Quandary

Practice ended at ten. It was a good thing Chris and I hadn’t worked out over the weekend because practice would leave me sore enough as it was. Coach Dalton put everyone through their paces, sizing us up for positions, testing our capabilities and developing a general assessment of each player. Chris and I were separated almost immediately: I went with the receivers and backs and Chris went with Mac to the lineman group.

The first thing the coaches did was time us in a forty yard sprint, then they put us on the field for wind sprints. I decided to pace myself because I knew there would be more coming our way and I wasn’t disappointed. We started on the goal line, sprinted to the ten, back to the goal line, to the twenty and returning to the goal line, and so on out to the fifty. When we’d finished the last segment, they timed us again on the forty.

The rest of the day was pretty much the same. Coach Dalton put us through drills involving running all morning, and after every drill, they’d time us again. It didn’t make sense to me, but I didn’t argue: I really wanted to play for reasons even I wasn’t sure I understood.

Practice was due to end at ten. For the last twenty minutes, Coach combined the groups again and had Chris and I lead a final cool down run. We took a much slower pace than the warm up run we’d had at the beginning of practice, but even so we still had people falling out. Some would collapse into a heap on the grass infield laboring to breathe and others would slow to a walk but still keep going. The coaches checked on each and every one of them, leading some off to the bleacher seats to wait out the run, and exhorting others to complete the run even if they had to walk it. Twelve people had failed to complete the run in all.

When the morning practice finally ended, the coach told us the evening practice would be at three and last just two hours. I think he was giving us a break after seeing the fitness level of his players but I wasn’t going to complain. It had been a rough work out, even for me and Chris who had worked out through the summer and kept in shape. I could just imagine what the guys who had dropped out felt like.

Kathlene was waiting for us as we staggered out to the car. Chris collapsed into the passenger seat as I fell into the back seat and curled up for a nap.

"That good, boys?" Kathlene asked with mild amusement.

Chris grunted his reply and I let him speak for me. I was exhausted and knew the lack of sleep from the night prior was catching up to me. All I could think about was my bed yet I knew if I crashed I would be too stiff to practice in the afternoon, so I was left with no choice but to stay up and moving.

"Brian, honey," Kathlene said, "I know your tired, but you need to sit up and put on your seat belt."

I groaned in response as I did what she asked. Maybe I could catch some sleep on the way home, I thought idly.

Kathlene dropped us off at the house, promising to be back to pick us up in time for the afternoon practice. Chris and I dragged ourselves inside and managed to close the door behind us.

"I got dibs on the tub," Chris said wearily.

"You can have the tub," I conceded "Just let me shower first."

"All right, Bri, but be quick, ‘kay?" Chris requested.

"I always am."

"Thanks, Bri."

Chris did indeed appear as exhausted as I felt. His entire body seemed wilted and hunched over. He climbed the stairs ahead of me as if each step took tremendous effort. I swear he would have toppled over backwards had I not been there to keep him moving ahead. Chris trudged down the hall to his room as I watched and, as expected, a large whomp accompanied the crash landing on his bed.

When I got to my room, I quickly stripped down to my boxer briefs and trotted across the hall into the bathroom. I started the water full hot and cooled it down from there until the water just felt chilly. When the temperature of the cascade was just right, I climbed in and allowed the stream of water to cool me down for about thirty seconds before soaping my body and lathering my hair. Within three minutes I was done with washing so I allowed myself another two minutes under the water, lowering the temperature every few seconds until at last the frigid spray caused me to gasp. I turned off the water quickly and jumped out of the tub to dry myself vigorously. Once my body temperature had returned to something above freezing, I wrapped the towel around my waist and went to inform Chris it was his turn.

His door was open so I looked in on him. The poor guy had crashed out on his bed in just his running shorts. Chris’ practice clothes were strewn about his room into their appropriate piles. I was just about to wake him, but something stopped me. I crept into his room and just looked at Chris’ supine form. He’d really started growing in the last year and had added considerable mass in the time we had been working out together. Even in his relaxed state Chris’ muscles stood out in bold relief, accentuating his otherwise smooth body. From head to toe, Chris was absolutely beautiful .

What the fuck am I doing? I questioned myself angrily as my body reacted to the vision before me.

There was no way Chris would be interested in me: he’s straight. Besides, I had Pete. He’s all I want. We’ll be together again.

A demon somewhere inside said, But Pete’s not here now, and he has probably forgotten you already. You know how lonely you are, and it’s just what you need. Besides, no one would know.

"I’d know!" I said loudly, startling Chris to semi-wakefulness.

"Huh?" he asked blearily, still half asleep.

"Nothing, Chris," I sighed. "Sorry. The tub’s all yours."

Chris returned to alertness with that news. He took a moment to look me over and note my position inside his room. My friend stared at me for a long few seconds to take in my flushed face and confused expression, then looked down to the towel.

Chris slowly replied, "Okay... thanks, Bri." His voice sounded odd to my ears, strained somehow.

Realizing that the proof of my thoughts was readily visible, I quickly turned and retreated to my room, damning myself the whole way. The door closed quietly as I made a concerted effort not to slam it in pique. Thoroughly disgusted with myself for even venturing down that path, I paced from wall to wall, working myself up into a frenzy.

I’d almost betrayed Pete, and myself as well! I thought savagely. Chris too! He told me he’s not interested, and I still go and stare at the guy like a fucking flamer. What the hell am I going to do?

I threw myself hard against the wall and slid down to a sitting position, wrapping my head in my arms. What was I going to do? Was I falling in love with Chris? This couldn’t be! Chris was my friend. I needed him. I depended on him to be there for me. How could I face him now? Tears streamed down my face as sobs of frustration and longing overtook me.

Suddenly I slammed my head backwards into the wall once, twice, a third time, ignoring the pain. Cradling my head once again, I waged war against my hormones and my heart. I sat in judgment of myself, staring out the window into the blue sky. How could I face Chris now, knowing that these thoughts had crept into my mind? Could I keep those thoughts from returning? Could I still be his friend? What about Pete? It had been over a year since he’d been taken away and I hadn’t heard anything from him. Maybe he had forgotten me.

"No!" I shouted as I forcefully slammed my head back into the wall again. I felt something give behind me. "No."

I struggled to a standing position and put on a clean set of boxer briefs. I then laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, continuing to castigate myself for allowing my feelings for Chris to grow into this forbidden realm. Now that they were there, I had no idea how to continue on. Do I tell Chris? Do I tell Kathlene? Could I actually tell either of them?

Somehow, I had drifted off to sleep while trying to determine a course of action. When I woke, dried tears covered my face and stained my pillowcase. My sinuses ached and my head throbbed. A glance at the clock told me I’d been asleep for about two hours. I rolled out of bed and pulled on some baggy shorts. The spot where I’d tried to put my head through the wall had a slight indent but was invisible unless one was looking for it.

Thank God, I thought, no explanations and no lectures.

I cautiously raised my hand to the back of my head and felt swelling but no other injuries.

Good. No evidence, no crime.

On the way down to the kitchen I paused in the bathroom to take a couple pain relievers and to make sure Chris hadn’t drowned in the tub. He wasn’t there. Satisfied he was still in the land of the living, I took the stairs down to the living room. I found Chris sitting in the kitchen eating a loaf’s worth of sandwiches while reading the paper.

"Hey, Bri. Hungry?" Chris asked when he looked up. His voice still seemed strained to my hypersensitive ears.

"Not really," I replied. "My head hurts."

"D’ ya take anything?"

"Yeah," I confirmed "It just needs to work now."

I hadn’t yet so much as glanced at Chris. I was embarrassed and ashamed of what had happened in his room. His voice made it certain beyond a doubt he knew exactly what had occurred. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to again.

My feet took me to the kitchen where I rummaged through the remains of the contents of the fridge. There wasn’t much left. We needed to go grocery shopping.

Chris, quietly said, "I, uh, made enough for both of us, Bri."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

After pouring myself the last of the orange juice I took a seat next to Chris and grabbed a sandwich from the rapidly dwindling stack. I took a bite without paying attention to what it was I was eating and unconsciously continued to chew while staring through the wall across from me.

"Are you okay, Bri?" Chris asked, concern lacing his voice. "You’re kinda zoned out."

"I’m fine, Chris."

"You sure? You don’t look so hot."

I glared at him and barked, "I’m fine, Chris!" much more heatedly than I meant to, then immediately dropped my eyes to my sandwich again.

"Sorry," Chris apologized.

We continued to eat in silence. A few sandwiches later, Chris slapped the table.

"No you don’t, Brian. Not any more, you don’t."

Annoyed, I asked tartly, "What?"

"Ever since you came here, you’ve been able to chase me away when you’re mad. Well, not any more," Chris said sternly. "Tell me what’s bothering you."

"No." I responded without looking at him and took another bite of my tasteless sandwich.

What was Chris trying to do? Make me admit I was physically attracted to him? Trying to embarrass me more than I already was? Trying to learn all the sordid details of what went through my mind as I was watching him?

"Brian, tell me," Chris said sternly. "I’m sick and tired of playing this guessing game. One day you’re fine and act normal, the next you’re all mad and won’t even look at me. What did I do to piss you off?"

What did he do? I wondered. Could it be that he doesn’t realize what actually happened in his room, what I had done?

"You didn’t do anything," I sighed. "I did something, and I’m not gonna tell you what it was. I’m sorry, but this is one thing that I’m not going to talk about, so don’t ask."

Chris pleaded, "At least talk with mom..."

"NO!" I stated firmly as I met his eyes again. "I’m especially not talking to her."

"Brian, you have..." Chris started, but I interrupted him.

"Chris, this is something I have to deal with on my own. I know you want to help, but you can’t- not with this. You could make it worse if you try."

"I don’t understand, Brian!" Chris’ agitation was obvious.

I dropped my eyes once more, and put down my sandwich. My appetite had fled.

"I’m sorry, Chris," I said in a low voice filled with regret. "This is the way it has to be."

I got up from the table leaving my half eaten sandwich on the plate and went back to my room. It was too late to take another nap and I was too tired to work out, so I pulled out a novel I hadn’t read in a while and settled in for a couple hours of light reading.

A knock sounded at my door, pulling me from the fantasy world I was so engrossed with and back into reality.

"Brian? Can I come in?"

Kathlene’s voice was quiet and soothing. Chris had obviously called her at work because she was home an hour early to take us to practice. With a sigh of resignation, I marked my page in the well used book and bade her to enter.

"How are you feeling, hon?" She asked while searching my eyes.

"About like Chris told you, I expect, " I said with some small measure of irritation.

"He’s concerned about you, Brian. So am I," Kathlene added.

"I know, I know. Look. Like I told Chris, this is something I have to deal with on my own. You can't help me, and neither can he."

"What is it that we can’t help you with, hon?" she asked.

"I can’t tell you," I replied, a quaver in my voice betraying my uneasiness.

Kathlene watched my eyes for a few seconds before entering and shutting the door. She sat on the foot of my bed facing me. I couldn’t meet her eyes anymore than I could meet Chris’ eyes.

"Can’t or won’t?" She asked gravely. "Brian, you can tell me anything. You should know that by now."

"Not this," I refused. "I can’t. I’m sorry."

"What could be so terrible that you can’t tell us, Brian?"

Once more, Kathlene had found a way to stir up my emotions, only this time, the automatic reflex to confide in her was held in check. How could I tell her that I had the hots for her son? Chris still shielded me from my nightmares, but if I told either of them what I suspected about my feelings for Chris that would be over. There was no way I was going to risk that by revealing too much.

Why does it have to be this way? I asked myself sadly. Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I live a normal life and be a normal teenager with normal friends and normal problems?

The answer was all too obvious in my mind. I loved another boy.

As the tears began to form, I asked through a catch in my voice, "Why do I have to be gay?"

Kathlene’s eyes teared immediately and she gathered me into her arms. Oddly enough, in spite of the tears the urge to cry left me. She held me as my eyes dried, neither of us speaking. A few moments later, Kathlene held me at arm’s distance and her gaze captured mine.

"I don’t know why, Brian, but God has a reason," Kathlene said with conviction. "I know that much."

"What did I do wrong? Why does He hate me?"

"He doesn’t hate you, Brian. God loves you. That is clear."

"If God loves me, then why did He make me gay?"

"You’re asking the same question two different ways, Brian," Kathlene said, smiling slightly, "but I can’t answer you. "Humans can’t know the mind of God. He has a reason."

"Whatever it is, God sure fucked me over."

Kathlene’s slap left my cheek throbbing. Her eyes burned into mine as I looked back at her, my jaw hanging open in shock.

"Brian Andrew Kellam," she boomed, "what ever else you may do, you will not blaspheme in my house. God never ‘fucks us over’." She continued in a softer voice. "There is a reason for what happens, and we will discover it in the fullness of His time, not before."

I stared at her with my jaw still hanging, turbulent emotions running wild in my confused mind. She pulled me back into a fierce embrace.

"You may not understand now, hon. Someday you’ll see. Someday, you and Pete may be together and it will become clear." She once more pushed me out to arm’s length. "You just have to wait. I know it’s not easy for you. I know you’re in pain. God will take care of all things, honey."

I remained impassive as she professed her certainty that all would be well. The blow she’d landed had brought back my senses and my perspective. I couldn’t obsess over what had occurred with Chris. What had happened had happened, and I needed to continue forward. If it happened again, then that was that. I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it and I wouldn’t draw attention to it.

Kathlene rose and informed me I had about a half hour before she’d take us to practice. I acknowledged her and went back to my book for another fifteen minutes, trying to forget the confrontation. I knew she meant well, but the lecture she’d given me wasn’t what I’d needed right then.

By the time we left for the field, I was fully inside myself. It was where I felt safe at that moment. I made bare comments if either Chris or Kathlene spoke to me. I didn’t feel like I could talk to them for any length of time without the real issue surfacing, so I had stayed in my room until Chris’ mom called me to go.

Practice was different that afternoon. Mac and a guy named Tom Costa were chosen to lead the warm ups. They followed the same routine Chris and I had that morning as they were prompted through it by Assistant Coach Callende. After the stretching and strength exercises, another half-mile run was called for. Unlike the run we’d led that morning, this time the group stretched out, each to their own abilities. Chris and I surged to the front of the pack and continued along at a fair clip considering the amount of running we’d done that morning. As usual, I sprinted the last one-hundred yards. Chris ran alongside keeping pace with me instead of pushing for top speed, allowing us to stretch but not strain. After reaching the end of the run, a quick look back told me I had time for another half lap before the stragglers would cross the finish line, so I took a nice easy pace to continue the warm up run. Chris and Mac joined me on the half-lap and returned with me as we cut across the field to return to the knot of players standing in front of the bleachers where Coach Dalton stood.

The beginning of the afternoon was spent learning four of the basic plays the coach had given us on the previous Friday. We then ran through those plays in groups while the coaches watched and evaluated, noting who had learned the plays as instructed and who hadn’t bothered to study them over the weekend or couldn’t pick up on them.

At the end of practice, the coached assigned us a fifteen-hundred meter jog to be run at our own pace. After a few words, Chris and I set off at a slightly faster than normal speed, using the opportunity to stretch legs that had tightened up during the stop-and-go nature of the afternoon’s practice. Once again, Chris and I came in at the head of the pack.

"Forn, Kellam, over here," called Coach Dalton.

"Yessir?" I asked

"How far do you normally run?" He asked.

"Depends on the day," I shrugged. "Five or six miles. Sometimes twice a day."

Dalton and Callende shared an inscrutable glance, then the head coach asked, "You have the playbook memorized?"

"Yes sir," Chris and I said simultaneously.

"Good. Jorge, hand me a couple blue books."

Coach Callende passed two thick folders to Coach Dalton.

"Bedler, Costa, over here!" Coach Dalton yelled, then returned his gaze to us. "These are the playbooks we’re going to use this year."

Mac Bedler and Tom Costa came to stand beside us. Coach Dalton received another two playbooks from his assistant and passed them to the four of us.

"I want you guys to have these books memorized by the end of the week. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be co-captains until told otherwise."

I blinked.

"Coach Dalton, sir?" I interrupted.

"What is it, Kellam?"

"I’m honored that you think I could be a captain, but I can’t do that for you. All I want to do is play and give you my best. There’s too much going on in my life right now. I don’t have the time to do the job right."

Chris, Tom and Mac looked at me like I was insane as I held out the playbook for Coach Dalton to reclaim. Both coaches studied me, and came to the easy conclusion to accede to my request.

"Thank you for your honesty, Kellam. Keep the playbook. You’ll need it, and I want you to have the plays down by the end of the week too."

"Yessir."

"Step back until everyone else is done with the run. Manning! Get over here."

We walked back to stand in the middle of our potential teammates. Once the last person had crossed the line, Coach Dalton officially appointed Chris, Tom, Mac, and Greg Manning as co-captains pro tem. The other coaches walked through the group pulling players aside and either sending them home with thanks for trying out, or passing out playbooks.

"Those of you who have your playbooks have earned your spot on this year’s team. Those of you without playbooks who haven’t been cut are still working for the remaining fifteen positions. Work hard. I’ll see most of you tomorrow morning at seven. To the rest of you, thank you for the effort you’ve put in. Keep working out, and try again next year. That’s all."

Chris spoke with his fellow co-captains for a few minutes as I headed out to the car. I threw my things in the back seat and told Kathlene I was going to run home without giving her a chance to object.

As I ran the miles between the practice field and home, I tried to blank out my mind, but that place of peace was eluding me. Thoughts of Chris would intrude, visions of Pete would fix themselves before my mind’s eye, and lurking in the background was the demon who had appeared that morning, laughing at my feeble attempts to put aside all thought.

When I arrived at the Forn residence, I went straight to the weight room and started a dumbbell workout that didn’t require Chris to spot me. The clock told me it was about six-thirty, so I’d have plenty of time to complete a circuit. No sooner had the thought passed my mind, Kathlene entered the room.

"Whew," she said, fanning her face with her hand. "Why don’t you open the window in here and let it air out?"

I continued my butterfly lifts, and didn’t respond until I’d completed the final seven repetitions. When I did reply, I schooled my agitation to indifference.

"Dunno," I said. "It doesn’t bother me."

She sat on the bench I’d just left to put the weights back in their place. As she obviously had no intention of moving, I picked up two more weights and moved to the mirror for some curls. Kathlene watched me work for a moment, then stood and moved toward the door, to my great relief.

"Brian," she said, "whatever it is, you can’t run away from it and you can’t hide from it. It’s always going to be there in the back of your mind, eating away at you."

I faltered in one of my lifts and glared at her before returning to work. She seemed unfazed by the animosity my expression conveyed.

"Being angry at me or Chris won’t change anything." She simply stated. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. Wash up before you come to the table, please."

"I’m not hungry," I grunted through the lift that completed my set.

"You have to eat Brian. You used a lot of energy today."

"I’ll get something after I’m done here," I stated petulantly.

Kathlene shook her head disgustedly and walked out of the room leaving me alone once more, but my concentration was blown. Again she had stirred up the emotions I was trying to bury.

"God damn it! Why did You do this to me?" I bellowed to the ceiling in frustration. "Fuck me!" I said more quietly.

I tossed the weights to their place, not bothering to straighten them out as I normally would. After picking up the workout clothes I’d taken off to lift, I flipped off the light and locked the weight room behind me before going into the house through the garage. I found Chris’ clothes already in the washer with soap, so I added my clothes to his and started the machine.

When I walked into the kitchen, Kathlene didn’t seem surprised by my appearance, nor did she look at me as she spoke.

"Brian, if you’re going to take God’s name in vain, I don’t want to hear it. Kindly lower your voice next time." Her disapproval was quite evident in her manner, but it didn’t reach her voice.

Without apology, I walked up to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. By the time I was done, Kathlene had called us to dinner. I threw on a clean t-shirt and a pair of shorts before joining Chris and Kathlene at the table. Kathlene gave the prayer of thanks, and then we dished our plates. Not being hungry, I only took minimal portions to Kathlene’s obvious displeasure and Chris’ dismay.

"Bri, aren’t you hungry?" Chris asked. "You gotta be after all that running today, then you ran home, too. You gotta eat to keep your body working. You know that."

"Thank you, Doctor Forn," I replied scornfully.

"Well, fuck you too." Chris replied heatedly.

"Christopher Michael Forn, that is not acceptable language and you know it. Brian, that was uncalled for. Apologize this instant," Kathlene ordered.

Her tone brooked no argument but I was too angry to give in to what I saw as Kathlene’s bullying. Instead, I left the table and went out the front door. Neither Chris nor Kathlene said anything as I walked away. Once outside, I knew that I wasn’t going anywhere. I had no shoes on in the first place, and I didn’t want to leave in any case.

I knew I was out of line. I knew it, yet I couldn’t stop myself from hurting Chris and his mom. The bedroom incident had thrown me for a loop, and I still didn’t know how I was going to deal with the situation. Regardless of what I was going to do about that, I knew there was something else I had to do immediately.

The door opened with near silence as I pushed it out of my way, leaving Chris and Kathlene unaware of my return. I could hear them talking about practice and Chris’ appointment as co-captain. While I closed the door behind me Chris also told her about my turning down the position and his disappointment that I’d chosen to refuse. Kathlene told him she was certain I had my reasons, and the tenor of my actions that day probably was directly related.

I walked back into their view and crossed the entryway into the dining room. My foster family gave me their polite attention as I stood before them, shuffling my feet and observing the carpet. I had to force my resistant vocal chords into action by clearing my dry throat.

"I’m sorry, Chris," I said sincerely. "I’m sorry, mom. I know I’ve been out of line all day. I screwed up and hurt you both when all you were trying to do is help. I’m sorry. It’s just... nothing makes sense." I paused for a moment to look inside. "I’ve got all these things running through my head, none of it makes any sense. What makes it worse is I can’t tell either of you what it is because I’m not really sure myself, and that scares me. I thought I had things under control, but I don’t."

"Brian," Kathlene said quietly, "We can find someone you can talk to. Give me a few days and I’ll get you an appointment with a counselor."

"I don’t want to see a shrink," I asserted. "That guy in the hospital didn’t do anything but piss me off."

"All I want you to do is promise me you’ll go once and give it a fair shot, alright?" Kathlene pleaded.

I thought hard about her request. The idea of revealing my most intimate thoughts and fears to a complete stranger didn’t appeal at all, but neither did telling Chris or Kathlene about my struggles. That psychiatrist in the hospital had destroyed what little trust I’d had in the profession.

"I’ll think about it," I finally answered. "Find the shrink and I’ll let you know."

She scrutinized me for a moment, then agreed. Chris stood up from the table and approached me cautiously. When he stood in front of me, I looked up at him, uncertain what he was thinking. His brow was drawn together in thought as he peered down into my eyes. My stomach did a somersault as his proximity brought back some of the feelings I was trying to deny, leaving me light-headed. Before I could back away, Chris wrapped me up in a bear hug. His strong arms held me tightly, leaving me feeling safe and secure. My body began to react to the contact, so I adjusted my position within Chris’ embrace to make it less obvious. Kathlene hugged us both from the side, then reminded us dinner was still on the table. I begged off because what little appetite I’d had deserted me, and I didn’t want to make my physical condition known to either of them in any case. Instead I retreated to my room.

I sighed as I sat down on my bed. Sex was on my mind constantly, which wasn’t unusual for a thirteen-year-old boy, but when I did think about it, it was always with other boys. Football was cool, because I was so absorbed into the game my attractions weren’t an issue. The thought of what could happen to me should I pop wood in the locker room frightened me, though. What was I going to do?

Another concern was the reason I had reacted the way I did with Chris. Sure, there was a physical attraction, but it wasn’t the same as you get if you see a picture in a porno mag or something. It was different: my mind was involved. I wasn’t certain if what had happened earlier that day was due to him being nearly naked, or him just being him.

Chris interrupted my thoughts with a knock on the open door. I hadn’t closed it when I came up. When I raised my eyes to look up at him, he wore a strange expression. He searched my face for a moment, then walked in and pulled the desk chair closer to my bed. A quick glance at the clock told me I’d been sitting there for over an hour staring at nothing.

"How long were you watching me?" I asked without preamble.

"A while," Chris replied. "You looked like you were thinking hard. Is it more about that thing?"

"Yeah, kinda. It’s like the more I think about it, the bigger it gets."

"What can I do to help you?"

"Just be normal, Chris," I replied. "I have to learn how to deal with it, and if you did something different, it wouldn’t help me."

Chris said, "Okay," and changed the subject. "Are you hungry?"

"Um, yeah, I am now."

"Me too. Let’s go raid the box," he said with an eager grin.

Practices on that Tuesday and Wednesday were repeats of the sessions on Monday. In the morning we ran our asses off and we ran through drills in the afternoon. More people were cut each day. By the end of practice Wednesday afternoon, the team had pretty much been chosen. Thursday morning we went into the weight room for the first time, where I followed the team through the routine. The coaches recorded the weights we were using on each exercise. We were told they would group us by lifting capacity on the exercises so we wouldn’t waste time swapping plates around in the future.

After practice on Thursday morning, Kathlene dropped Chris off at home and took me to see the counselor she’d chosen. The psychologist’s name was Ms. Baxter. She was in her mid- to late-thirties, and wore her hair severely tied back into a bun. Her thick rimmed glasses combined with her features gave her a rather imposing, cold aspect.

Kathlene said she’d pick me up in an hour, and left me with the shrink. I walked around Ms. Baxter’s small office, observing the knick-knacks and book titles she had placed in the bookshelves. There were four chairs and a couch in the room. One chair sat behind her desk, two more sat along the back wall of the office, and the fourth was obviously the counselor’s preferred seat and more centrally positioned. I took one of the seats in the back of the room facing the door and slouched into it in an attempt to get comfortable.

When I finally really looked at her I couldn’t read her expression. She seemed vaguely hostile, but I couldn’t tell you exactly why. She sat down in her seat and turned it to face me. When she spoke, the timbre of her voice was in direct opposition to her appearance and expression. She spoke softly without hurry and in a friendly tone.

"Welcome, Brian," she said through a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes.

I watched her without responding until she continued.

"Kathlene has told me that you didn’t really want to come in today."

I shrugged and dropped my eyes to my hands in my lap.

"Why did she want you to come to see me, Brian?"

I shrugged again. Something about this woman screamed danger to me. It wouldn’t be safe to talk to her about anything that mattered. Glancing up at her, her eyes bored into mine. I quickly lowered my eyes again, not because I was intimidated, but because I was afraid I would give something away. My knee started bouncing. I never did that unless I was really nervous.

"Let me tell you what she has told me, and you can tell me if she is right. She told me that you aren’t living with your family anymore because of something that happened between you and your parents. Is that true?"

Another shrug.

"You feel your parents did something to you?"

A quick glare answered her question.

"What did they do? It must be something pretty huge for you to run out on your parents."

"They betrayed me!" I shouted as I glared at her again.

I chastised myself in my thoughts. God damn the woman. She provoked me and I fell right into it. C’mon, Brian, you’re smarter than that.

I dropped my eyes again and crossed my arms.

"How did they betray you? Did they lie to you?"

"No."

"Did they hurt you physically?"

"No."

"Then it must be emotional. Kathlene told me you went to the hospital last summer. Care to talk about it?"

"No."

Ms. Baxter sat forward and leaned her elbows on her knees.

"Who is Pete, Brian?"

My jaw tightened immediately. No, I thought. No, no, no, no, NO! Leave him out of this!

I shrugged again and shifted uncomfortably. How much had Kathlene told her?

"He meant a lot to you, didn’t he? He was a good friend. A very good friend. How close to him were you?"

I shrugged yet again and turned my head away from her in a vain attempt to hide a tear. How could Kathlene tell her all these things. She knows I was having a hard time living from day-to-day without having a reminder of what I’d lost.

"Are you gay, Brian?"

I shot out of my chair and roared, "Fuck you! I’m out of here," and started for the door. Kathlene had crossed the line this time. She had no right to tell this stranger about my problems! None! Tears formed as the realization I’d been betrayed again struck home.

"Brian, wait. Please sit down," Ms. Baxter said with a pleading note in her voice.

"You have five seconds to tell me why I should, or I’m going through that door!" I warned loudly.

"I’m only trying to understand what’s going on with you, Brian. I want to help you. Kathlene is worried about you. Your family is worried about you. They want you home. They miss you, Bri..."

"They should have thought about that before they..." I was raving and I knew it. I swallowed hard to regain control. "I’m gone."

"Are you afraid to be gay?"

"Who said I was gay?" I asked, trying to avoid the question. "Kathlene?"

"Does it matter?"

"God damn right!" I yelled angrily, staring bullets at her.

The psychologist studied me as I stood before the door fuming, weighing her options. After a short while, she spoke again.

"Kathlene told me that you were very angry with your parents and gave me a brief description of what happened. She didn’t tell me anything personal."

"Then who said I was gay?"

"After Kathlene called me to set up this appointment," she prevaricated, "I took some time to find out more about you."

"Quit stalling! Who?" I demanded.

"I spoke with your parents..." Baxter began.

"I shoulda fuckin’ known," I grated.

Without another word, I walked out of the office, turning a deaf ear to the counselor’s repeated calls for my return.

I couldn’t believe it. My fucking parents still hadn’t learned to stay out of my life. They must have told her everything they thought they knew. It had been six months since I had seen anyone in my family, and now it felt like I never wanted to see them again.

Since I was already in my sweats from the morning practice, I set off for the practice field to wait for the afternoon practice. It was at least ten miles but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to never care again.

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