Catching Chance

by M. E. Parker

  I stood outside and took a deep breath. I knew there were plenty of guys in there that would have my back, but I was unsure about the rest of the team. I’d already decided I was going to be the bigger person and apologize to Daryl White for punching him in the face. Andy was right, I shouldn’t have done it. I should have stood up for myself and for Andy with words, not my fists. I’d only punched one other person in my life. When I looked back, I realized I was more pissed at myself than I was at John or Daryl. I rested my head against the wall and took in a deep breath. Just do it. Go in. Get it over with. I pushed myself off the wall and walked through the doors.

  Lennox and Levi saw me first and started a slow clap. I looked around as most of the rest of the guys began to join in until the slow clap erupted into applause and cheers. I was sure my face was bright red as, one by one, almost everyone approached me with some kind of words of support, to shake my hand, or offer a pat on the back. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it wasn’t that.

  Coach interrupted the chaos. “Take a seat and listen up. We have a practice to get to.”

  I sat down next to Travis and began to unlace my shoes while I listened to Coach. “I’m only going to say this once. There’s no doubt in my mind that there are still some football programs and coaches out there who ignore, put up with, or even encourage homophobic slurs and behaviors. We’re not one of those programs. I’m not one of those coaches. I’m warning each and every one of you—I have a zero tolerance policy on this. Wyrick did a courageous thing yesterday and I expect full support from his teammates. So, if anyone has a problem with that, the time to speak up is right now.” He paused and looked around the room.

  My face heated again. Jesus. Really? Is this necessary? I thought, as I heard Daryl White clear his throat. “I got a problem with it. I don’t think I should have to shower with a faggot.” I felt sick to my stomach and began to wonder how many of the guys felt that way.

  Travis raised his hand and said, “Coach, I don’t think I should have to shower with a fat, dumb hillbilly with a pencil dick.” He burst out laughing. Travis’s laughter must have been contagious because the rest of the locker room filled with laughter.

  “Shut the fuck up James. You’re probably a cocksucker just like him,” Daryl responded with a red face. Someone hurled a plastic water bottle at Daryl from across the room.

  I was surprised when I looked up to see that it was Daryl’s buddy Josh. “Don’t be such a dick, Moose.”

  “Enough!” Coach’s voice boomed through the locker room. The room got quiet. He took a few steps toward Daryl. “Boy, I’m not sure if you’re stupid or stubborn. Did you or did you not just hear me say no homophobic slurs and zero tolerance? You’re suspended, starting now. Get out of my locker room.”

  Daryl’s face was red. “What do you mean, suspended?”

  “I mean suspended until I discuss your actions with the Athletic Director and we determine whether you sit out for the first three games or if you’re off the team all together.”

  “Don’t bother. I ain’t playin’ with a bunch of faggots anyway. I quit,” Daryl said, slamming his locker shut.

  Coach shook his head as he watched Daryl storm out of the locker room. “No, please don’t quit,” he deadpanned after Daryl had left the room. He looked around the room and yelled, “Anyone else?” The room was silent. “I need an answer. Anyone else?”

  The team responded in unison with, “No, Coach.”

  Practice was uneventful. I tried to shake off what had happened with Daryl. I mostly managed to concentrate on the plays and drills Coach had us running, but when we got back to the locker room, it was still on my mind. I didn’t shower. I just took off my gear, threw on a t-shirt, and headed out of the stadium to my truck. I wasn’t sure if I was being paranoid, but I felt like there were a few guys who usually made a point to speak to me who were intentionally avoiding me. I was also mad at myself for not showering after practice. You’re being stupid. It could have been a lot worse. Way worse.

  I sighed as I pulled up in front of Andy’s building. I wondered if I was going to feel that way for the rest of my life. I wondered if I was always going to question whether people were silently judging me. My anxiety disappeared as soon as I walked into Andy’s apartment. It was probably a combination of the smell of something delicious that Andy was cooking and the fact that he met me at the door with a hug and a kiss.

  “How was it?” he asked with worry in his eyes.

  “Not nearly as rough as I thought it would be.”

  He wrapped his arms around me again. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes. And sweaty. I need a shower.”

  He grinned. “I like you sweaty.”

  “That’s gross. And sort of hot at the same time,” Cam called from the living room. “I’m hungry, just in case you were wondering.”

  “Give me five or ten minutes to shower?” I called towards Cam, who ignored me.

  Andy looked at me. “I want to hear about practice.”

  I nodded. “Let me go shower. Can we ask Ben and Jordy for dinner? Is there enough? I’d rather tell everyone at once. I need advice.”

  Andy smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll go get them. I have enough for twenty people.”

  After I stepped in the shower, I let out a breath as the warm water poured over me. Andy brought me peace. Even if I had to do a thousand interviews. Even if I had to hear a guy like Daryl White call me a faggot every day. Even if half the world was disgusted by who I was—I didn’t care. Andy was worth it. I loved him. I felt fully loved. Those were things I’d never felt before. I also felt fully accepted by his friends. My friends, I thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Andy

  It was a Sunday night. Cam, Chance, and I had just finished having Chinese take-out for dinner. I was lying down on the couch with my feet stretched out across Chance’s lap. Cam was sitting in the chair opposite us. Chance was frowning at his laptop. Cam was frowning at his iPad. Two weeks had passed since Chance had come out and I was completely head over heels in love with him. I gently kicked his leg.

  “What are you frowning at?”

  “Nothing. Today’s the last day to apply for campus housing. I guess I’ll just reapply for my same dorm room. I’m never there anyway,” he said with a shrug.

  I looked over at Cam, who’d looked up from his iPad. “Wait. Don’t you already live here? Because I’ve totally been telling people that my roommate is the quarterback.”

  Chance laughed. “I know I’m here all the time, but I don’t technically live here.”

  Cam rolled his eyes. “What does that mean?”

  Chance shrugged. “I don’t know. I still have my dorm room. My stuff’s still there.”

  I gently nudged his leg with my foot. “Why?”

  “Why, what?” He looked at me.

  I grinned at him. “Why don’t you technically live here?”

  He laughed. “Oh my god, monkey, are you asking me to move in with you?”

  I felt my cheeks heat up. “Well, it seems stupid for you to pay for a dorm room when you’re here all the time anyway.”

  Chance put his hand over his heart. “This is so romantic,” he said sarcastically.

  I laughed. “I’m so sorry. Chance, would you do me the honor of moving in with me?”

  “It’s a little sudden, don’t you think?” he joked.

  I kicked him in the leg. “Fine. Don’t move in. Waste your money.” He tickled the bottom of my foot and I yelped. “Cut it out.”

  “Come here, monkey,” he said, grabbing my hand. I sat up and he leaned over and kissed me. “Of course I want to move in with you.”

  Cameron squealed. “Oh my god, you and Andy are going to get married and have a bunch of gay babies.”

  I settled back down on the couch. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. The last two weeks had been incredible. Chance and I had spent every second together we could. We met for lunch between classes. He held my han
d when we walked across campus together. We’d been to Wild Orchid a couple of times and I’d even convinced him to dance with me once or twice. I felt like I was dreaming. We couldn’t really go anywhere without someone coming up to us wanting a selfie, or just wanting to offer Chance some words of support. I was still getting used to it.

  Every now and then I’d notice someone giving us a disgusted look, but I was used to that. It didn’t bother me anymore.

  I was so damn proud of him. He was taking it all really well. When he’d come home from his first football practice, I could tell he was freaking out. When he told us all that night that he’d be doing a press conference the next day, I was freaking out a bit myself. But after the four of us helped him write a short statement to read aloud at the press conference, I felt better. As long as I lived, I would never forget watching that press conference.

  My heart had been bursting with pride when I stood in the back of that press room, watching him sit there so confidently. The index card that I’d given him was in his hand, but he was not reading from it.

  “I look forward to a day when there will be no need to call a press conference for a football player who decides to come out. I’m gay. There’s no big news here. I came out because I was tired of hiding and I wanted to live my truth. My love of football has not changed. My devotion to my team has not changed. I’m healthy. Spring Practice has just started. I’m looking forward to next season. Like I said, no news. But if my being here will make it easier for other LGBTQ athletes, I’m happy to answer your questions.”

  I was amazed at how open and honest he was as he answered their questions. He wasn’t nervous, he was confident the entire time. He didn’t flinch once, until the last question came …

  “How do your parents feel about your coming out?”

  “My mother has been super supportive. She accepts me completely.”

  “Your father?” Someone else shouted.

  I watched Chance’s face turn red for the first time.

  “How did he respond to your coming out?” Another reporter shouted. I wanted to go punch him in the face.

  Thank god Coach Mayes stepped in. I wanted to go kiss him. “He already answered that question. Does anyone have any questions about football? If not, I have a player that needs to get back to class.” The last thing Chance needed was to read an article about his homophobic father not accepting him.

  Chance’s voice startled me out of my thoughts but I hadn’t heard what he’d said. He tapped my leg, “Hey, where’d you go?”

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

  “Maybe I’ll go ahead and move my stuff this weekend. Technically I have until the end of the semester though, so there’s no rush.”

  I smiled at him. “No, let’s go ahead and do it. The sooner the better.”

  “You two are disgusting. You do realize you’ve been living together for months now,” Cam said, just as there was a knock at the door. Cam stood up. “I’ll get it. You two try not to start fucking while I’m gone.”

  We both laughed as he made his way to the door. The truth was, we probably would have been fucking if Cam hadn’t been home. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong apartment.” I heard Cam say. “Did anyone order a priest?” he called back to us. I wondered what he was talking about until I saw Chance’s face turn white just as I heard Pastor Wyrick’s voice.

  “Actually, I’m looking for Chance. Chance Wyrick. Is he here?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Chance

  Andy jumped up as soon as I heard my father's voice. I was still frozen on the couch. Cam was standing in the doorway scratching the back of his head.

  “Well, actually he’s … um …” Cam looked back at me. His eyes said, What the fuck do you want me to do here?

  I stood up. “I’m here, Dad.”

  Cam opened the door wider as I walked across the room. Dad was wearing his black suit and collar. He must have come straight from church, I thought. I knew I’d have to face him eventually, but I never thought he’d show up at Andy’s apartment.

  “Your mother told me I could find you here.” He waved at Andy and offered him a small smile. “Hi, Andy.”

  Andy cleared his throat. “Would you like to come in?”

  He took a few steps into the apartment. “Wow,” he said looking around. “This is a beautiful apartment.”

  “It’s a … all Cam … Sorry, this is Cameron Ansley, my roommate. Cameron, this is Pastor Wyrick, Chance’s father,” Andy said.

  My father nodded and extended his hand to Cam as a surprisingly genuine smile crossed his face, “It’s nice to meet you, Cameron.”

  Cam warily shook his hand with a fake smile plastered across his face. “You too, I think.” I couldn't help but smile at Cam as he sized up my father. I could tell he was going into protection mode.

  “I was hoping you might have a minute to talk,” my father said.

  “Sure,” I replied, not sure at all that I wanted to hear what he had to say.

  “We were just about to head across the hall to Ben and Jordy’s,” Cam lied and looked at me. “I’ll go on now, unless of course, you’d like me to wait for you?”

  I smiled and patted Cam on the shoulder. “Thanks Cam, you can go ahead.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

  I nodded and tried to reassure him with a smile. “I’m sure. Thanks, Cam.”

  “I can go too,” Andy said. But he didn’t make a move to follow Cam out the door.

  I grabbed his hand. “No. Stay.” I looked at my father, daring him to question me. Whatever he had to say, he could say in front of Andy. I was done worrying about what he wanted.

  He offered a small smile and nodded. Andy spoke up. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “Sure,” my father said as he stood awkwardly in the entryway. “It looks like we have lemonade, beer, or water to offer,” he called from the kitchen.

  I was surprised when he replied, “Actually, a beer sounds nice.”

  A few minutes later, the three of us were sitting at the kitchen table, Andy and me on one side and my father on the other. I nervously picked at the label on my bottle of beer.

  “Umm … I’m not sure where to start,” my father said.

  When neither Andy nor I responded, he cleared his throat. “I watched your press conference a couple of weeks ago. At first, I was angry. I didn’t know why, so I watched it again. I must’ve watched it dozens of times over and over until I realized, all you did was tell the truth. And when a reporter asked you what I thought about you coming out, you didn’t answer. It was just a split second at the end, but I could see the pain in your eyes, Son. You could’ve answered. You could’ve told the whole world what an ass I’ve been, but you didn’t. And I realized it wasn’t because you were ashamed. You didn’t answer because you didn’t want to hurt me.” Tears were streaming down my father’s cheeks. I’d never seen him cry before.

  “Dad, I—”

  “No, Son,” he said, wiping away his tears. “Let me finish. I guess you’re wondering why it’s taken two weeks for me to come to you. It’s because I’ve had so much bottled up for so long. I’ve never told your mother this, I’ve never really told anyone, but I had a brother, Robert—I called him Robbie. He was ten years older than me. Oh gosh, I worshipped him. He was so perfect—a good student, never got into trouble, did all his chores without being asked, and man, he could play baseball. I wanted to be just like him. He was my hero.”

  I watched a sad smile cross my father’s face as he continued. “I was crushed when he left for college. He’d gotten a scholarship to play ball at UNC. I was about eight or nine.” He looked up at me. “You remind me of him. You have his eyes. And sometimes with your expressions, I feel like he’s with me again. You’re a lot like him.”

  He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Everything seemed fine for the first couple of years; he came home to visit and he was the same old Robbie, you know? But
one Christmas he stopped coming. I begged your Grandma and Grampa to tell me why he wasn’t home, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. They stopped talking about him, and anytime I asked I was told ‘not to worry about it’, or that ‘it was grown up stuff that I wouldn’t understand’. He just disappeared, and I didn’t understand why.”

  I watched as my father grew more and more uncomfortable. It was a strange; I’d never seen him like that before. “When I was twelve, I remember my mother getting a phone call and my father leaving in the middle of the night. I overheard their whispers. I didn’t understand everything, but I knew what ‘gay’ was, and I knew what ‘AIDS’ was.”

  Oh my god, the pain in my father’s eyes was excruciating. I didn’t want to keep listening. I wanted to tell him to stop. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to finish, but I couldn’t speak. Andy squeezed my hand under the table and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “Mother, your Grandma, I mean, told me that Robbie had pneumonia and that Grandpa was going to pick him up at the hospital in Charlotte.”

  My father took a deep breath. “I thought he’d be fine. I mean, I thought pneumonia was just a bad cold. I was sitting on the front porch the day my father came home with him. He could barely walk over and sit down beside me. He was a shell of the young man I’d known as my big brother. He was skin and bones, he had sores on his face, he’d lost most of his hair. I can’t even remember what he said to me. I wish I could remember. I didn’t know it then, but I know now that he was there to say goodbye to me. He went to hug me as soon as my father told him it was time to go and … God forgive me … I wouldn’t let him hug me. I didn’t even hug him.”

  My father covered his face. He was sobbing uncontrollably. Tears were pouring down my own face.

  Andy jumped up and sat down next to my father. “Pastor Wyrick,” he whispered as he placed his hand on my father’s shoulder. My father chuckled through his tears as he wrapped his arms around Andy. I watched as Andy consoled him. I watched as my father sobbed on Andy’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” Andy whispered. “You were just a kid. Nobody understood back then. It’s okay.”