadnt missed his morning phone calls (although he looked crappier and crappier during them), and Xander would have known if hed been playing drunk, but that didnt keep worry from being a constant roil in his stomach.

  Hed taken to calling Cliff at night, before bed, just to check on him.

  “Hey, Cliff, how you doing?”

  “Look, man—I think hes fine. But you know?Hes got his own room.As long as he doesnt stain the comforter or mess up the curtains, he could be doing Jack, blow, and heroin in there, right?”

  (Oh Jesus. Thanks a lot, you bastard.)“Is he?”

  “No, Jesus, Xander, of course not!Or at least Im sure about everything but the Jack. Why dont you call him yourself?”

  “Because Im texting him while were talking,and his spellings better than this, dammit!”

  (Sigh.)“Look, Xan, Im not… Im not going to make any assumptions here about you two, so just tell me if Im stepping over the line here.But… my wife. If I didnt get to see her almost every night, Id be drinking too.If she wasnt here when I got back from a road trip, or if she didnt get to come with me sometimes—man, I would fucking lose it. You guys… you were… you know—”

  “Married. Say it. Yeah. For real. We were married for almost twelve years, and yeah.Thats exactly what this is, Cliff, and hes not doing well, and were going to figure it out at the break, but right now, I just want to know hes okay!”

  To his credit, Cliff remained exactly the same after that conversation—the same good friend theyd had in college, the same guy who helped Xander keep an eye on Chris as he struggled to hold it together. Xander was grateful for him. Xander and Chris had stood up with Cliff for his wedding, and now it felt like Cliff was standing up with them for their marriage, and that meant something.

  Between Xander on the phone and Cliff in real life, they managed to hide the alcohol, keep Chris out of the bars as much as possible, and generally help him hold it together for the last hectic, visit-less, six weeks of the season.

  So Xander watched Chris play the last game of the season with a heart twisted with different wants. He wanted to see Chris play well, God, did he want to see Chris play well. He remembered that first magical game when they were kids, and the way the beautiful boy seemed to move with the ball, seemed to fly with it, seemed to make it magic.Even though Chris didnt look as golden when they werent on the court together, Xander could still see the vestiges of that magic boy—he hoped he always would.

  But God, did he want Chris home. Win this game, Denver went into the playoffs, and Chris was gone for another six weeks. (Well, there would be some time off in between, one week, at the very least, between the last game and playoff season, but still.) Lose this game, and Chris was home, cheering Xander on at the sidelines.

  In the end, Xander liked to think his better nature won. Chris finally landed a three-pointer, the buzzer rang, and Denver was in the pla
yoffs, and Xander was waiting to getChriss text that said theyd meet at home.

  The text never came.

  Two hours after the final press conference, after tryingChriss phone about six hundred times, Xander was on the phone to Cliff.

  “Cliff, hey—”

  “Xan, I swear, he got out of the showers, dressed, and said he was on his way to the airport.”

  Denver was playing at home—it was maybe forty-five minutes to the airport from the arena, and Xanders stomach went cold, and then the entire rest of him, down to his numb fingertips and his icy lips.

  “He w as okay, right?I mean, you know….”

  Cliff grunted.“I know he still carries a hip flask, man, but I dont think hes used it.”

  Xander swore.“What was he driving? Im going to call him one more time, and then Im calling the cops.”

  Xander was cut short as the phone in the hotel rang.

  “Wait a sec, maybe this is him.” Xander balanced a phone on each ear, and waited for Chriss voice on the other line.

  It wasnt Chris; it was a woman from the press. She wanted a quote.

  “A quote on what?”

  “Christian Edwards—hes just been life-flighted off the freeway to a Denver hospital.The paramedics say hes lucky to be breathing.”

  A quote?“Oh Jesus. Holy fucking God. Chris.Wheres he going? Jesus.Ive got to call his family… oh, Jesus, Cliff, did you hear? Lady, wheres he going?I dont give a shit about your quote, just tell me about Chris!Wheres he going? I dont give a shit! Cmon, bitch, youre the one with the answers!Wheres he fucking going!”

  The hotel phone exploded against the wall, and Xander was left with Cliffs panicky voice on the other end of the line.

  “Just get a plane out here, Xander. You get the plane out here, Ill be there to take you to him, got it?”

  “Oh Jesus.”

  “Xander, do you got it?”

  Xander fought to breathe, fought to see, fought to think. His vision was dark, pewter gray, like that first night, when the shining magic boy had played some ball with him, talked to him, joked with him, took him home, took his heart—

  Xander had a sudden vision of that shining boy, fourteen, slender, flashing smile, dark eyes all mischief, and then he saw him, clavicles and knees, bony elbows, narrow jaw, lying in a hospital bed, broken and alone.

  Cliff was yelling at him from the other end of the phone, and he hadnt taken a breath in too long.

  He pulled in air, and again, and again and again, and then, when he could see the room, he said faintly, “I got it, Cliff. Ill let you know when I get there.”

  He was wearing jeans and tennis shoes and a hooded sweatshirt, with his wallet in his pocket. He left everything else in the hotel room, and didnt make another phone call, just turned around with his wallet in his pocket and walked out, looking for Wi-Fi and the airline on his phone so he could buy his tickets before he got to the airport.

  When hed done that, he called Mandy, and told her and Audrey, and had them go in and take care of Penny when she fell completely the fuck apart. While Mandy comforted her, he gave Audrey instructions to have her packed, and then the number for the town car, and instructions for it to go and get Andi and Jed first.Then he hung up, glad as hed never been for his little “harem” of women to take care ofChriss little sister for him when he couldnt.

  Then he called Chriss number, the same number Chris had when they were kids, and the same old yellow wall phone, with a cord and everything, as well.

  He told his family that Chris was in the hospital, and that they had tickets waiting at the airport, and that hed be there, because nothing could keep him away from their angel, his shining magic boy, and they put their faith in him as no one had in his life.

  Xander had grown up with nothing. Food, clothes, a place to sleep—theyd all been iffy propositions for a lot of years. His profession had brought him wealth, and he had appreciated it—he loved his house and his dogs. He enjoyed his television, the basketball court, the fact that he could pay Lucia to make him food he was not good at making himself. But never in his life had he appreciated his money as much as when he walked up to the counter at the airline and plonked down a useless piece of plastic, and that thing took him to see Chris, and brought their family too.

  WHEN he got to Denver, Cliff was waiting at the airport for him, with a hospital name and an update, and a grim, pursed mouth. His wife was in the front of the car when Xander got outside into the chill, thin Colorado air, but she stood up without a word and moved to the back of the Lexus when Xander got there.

  “Youve got longer legs,” she said quietly, her full mouth tu rned down for probably the only time Xander had seen her. Her makeup was done, and she was finely dressed in a black pantsuit, but she was missing her trademark earrings, and her mouth was tight and tense. Even Alicia, it seemed, had fallen in love with his boy.“Now put it into gear, Clifford, they dont know when hes coming out of surgery.”

  “Surgery?” Xander asked, waiting for the details. When Cliff was done giving them, Xander had to make him pull over to the side so he could throw up.

  Alicia handed him a bottle of water wordlessly from the back when he was done, and he rinsed and spit, and then came a little box of breath mints. Cliff pulled the Lexus into traffic, and Xander looked behind him gratefully.

  Alicia gave a thin smile. “If it was Cliff, Id need sedation.” “Dammit, Cliff!” Xander started, but Alicia cut him off. “Oh, honey—I figured it out a long time before Clifford did.

  Nobody pines the way Chris was pining for just his „bro, right, Clifford?” “ Right,honey,” Cliff said, so automatically that Xander felt a surprised, rusty chuckle rattling his throat.

  Alicia had been called a ball-buster by most of the NBA. People said she was a bitch, and Clifford was P-Whipped, and her name was used as a cautionary tale among players and fans alike when they were warning against the wiles of the opposite sex.

  But one look behind him and the note of tenderness in her voice as she said, “I knew youd agree, Cliff,” made Xander think that his buddy was a lucky man.

  THE family had made it there before him—Xander figured they would. Penny had dragged Mandy along, and the two girls were clenching white hands, as Jed and Andi sat together on a little couch in the private surgery waiting room.

  As Xander walked in, he was suddenly assaulted by Cliffs words in the car, and the sweet little moment between Cliff and his wife was forgotten.

  “Is he… his spine? His head?” Oh God.Spinal injuries… brain damage… all of it came back, and Xander grabbed the doorframe, hard, because if he keeled over, there wasnt a soul in this room who could catch him.

  “Theyre fine,” Andi said, coming up to him and putting her shoulder underneath his arm.He wanted to laugh at the idea that shed be able to support his weight, but he couldnt. It was too close to the truth, because his knees almost buckled.

  “Fine?” He looked at Andi, because her face was still tight and stoic with worry. Chris was obviously not fine.

  “Hes got some internal injuries,” Andi said, blinking hard. “They were able to stop the bleeding in his kidneys, and they had to remove his spleen, but its… its his legs. Thats why they thought there might be spinal damage. He whacked his head pretty hard, and while they were testing his reflexes, there wasnt any response, but its because his legs were—” She stifled a sob, and Jeds arm came around Xanders body as he took Xans other side. Xander shook them off gently, and took their elbows to lead them back to the couch. He was grown.Theyd taken care of him when hed had no one—he could be their strength now.

  “Tell me,” he said gently, when Andi was weeping softly on her husbands ragged denim jacket.

  “His legs were crushed,” Jed said brokenly. “Hed punctured his main arteries in a couple of places, and theyre trying to get them repaired now.When theyre done with that, theyre going to start to put them back together—pins, sutures, Xander, its going to be a mess. Its going to be a fucking mess, man. My son
—” Jed swallowed. “My son will live, but they might have to take his legs.And if they dont, then walking again… its going to be… its going to be a long, hard haul, you know?”

  Xander nodded. He knew.“Well,” he said with a swallow, “were just going to have to help him, right? Chris?Hell bounce back. As long as were there to catch him, hell bounce back.” Xander nodded positively, and Andi broke into sobs and wrapped her arms around his neck and wept until her body gave out. Jed pulled her back against his chest and gave Xander a watery smile.

  “See,” he said, as though Xander had said something profound. “You two kids… it was like he found you, and it was the whole of his heart, you know? Even before we figured out you were in love, we just knew.Youd be there for each other. You couldnt let him down, Xander.Its not in you.”

  Xander swallowed hard, thinking of third home game of the month, thinking about all the times he threatened to quit but didnt, thinking about what would have happened if hed simply screamed, “Were gay, asshole!Do something about it!” to their coach, in front of the team, and then let the team do something about it.

  “I dont want it to be,” Xander said roughly, and then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Leo, followed by two state troopers, and his stomach flipped over.

  He hadnt even asked if there had been someone else involved. He hadnt even thought of blood alcohol levels. Oh God… what if there was… what if Chris had killed someone? What if hed been drunk? Visions of Chris recovering, just to go to prison and be taken from him for a helluva a lot longer than six weeks wereenough to make Xanders stomach just scream in protest, but hed just told Chriss father that he wasnt going to let anyone down again. He had to walk across that floor and find out.

  He just had to.

  For a man who ran miles and miles a day, either on the court or around his track, it was the longest walk hed ever had to make.

  “Leo?” he asked, feeling his skin breaking out in hot and clammy patches.“Have you heard anything?”