Game Plan

 

Chris, David, and I shot pool for several hours that night.  David regaled us with stories of his experiences in the Navy while Chris and I listened eagerly.  I hadn’t realized how big David really was until he picked me up like a rag doll and threw me into the couch while we were wrestling.  Chris wasn’t exactly small, but David was huge.

 

Kathlene arrived home around six that evening.  She was as surprised to see David as Chris had been. Their reunion was cut short by David’s growling stomach.  Kathlene stood back at arms length and just laughed.  David, slightly embarrassed, pulled her back into the embrace they shared.

 

“Let go of me, you big ox!” She shouted happily.  “I need to fix enough food to feed all of you, and that could take all night!”

 

David laughed and released Kathlene looking slightly more mussed than she had when she came in.  He then opened the refrigerator and searched its contents with alacrity.

 

“David Forn, unless you learned how to cook since I last saw you, get out of my kitchen,” Kathlene chided with mock seriousness.

 

“Okay, okay.  I get the hint. I’m just hungry,” David complained.

 

“No, really?” She responded.  “Between you and your brothers, I’m surprised there’s anything left in there.”

 

Her statement surprised me and judging by his expression, David as well.  She had referred to us in the plural sense:  David’s brothers.  There was no one else she could be alluding to except me.  It was a strange thing.  I treated the Forn home as my own, and yet I still felt as if I were just a visitor living there on their sufferance.  In my mind, never far from the surface, was the worry that they would evict me if I did even the smallest thing to disappoint them.  It was hard to tell if the concern they showed for me was a pretense out of pity or because they really cared.  I felt as though I were in limbo, waiting for the next shoe to drop.  My feelings vacillated between experiencing complete acceptance to sensing mere tolerance.  I’m sure Kathlene’s and Chris’ assertions that they wanted me to stay were honest and they meant them wholeheartedly.  I, however, couldn’t trust that they would continue to feel that way as the situation changed around me, even with their staunch insistence it was so.  I cursed myself daily because I felt so unstable, so unable to truly connect.  It was a lonely place to be.

 

Dinner was excellent.  Pasta was always a favorite of mine and whatever Kathlene did to the sauce made it perfect.  The Forns continued to catch up on events that had occurred since last they met while I quietly sat back and listened to them chat, watching them interact with one another.  There was genuine fondness between Kathlene and her sons: a fondness I realized I did not share with my own parents. 

 

My anger with them rekindled, I excused myself from the table abruptly and went up the stairs.  Before I could close the door, the voices I left behind picked up again.  I paused to listen.

 

David asked, “What’s wrong with Brian, mom?  He seems so out of it.”

 

“He’s hurting, David,” Kathlene answered.  “He feels like he’s lost everything.”

 

“Is he really gay?”  Did David’s voice carry a slight hint of distaste?

 

Kathlene responded, “I don’t know.  I’m not sure Brian knows.  He said he fell in love with another boy, and he’s adamant that his parents betrayed him.  Brian has told me on multiple occasions that he loved Pete.”

 

“Oh, come on.  He’s only thirteen!  How could he possibly…”

 

“David, age isn’t relevant here.  It’s how he feels.  His parents handled the situation poorly, and now Brian will have nothing to do with them.”  Kathlene’s voice grew stronger as she spoke.  “I agreed to take him in because he’s a good boy who needs someone to love him.  If he won’t let his parents love him, then I’ll love him for as long as he’ll let me.  It’s the right thing to do, and I won’t have you suggesting otherwise while you’re here.”

 

“Sure, mom.  Whatever you want,” David replied with a longsuffering sigh.

 

“I mean it, David.  And I don’t want you pestering him.  Let the boy have some peace.”

 

 “Davey, how would you feel if it were me in love with a girl, and she was taken away?” Chris queried.

 

David replied, “It’s not the same, spud.  He thinks he’s gay and…”

 

I went into my room and closed the door, shutting out the voices from below.  I hadn’t been on Christmas vacation for a full day yet, and I was already feeling uneasy about David being here.  I sighed heavily and undressed for bed.  My rest was immediately disturbed by horrific nightmares.  Sleep was not an option.

 

Chris and David were as thick as thieves while David was home.  I spent a lot of time watching the brothers play and hang out.  Chris would always try to include me in what they were doing, but it was almost like an afterthought.  When I refused, he cast a sad glance my way but I was quickly forgotten.

 

Christmas day came.  When I awoke I could hear Christmas songs coming from the family room below.  I reluctantly rolled out of bed, put on my sweats and followed the strains of music to its source.  Kathlene was sitting on the family room couch sipping coffee as she read the morning paper.  David was still snoozing on the sofa bed he’d commandeered for his use, his arm thrown over his eyes.  It seemed he could sleep through anything.

 

“Merry Christmas, Brian,” Kathlene said quietly but cheerfully.

 

“You too,” I replied through an obviously forced smile.

 

She stared at me for a moment and then patted the seat next to her.  I sat dutifully and was surprised when she pulled me against her, my head laying on her opposite shoulder.  She was holding me like a big baby.  I tried to sit up, but she wouldn’t let me.  Instead, she pulled my head into her breast, and whispered in my ear.

 

“Brian, if I could take away the pain I know you must have, I would in an instant.  I know what you’re feeling.  I’ve lost my husband.  I miss him dearly, every single day.”  Kathlene’s breath caught for a moment, then she continued, “You’re missing someone very important to you, too.”

 

I stared at my knees as she spoke.  Her words left me feeling empty inside.  Not only had she reminded me of the events that had obliterated my life, but she’d taken them out of the back of my mind and shoved them in my face.  I had been hoping I could go through the day without thinking about Pete, but that would be a hopeless endeavor.

 

Kathlene continued, “For now, you and I, we can support each other and help each other through this day.  Please remember that I’m here for you, and I love you as one of my own.”

 

I couldn’t respond.  I was too wrapped up with the pain she had inadvertently cause me.

 

“Brian?”

 

I looked up at her face.  Her tears glinted in the glow of the Christmas tree lights, and when her eyes met mine I buried my face against her.

 

“Brian,” Kathlene breathed, “I love you, sweetheart.”

 

She kissed my cheek, holding me tightly as she gently rocked me, while humming some nameless tune.  Once again, Kathlene had found a way inside my defenses to damage the foundation of the wall I was trying so hard to build.  Tears fell from my eyes but I made no sound, wishing only for Pete to be here and knowing it was an impossible wish.

 

David woke a short time later, stretching his body to fight off the remains of his slumber.  I abruptly pulled away from Kathlene and scrambled up to the kitchen water closet.  Washing my face in the frigid water helped me to regain my composure, but it took longer for my swollen eyes to recede.  David knocked on the door as I was drying my face for the fourth time.  I let him in but kept my head down in an attempt to retain something of my shattered dignity.  I walked away from him toward the stairs to my room.

 

“Brian?” David called, “Are you okay.”

 

“Yeah.  Just fine.”  It was difficult, but I managed to hide the bitterness in my tone.

 

I retreated to my room and curled up on my bed, determined to sleep through the day in an attempt not to deal with it or the emotions threatening to burst through my mask.  Dealing with my nightmares was easy compared to coping with the pain of separation.  Kathlene knocked on my door no more than five minutes later.

 

“Go away!”

 

“Brian, honey,” she said as she cracked open my door, “we’re waiting for you to come back downstairs.”

 

“You guys go ahead,” I replied with a resigned tone.  “I’m going to stay here, try to get some sleep.”

 

“Brian Andrew Kellam, get out of that bed this instant.” Kathlene barked in frustration.  “You are coming downstairs.  You are part of our family, Brian.  This is a day for celebration, as well as reflection, and I want all my sons with me.”

 

I didn’t move, and that seemed to piss her off even more.

 

“Do I have to pull you out of bed?  I’m sure Chris or David would help me.”

 

I rolled over to face her.  My brain kicked into high gear as I weighed her words and determined expression.  It didn’t take long to decide discretion was the better part of stupidity, and get out of bed.  I warily approached her, waiting for her to lead the way.  Instead of moving, she once more wrapped me in a tight hug.  Kathlene was speaking under her breath and it wasn’t until I heard the word “amen” that I realized she was praying.  Over her shoulder, I could see Chris watching us from the bottom of the stairs.  It was hard to read his expression because it was rapidly shifting from one emotion to the next.  He climbed the stairs to join us, drawing near just as Kathlene released me.

 

“Come downstairs please, Brian,”  she quietly ordered.

 

I acquiesced and shrugged my acceptance.

 

“Mom,” Chris inserted, “we’ll be there in a second.”

 

“That’s fine, Chris.  Don’t be too long, please.”

 

“We won’t.”

 

Chris pushed me back into my room and closed the door behind him.  He stood in front of me, scrutinizing me for a moment.  I calmly returned the favor, waiting for him to open up the conversation.  I didn’t have long to wait.

 

“Brian, mom was right.  I want you downstairs, too.  You’re my brother in every way that matters.  If I could make you believe that and believe that what we feel for you is real, I would in a heartbeat.”

 

“Chris...”

 

“It’s okay,” he interrupted.  “You don’t have to say anything or explain.”  He paused a moment and continued in a softer voice.  “I remember what the first Christmas was like after dad died.  The only thing that made it bearable was being with mom and Davey.  You need to be with someone right now, even if you don’t feel like it.”

 

Chris hugged me tightly and made it difficult to breathe as my ribs creaked under the strain.  When he released me, I took in a ragged gasp of air.  My God he was getting strong!  Chris was growing too: maybe an inch since the first of the school year.  I hadn’t grown at all unless you count the little muscle I’d put on.

 

“C’mon, bro.  Family’s waiting.”

 

Chris wrapped his arm around my shoulder and walked me downstairs to the family room.  David and Kathlene were sitting on the floor, resting their backs against the couches.  When we arrived, David stood and pulled me into a rough, loose hug.

 

“Merry Christmas, Brian,” he said.

 

“Thanks,” I replied, “you too.”

 

He released me quickly and went back to his place on the floor near where Chris had planted himself.  It seemed to me that David’s greeting had been forced; that he really didn’t care if I was there or not.  Then again, it could have been my imagination.  It had certainly been running wild over the past several months.

 

Gifts were passed out, and I was surprised that I received one from each of the Forns.  Since I hadn’t had the money, the best I could do was a card for each of them.   I wrote a letter to enclose in Kathlene’s card, but at the last moment I decided against including it. All the letter had been was a list of my problems, and thanks for taking me in and helping me.  Looking back, the reason I left it out was the pages left me feeling too open and vulnerable.  I couldn’t allow that.

 

Christmas dinner was a replay of Friday’s meal except for the turkey and ham.  After Kathlene said grace David and Chris dug in with their usual gusto.  Kathlene also loaded her plate, but didn’t pile food up to nose level as her sons did.  For my part, I didn’t want to gain any weight because of the wrestling meet we were having our first week back. I took small portions of everything, spreading it out to look like my plate was full.  Kathlene would come down on me again if she thought I wasn’t eating right, and that was something to be avoided at all costs.

 

David’s leave ended three days later.  I watched the Forn household go from a warm, cheery place to what amounted to a funeral home.  After hugging his mother and brother, David forced himself to smile and shake my hand.  I smiled too, but my eyes remained cold.  I knew what he was about, and David knew it.  Without delaying any longer, he walked out the door and was off to wherever he was going.

 

Chris and Kathlene turned into the most melancholy people I had ever known.  After seeing how much David meant to them, I could understand some moping around, but this went on for a long time.  Kathlene came out of it first on New Years Eve day.  Chris, however was depressed well into the first week back at school.  I let him brood and didn’t try to talk to him.  His demeanor warned me off.

 

We got back to school and the day of the meet came. It was great.  I had to lose three pounds for the day of the match, but that was no problem.  I was nervous as hell.  Those skimpy uniforms left nothing to the imagination.  I felt like I was hanging out in the breeze with my equipment on display for all to see.  It really threw me off when we walked by the spectators.  I felt like I had to cover myself, but I had nothing to hide behind.  Ignoring it seemed the best option, but it wasn’t easy.

 

Neither Kathlene nor Chris came to watch, not that I really expected them too.  I caught myself looking around the crowd searching for a familiar face, perhaps my dad or mom, but quickly regained control of my wandering mind.  I hated losing my concentration like that.  It was hard enough to hold things together without my so-called family popping into my mind.

 

The time for my match came.  Coach Hanes stood just off the mat, giving me a pep talk as my opponent’s coach did the same for his wrestler.  I couldn’t remember a word he said.  My concentration was on trying to control my nervous stomach and watching the boy with whom I’d soon be engaged.  He stood a bit taller than I did, and appeared as nervous as I felt.  The kid was almost shaking but he met my gaze with steady eyes.  The next thing I knew we were standing across from each other on the mat shaking hands and the match was on.

 

In the split second just after the whistle blew, everything I had learned left my head.  I froze.  Fortunately, my rival had the same reaction.  I shot for his legs when I recovered, effectively taking the still-stunned boy by surprise.  It just seemed to happen as if I was made for it. I don’t think I was perfect, and I can’t remember a thing about the match with any clarity except having my arm raised after the final period expired.  I had won on points.

 

It’s hard to say exactly why, but that match was important for me to win.  The victory had proven that I wasn’t completely out of my depth, and that I could compete.  It was something I could control.  There was no team as there was in football where everyone had to play well to win.  I was accountable only to myself.  Win or lose, I was the one to blame, and no one else could take that away from me.

 

I had absolutely no free time after school was back in session.  The actual class work was so simple as to be inane.  I completed assignments days ahead of time since the homework pattern was predictable.  As always, I helped Chris with his homework.  He’s a good student, but for some reason, math doesn’t penetrate his skull.  It was like throwing mud up on the wall: some sticks, but most falls off.

 

Grades came out again.  How my report card made it to the Forn house, I didn’t know, and I really didn’t care.  My semester marks were as I expected them.  I received a four-point while Chris received a three-point-four, much to his and Kathlene’s delight.

 

By the end of wrestling season I had a near perfect record in my weight division, having lost only one match, and that on points.  My coaches wanted me to go to a summer clinic they were hosting in July.  Several coaches from various colleges and universities that would be there for the week-long clinic.  I said I’d try, but I didn’t know if we’d be able to afford it.  They asked me to let them know by the end of the year.

 

Spring sports came up, and I went out for track, much to everyone’s astonishment.  I loved baseball and everyone who knew me knew that, but I didn’t think it would give me the exercise I needed to keep in shape.  I went out for the long sprints, like the fifteen-hundred and the eight-hundred, and was placed on the four-by-four relay team by the head coach.  I figured I ran about seven miles each practice.

 

During the track season I learned how to let my mind go into neutral as I ran.  I would think of nothing, not even paying attention to the act of running itself.  I felt free from the cares of the world as I ran: no burdens, no emotions, no pain.  There were several times someone would physically have to catch me to tell me the drill was over or practice was done for the day.  Sometimes I’d take all of my things out to practice with me and run home afterward.

 

When the school year ended I had maintained my perfect grade point average and  Chris held a strong average as well.  Other than the camp I was going to attend, we had no plans for the summer.

 

Chris and I were growing.  He now stood at five-ten, and weighed in at a solid one-hundred-seventy-five pounds.  I had gained an inch, now standing at five-three, and had gained some weight from muscle after wrestling had ended, right at one twenty. 

 

Football season was never far from our thoughts, so we started lifting with that in mind.  Chris kept his routine pretty constant, but I started trying to put on muscle instead of just going for endurance.  The results were disappointing to say the least.  It seemed like I was destined to be short and skinny for my entire life.

 

The wrestling camp was held the week of July fifteenth.  I wanted to be back down at my match weight by the time it started, so I had to lose five by the beginning of camp.  I began to moderate my diet the last week of June, taking smaller portions and skipping breakfast all together.  I was hungry but I ignored it, distracting myself with working out and running.

 

At night, I read everything I could get my hands on that interested me, from science to history, Science Fiction to fantasy.  I read some of the classics at Kathlene’s suggestion.  I knew exactly what I was doing by reading into the early hours of the morning:  The less sleep I got, the smaller chance a really bad nightmare would grab me.  The little nightmares were a matter of course and I took them in stride.

 

June passed into July.  Chris and I still spent nearly every waking moment together.  We hadn’t killed each other yet, nor did we fight much.  We had formed a connection through the losses we had suffered, and unspoken comradeship through our pain.

 

Chris and I went out camping one night at the fort I had carved out near my house, the one where Pete and I had stashed the bike the night his father almost caught us.  We sat and talked about everything and nothing.  We solved all the world’s problems that night.  It was too bad no one would ever hear about it.

 

That was the night that Chris and I formed an even tighter bond.  When we were both ready to go to sleep but my mind was still utter chaos from the emotions our discussion had evoked.  Chris, sensing my discomfort, put his arm around me before he fell asleep, comforting me long enough that I could drift of to a blessedly dreamless night of slumber.

 

I quickly became addicted to him.  When the nightmares would get really bad, I’d get out of my bed and go into Chris’ room and silently cry myself to sleep on the floor.  It seemed his mere presence was enough to drive the demons away, if just for a little while.  I’d normally wake up well before he did and return to my room, leaving Chris none the wiser of my activity.  When he did wake before I did Chris never mentioned my presence.  He would play it off as if nothing was amiss.  We continued in that vein until the night I nearly lost my grip on sanity.

 

The day before, I had gone home to get a book I wanted that had slipped notice.  The house was empty when I got there, and I used my key to let myself in.  I found what I wanted almost immediately, but when I came out to leave, my mother was standing there, staring at me.  She suddenly broke down and fell on her knees begging my forgiveness.  I tried to move past her, but she clung to my legs, beseeching me to stay.  I couldn’t handle it and ran back to the Forn house as fast as I could.  Wasting no time, I went to my room and collapsed in a breathless heap.

 

I didn’t eat at all that day, nor did I work out.  When night fell, Kathlene attempted to get me to talk, to tell her what had occurred, but I ignored her.  She let me be and went to bed.

 

For twelve hours I had stayed in that one place, ignoring not only my environment, but also my bodily needs.  I didn’t eat, I didn’t drink, I didn’t piss or shit.  As midnight came, sleep found me no matter how I tried to avoid it.

 

I woke up in the middle of the morning in a cold sweat, a vivid nightmare preying on my mind.  I could barely move.  Somehow I made my way to Chris’ room and my customary place on the floor before I found sleep again.  Chris shook me awake as another violent nightmare held me in its sway.  I clutched at him like a little child afraid of the dark and pulled him down on top of me.  He calmed me down enough to guide me to the bathroom and prompt me to void.  After, he asked me to wash my face before taking me back to his room.  He laid down on his bed, put his back against the wall, and pulled me in after him.  I slept peacefully for the rest of the night with Chris’ strong arms around me, sheltering me from my own mind. 

 

I don’t like to think of what would have happened had Chris not been there for me that night.

 

The wrestling camp finally arrived.  A full week of glorious combat guided by some of the best coaches in the country.  Other wrestlers I’d be facing during the season would most likely be there as well.  I couldn’t wait to scrap with them and see how good I really was.

 

My target weight for the camp had been one-twenty, but I didn’t quite make it, coming in at one-twenty-three instead.  When the coaches measured my body fat it came out right at three percent.  I was a lean, mean, wrestling machine.  The coaches cautioned me about my weight, though.  I was at the minimum body fat allowable for competition.

 

After weigh in, we were separated into groups by weight class and then by experience.  The weight divisions were further separated into sets of three, similar weight brackets being grouped together.

 

Some of the older wrestlers took us by small groups and put us through some drills so the coaches could gauge our skills.  Once we had all been scrutinized we were split again into groups based on apparent skill levels within our weight set, and then we got down to business.

 

The camp was all I’d hoped it would be.  As the event continued we were occasionally taken aside for individual instruction.  It seemed like I spent half of the day every day under the tutelage of one coach or another, sometimes two at a time.  I had an absolute blast and I gained much through the experience: skills, insights, and a renewed determination to excel.

 

The organizational meeting for freshman football snuck up on me one Friday afternoon in early August.  Chris had to remind me four times and yelled at me to get dressed when the time to leave arrived.  There were more guys there than I expected.  About one-hundred boys from all over the area signed up. The head coach, Mr. Dalton, informed us that we would be starting daily doubles the following Monday.  An almost universal groan followed his announcement, but Chris and I were delighted.  Again it seemed we had the advantage over our classmates. The coach continued to notify us of the requirements necessary prior to participating in practice.  When the routine matters had been dealt with, the coach once again got our attention.

 

“Good afternoon.  My name is Coach Dalton.  I’m the head coach for the freshman football team.  There are ninety-six names on the sign-up list.  We will carry forty of you.  You can do the math.  I’ll be straight up with you: it’s going to be a tough season.  My job as your coach isn’t to win games.  My job is to get you ready to play Junior Varsity and Varsity ball.  If we win, great.  If not, I’m not that concerned.  Consider this season as your football boot camp.

 

“Those of you who really want to be on this squad, who want to work hard and give one-hundred-and-ten percent will make the cut.  If you’re here just to mess around, or because you thought it would be cool to be on the football team, don’t bother showing up. If you think this is a joke, don’t bother showing up, because on Monday we’ll find out who you are very quickly.  It’ll be obvious who is serious, who is out there to work and play ball.  If you’ve changed your mind about trying out, then scratch your name off the list as you leave.  If you still want to try to make the team, then take one of the playbooks on your way out.

 

“That’s it for now.  I’ll see those of you who want to put forth the effort on Monday morning at seven.”

 

The coach stepped down and sat at the table where the playbooks waited.  As Chris and I picked up our playbooks, he stopped us.

 

“Forn and Kellam, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, sir,” we responded in chorus.

 

Coach Dalton snorted and raised one corner of his mouth.  “Think you can grow any, Kellam?  What do you weigh?”

 

I grinned back at him, a hard glint in my eye.  “I’m about one-twenty-five. What I don’t have in size I make up for in speed and power,” I said confidently.

 

“I remember,” the coach nodded.  “We’ll see what happens over the next couple weeks.  I’ll talk to you on Monday.  It’s good to see both of you here.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” we again said simultaneously.

 

Unlike middle school ball, the real playbooks were not handed out at the meeting.  Instead, they handed out an abridged playbook with some basic run, option and passing plays.

 

I was pleased to see Mac Bedler at the meeting as well.  Although I didn’t know him well, I knew his work ethic and that was good enough for me.  He didn’t see me before Chris and I left, but we’d see him on the following Monday.

 

Chris and I spent the intervening weekend relaxing.  Our workouts were cursory as we didn’t want to strain ourselves before the daily doubles until we knew what to expect.  Kathlene professed her great relief that practice was once again upon us so she wouldn’t have to deal with the full brunt of our energy.  Sunday night, we went to bed early.  Chris and I parted ways about eight-thirty.  I sat in bed reading for a little bit, then turned out the light to go to sleep.  I laid there wide awake for the next two hours before my eyes got too heavy to stay open any longer.

 

The day was hotter than hell.  Not even a light breeze stirred the air on the field.  Our team was on offense, and with every play we gained at least ten yards until we were at the opponents three-yard-line.  Mac was given the ball and hammered away at the defensive line, making it across the goal line on third down.  Our team went wild, high-fives and head butts all around. 

 

Coach calls for the kickoff team, so I take my position on the right end of the line.  The ball is launched deep into our opponent’s territory.  I’m flying down the field as fast as I can, watching for the hint that will tell me which way to turn.  The receiving player runs away from me so my team gives chase, following the ball carrier.  Suddenly, the ball is tossed to a player coming my way. A reverse!  There is no one between me and the man carrying the ball.  He’s looking up field, trying to find a hole in our defense.  He doesn’t even see me.

 

I reach him, taking him in the side with all the power I possess.  A sickening crunch announces the impact.  I drive him to the ground and feel other people join in on the pile.  I was exultant!  It was the best hit I’d ever delivered to anyone.  As the pile clears, I stand up and celebrate.  It was a great play.  Guys are slapping my helmet in acknowledgement.  A tremendous rush goes through me.

 

On the ground, the boy I’d hit wasn’t moving.  His coach was trying to take off his helmet, trying to speak to the kid laying on the field.  The ambulance drives onto the field.  The referees are trying to pull me away, but I resist and stand my ground.   I take off my helmet as the paramedics do what they’re trained for, trying to see what’s happening.

 

A few moments later, the paramedics stop working.  One gets a cart out of the bus, and loads the corpse of the child I’d just killed into the ambulance.  It was only then I saw the face of my victim as Pete's lifeless form was concealed by the ambulance doors.

 

“Brian!”  Kathlene stood a few feet from me, and Chris stood at my door.

 

I screamed as she approached me, and she backed away quickly.  My head was spinning and I couldn’t make sense of anything.

 

“Brian,” Kathlene said again, “Please come down, honey.  It’s all a dream.”

 

Chris stood by his mother.  “C’mon, Brian.  It’s all over.  You can relax now.  None of it is true.”

 

How would he know?  He wasn’t there.  He didn’t see Pete die.  I was angry.  No, I was enraged: enraged that Chris and Kathlene had the audacity to tell me what I had experienced wasn’t real.  I was there!  I felt the impact that sent Pete's ribs through his lungs.

 

With a feral growl, I pushed past them to run down the stairs and out the garage door to the weight room.  Once there, I realized that I was clad only in boxer-briefs.  Desperately, I searched the room with my eyes.  What had I come here for?  Why had I come here in the first place?  I was confused.  A weight bench made a convenient seat as I tried to puzzle out what was happening.

 

The door opened behind me.  I expected Chris to come up behind me, perhaps to sit next to me as I thought.  Instead, Kathlene put her hands on my shoulders.  I jumped away from her reflexively.

 

I’m afraid of her, came the thought on the fringes of my consciousness.

 

“Brian, honey, please come back into the house.  We’ll have some hot cocoa and talk, okay?”

 

“No,” I said abruptly.

 

Kathlene took a step toward me, and I backed away into the rear wall.  More adrenaline pumped into my veins as I realized I was trapped.  She must have sensed my thoughts, because she, too, took a step back.  Chris came in behind her.  He stood off to one side with plenty of room to intercept me if I decided to attack. 

 

The standoff continued for what seemed like forever.  Chris broke the stalemate by stepping in front of his mother, and slowly advancing on me.  He spoke calming words, that didn’t register in my brain as verbal communication.  Only his tone and rate of movement told me he had no hostile intent.

 

Reason slowly returned to my consciousness.  I realized what had happened from the instant I woke until that moment.  The nightmare came back and struck me brutally.  My knees buckled and I fell forward into my brother’s arms.

 

The three of us made our way back inside after my emotional release.  We had hot chocolate as promised while they carefully questioned me about the content of my nightmare.  I just couldn’t tell them.  What would they think about me if they found out I had dreamed about killing the one person in the world I truly loved? 

 

After an hour of their continuous questions, I concocted a story about being in a fight and getting beat up over and over again.  Neither Chris nor Kathlene believed me - of that I’m sure - but they took it as a sign they were to get nothing out of me.

 

Kathlene went back to bed around four that morning.  Chris, against my protests, stayed up with me.  He watched me with suspicious eyes for the rest of the night.  It didn’t matter what I said to him, he wouldn’t stop staring at me.  He was making me angry, but he didn’t react when I yelled at him: he just continued to study me.  The more he watched me the more furious I got.  I finally had to resort to begging him to leave me alone, but the emotional turmoil from the night leaked through once again.

 

I rested my head in his lap as I cried once more.  He rubbed my head, running his fingers through my hair.  When I finally looked at his face once more, his eyes were filled with tears.  Chris, God bless him, couldn’t stand to see me in pain.

 

“Bri, you gotta tell me what the dream was about.  You just gotta!  How can I help you if you won’t let me in?” Chris asked plaintively.

 

“I can’t!” Anguished refusal filled my voice.

 

“Yes you can, Bri,” Chris insisted.  What are you afraid of?  Are you afraid I’ll reject you?”

 

“Yes!” There.  I’d said it.  My greatest fear had finally come out. 

 

Chris lifted me onto the couch and wrapped me up in a bear hug.  It was warm and secure.  I felt safe, at last.  He held me for a long time.  Eventually I felt safe enough, secure enough in his arms to describe the nightmare in detail.  Even though he was shocked, Chris never once loosened his grip on me.  If anything, he squeezed even tighter..

 

I drifted off to a dreamless untroubled sleep in his arms for as long as I could.  Whether Chris slept or not, I don’t know.

 

“Bri?  Time to wake up and eat breakfast, Bri.”

 

I opened my eyes and looked up into his face.  He was concerned for me, and that made me smile.  I snuggled back down in his arms for a moment, but Chris got impatient and prodded me until I got up so we could attend our needs.  He was frowning as he stood.  This confused me, and my smile faded. 

 

Chris went upstairs to the kitchen bathroom, and I took the upstairs bathroom. We met again in the kitchen for breakfast.  I was unusually hungry that morning, devouring two large bowls of corn flakes and a quart of orange juice.  Chris and I then got our practice clothes on: jock with cup, sweatshirt, sweat pants, shorts, and a t-shirt.  We also took a hand towel and a couple bottles of water, just to be safe.

 

Kathlene showed her face just in time to take us to the field.  When we arrived, thirty or forty people were milling around without apparent purpose.  Chris and I found a spot on the grass and began a warm up routine we’d developed when we played eighth-grade ball.  By the time the coaches arrived at seven o’clock, we were warm and ready to go.

 

“Good morning, men!” Coach Dalton loudly said.  “It’s good to see so many of you out here.  We’ll take a list this morning as we run some drills.  More about that later.  We need to get started.” 

 

Unexpectedly, the coach bellowed, “Forn!  Kellam!  Get up here.  You’re going to lead the warm-ups.  Use the routine you just finished.  If I want you to add anything, I’ll let you know.”

 

We made our way to the front of the pack of people who wanted to play.  A quick count showed there were over seventy people there.

 

“Fall in,” Chris shouted, immediately taking the role he was given to heart.  “Seven columns, separated by eight feet.”

 

Some of the players moved slowly once the instructions were given and I made a mental note of who they were.  I noticed the coaches doing the same, speaking quietly among themselves.  Chris led us through the exercises by tacit agreement.  The commands would go over easier coming from his larger body as opposed to my smaller frame.

 

When the exercises were over, Chris ordered everyone onto the track for a warm up jog.  We set the pace in an attempt to keep everyone together as a team, but it was soon apparent that a lot of our fellows hadn’t been keeping in shape over the summer.  About two-thirds kept up with the pace we set.

 

With two hundred yards to go, Chris yelled, “Sprint the last hundred yards!  Spread out to give yourself room!”

 

At the hundred yard mark, Chris and I kicked it up into high gear.  The training we had done throughout the summer really paid off.  I edged him out right at the end, winning by two strides.  Everyone else came in according to their capabilities.  Again I saw the coaches taking notes.

 

I tried to remember who had completed the run without breathing overly hard.  There were several of us.  I counted eight.  Chris was grinning at me as I looked around.

 

“You got me that time, bro.  I’ll beat you this afternoon.”

 

A few people whimpered at the reminder of another practice later in the day.

 

“We’ll see,” I rejoined.  “I think you’re getting too bulky to keep your speed up, dude.”

 

Chris blinked and asked in a worried tone, “Do you think so?”

 

“Chris,” I commiserated, “You’re going to be big like David is.  I doubt he’s as fast as he used to be.”

 

He sighed.  “I guess you’re right.”

 

“Don’t sweat it.  You’re going to be a brick wall no matter where they put you.”

 

Conversation ceased as the coaches called us over for the first set of drills in a grueling morning.