Hey Guys,
So I've taken the past month or so to develop this three part story. I'll post them all at once, so you can read it beginning to end and not have to check back. Please let me know what you think, either by mail or as a comment. I appreciate and acknowledge all criticism (and compliments, of course)! I'm always striving to get better at this craft.
DISCLAIMER: This is a romantic story based on fictional events. Any characters mentioned as being in High School are assumed to be eighteen or older.
Enjoy, Blake
Chapter 1 – Home Opener
Jesse lay in bed staring at the ceiling as the fog of nine beers slowly lifted with the morning sun. His hand grazed a warm body beside him. A young man with spray-tan skin, and a neatly groomed chest, a mop of blond hair on top of his head. The opposite of who he usually went for. Thoren? Or Tharen? They’d met the night before at a gay dance that Jesse’s friend Myra had brought him too. He continually played Myra’s wingman at these events, and while he tried to resist, perpetually found himself indulging whichever beau found him at the bar.
He breathed a heavy sigh and rolled over to look at the clock. Eleven forty-two. Shit. He was late for an eleven-thirty group meeting at the University. They could wait. He rolled out of bed and scratched his back, standing and turning back around. Thoren was awake.
- Hey mister.
It was something he hated in twinks. The nickname felt so tripe and meaningless, although he was sure it was intended to seem romantic.
- Hey…
- It’s Tharen.
- Right. I have a meeting to run off to. So.
- I’ll just grab some water and get going…it’s fine.
Jesse smiled gently and b-lined for the bathroom. Taken care of.
In the mirror Jesse surveyed the damage. His thick brown hair was a wreck, the pomade Myra had used the night before had warped it into a birds nest. Jesse had played football in High School, and while he still hit the gym at least twice a week, his body wasn’t as fit as it used to be. He yawned and scratched his chest, pulling down his boxers and stepping out of them. He noticed a male arrow symbol on his hip, the stamp from the dance last night. In a flash he remembered a pierced and tattooed man at the door eyeing him, and demanding that he put the stamp somewhere “interesting”. It was a flirtation Jesse could never get used to, being born with the kind of looks most gay men only lust over in magazines. The body he used to admire now shamed him. This wasn’t the man he wanted to be. It wasn’t the man he was.
The gay community in Concordia was a small one, but they were loud. Marches and protests, banners and flags, it seemed every week there was a new cause, a new celebration, a new excuse for a theme and a party. It was a world that Jesse never felt a part of, and was the reason he still felt closeted. He wasn’t, really. His friends all knew, even his mother back home in Hennington knew, it just wasn’t something he felt the need to proclaim from the rooftops. Being identified by his sexuality was a concept Jesse had never subscribed to. Rather than being known among friends as “The Gay One”, he would prefer to be known as the nice one, or the funny one, or the one who was good at football, or freehand. And yet this resistance was turning him into the stereotype he detested: jaded, cynical, and with a new man every week.
Jesse stepped into his shower and let the hot water cascade over his body and hair. He looked down at the male symbol, and took careful attention to wipe any traces of it from his body. Navy blue streaks down his leg, swirling into the water which pooled below.
There was a part of Jesse that wanted a wife. Or maybe the concept alone; marriage, children, white picket fence, in-laws over for Thanksgiving. He would sit in High School and watch as is friends loved and lost, dated just to get their hearts broken, and he was strangely jealous. He wanted to feel that ache for someone, that tinge in his heart that flickered every time they left the room. To belong to someone. It was this need that, even today, often left a man like Tharen in his bed, and the traces of a guilty conscience washed away in his shower water.
In the kitchen, Tharen slung his backpack over his shoulder and finished one last sip of water before turning to the door. The phone rang. He hesitated for a moment, looking back to the shower, considered answering. It rang again, and Tharen turned back towards the door as the answering machine turned on. The muffled voice of an older woman.
- Hello Jesse. It’s your mother. I wanted to—uh. We need to talk. Please call me back, or—no. Jesse it’s your father. He’s…your father has passed away, Jesse. And we need you here. I need you. So…when you get this, call me. Please. I love you.
The soft click, and the kitchen was consumed in silence. Tharen stood in the open doorway, sick. Slowly, he closed the door and stepped back into the kitchen, as Jesse walked out of the bathroom in a towel.
- Hey man…are you good? Need some cab fare or something?
- Jesse. Um. Your mother just called. There’s a message.
When Jesse heard his mother’s voice he knew what had happened. It was the call he’d anticipated since his father had his first heart attack the year prior. He thanked Tharen for staying, but quickly ushered him out of the apartment, knowing that his nonplussed demeanor would strike him as odd. Jesse’s relationship with his father was a rocky one, and the gap that existed between them was widened to a vanishing point when he left Hennington for good.
Twenty minutes and two phone calls later, Jesse found himself on the road in his Jeep, headed back towards the city he hadn’t seen in four years. He breathed heavy as he entered the city limits, seeing the same landmarks, the same signs, anticipating the fact that nothing had changed. It reminded Jesse of something from television, this pop-art world from the 50’s, a saturated underworld of a city, perfect and glossy. The church, the hospital, lush grass on the lawns, signs bright. He expected to see some kind of malt shop, or a drive-in theatre. Something eerie and welcoming about this city that he’d grown to detest.
He got in around eight, the sun had just set. As he passed Hennington High, his eye caught the bleachers at the back. The tall stadium lights on either side of the field. The din of the crowd, the smell of the grass, the night sky pierced with white light that shone down on his team. He pulled into angled parking that faced the rear of the bleachers. A flood of memories rushed at him, and he was there. September 2006. The home-opener.
They were the Hennington High Colts, maroon and gold, first in their division for the past twenty years, a legacy carried on through generations of local families. Everybody made it out to these games, and the pressure was always on. Jesse was the quarterback, and he was a crowd favorite. In front of him were Zach and Carson Mills, twin brothers who were his tackle and guard respectively, though together were his worst nightmare. Far to his left was his best friend Mitch, his wide receiver.
He made the call, and the ball flew back towards him, caught. His team launched into their play, the power of eighteen year old testosterone and sweat battering into their hearts as they tackled one another. Jesse looked for an opening. Mitch was down. Zach was nowhere to be seen, and as soon as Carson was open, he was being side-swiped by an enormous linebacker from the blue and white Saints. A quick glance to the sideline, where Coach Wood swung his arms wildly and screamed ‘Run! Run!’.
Rob Wood had been Jesse’s coach since Grade 10, and was a favorite among students as one of the youngest teachers there. He was able to level with the boys in his gym class because he was one of them only a few years ago. Quarterback at the same school; a part of the legacy. And for this reason, the community had embraced him just the same as their hero, leading their sons to victory. To Jesse, this man was an idol. He’d first noticed his picture on one of the graduate placards from years ago. When he learned that Mr. Wood would be his gym teacher, he was thrilled. It was the older brother he never had. Or maybe the father he wished he’d had.
And so he ran. Sprinting through an opening to the left, fifteen yards out. A Saints guard leaped out from his left, but he darted out ahead, and was in the end zone. The crowd leapt to their feet, as Jesse’s fellow players mauled him from behind, knocking him to the ground in celebration. It was the first game of their senior year, and the first win of many to come. They all knew.
When the crowds began to dissipate and the boys made their way to the locker room, Jesse was alone on the bench, gathering his things. A firm hand on his shoulder.
- You did it, Fletcher. Nice work.
- Thanks Coach.
- Are you heading over to our place now? Alice bought Coke.
- No shit! Coke, what a thrill.
- Well I bought beer for myself, but it’s not my fault if I happen to leave some in the garage fridge and the kids get a hold of it.
Coach grinned and Jesse laughed.
- See you there, Coach Wood.
And Jesse ran off into the lockers. Rob sat on the bench alone, surveying the field. He had been the quarterback of the Colts a decade ago, when he was Jesse’s age. Now at twenty-eight, it seemed nothing had changed. He was still in Hennington, still drove the same car, still went to the same damn school. But he loved it. The field still smelled the same. Still reminded him of the glory he felt winning, a glory that he could still feel when coached his team to victory.
At home, Rob’s girlfriend Alice had set up pop and chips for the boys. Rob had met Alice when she was hired at Hennington High teaching English. Now they’d been living together for eight months, white picket fence, well on their way. He kissed her quickly and set his bag down in the kitchen.
- Hi baby, thanks for getting all this ready. The guys should be here any second now.
Rob took a chip and walked into the bedroom, stripping off his shirt and loosening his belt. Alice followed him in.
- No trouble. Great game coach.
Alice snuggled in behind her man and slid her hands around his torso, running her fingers through his chest hair, down his abs and into his pants.
- Honey, I don’t think we have time. Later though…later.
Alice paused. Then smiled. Patience. They hadn’t had sex in three weeks. A part of her considered that he might be having an affair, but the realistic part of her realized that school had begun, as well as practice, and he was swamped. This happened every year, or so she tried to rationalize. Alice sat on the bed and watched her boyfriend change into clean clothes for the party.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang, and a flood of twenty team members in groups of two and three filled the house. First to arrive were the twins, Zach and Carson, through Rob could never tell them apart. Jesse and Mitch arrived together, and were greeted with cheers. Time passed and music played as the group bonded, all the while surveyed by Rob and Alice. Rob even managed to sneak a beer or two into Jesse’s hands while the guys weren’t looking. As the boys played Rock Band in the living room, Rob went to the kitchen to grab some more chips. Alice pulled him aside.
- Jesse has a beer. I think he was stealing from the garage.
- Alice, it’s fine. He’s eighteen.
- I don’t care that he’s eighteen; I don’t want kids in our house getting drunk.
- I gave him the beer, okay?
- You what?
- I…gave him a beer. Kids are different today Alice, it’s fine. Honestly.
- We’re their teachers, Rob. You expect them to take us seriously when we just pal around with them like their buddies? You’re not eighteen anymore Rob.
- What? Look I’m sorry okay?
Alice shot him a stern look like he should know better.
- I’m going to bed. Can you clear them out pretty soon?
Rob nodded and sighed his way to the cupboard as Alice headed out. It was the side of her that he couldn’t stand. This mother that continually breathed down his neck about growing up. Sure, he realized that from time to time he clung to the past, and a part of him probably liked to live vicariously through his students, but it’s not like it was a problem. Frustrated, he grabbed a bag of chips, just as he heard a shout from the living room.
Running in, he saw Jesse on top of Zach Mills, his brother Carson getting up from the floor and throwing a punch at Jesse.
- Whoa! Guys, back off!
Rob ran in and pulled Jesse from the brawl.
- What’s going on?
Mitch sprang to Jesse’s defense.
- Zach was saying Jesse didn’t pass to him because he wanted the glory.
- I was open! Zach erupted.
Jesse loosened from Coach’s grasp.
- You were not! I didn’t see you anywhere. You think I wouldn’t have passed to you if I saw you were there? That doesn’t make sense.
- Fuck you, faggot. Just next time keep an eye out, some of us want to play too.
Rob winced at the word. It was a term he’d used when he was in school, but now seemed antiquated and terrifying. The reality that nothing had changed in a decade was a pang in Rob’s heart. Jesse was an anomaly. On one hand he was the school’s star quarterback, the quickest if not the strongest, older than the other boys, mature and intelligent and ready for the world. On the other hand he was an introvert, who would rather stay home and play Halo with Mitch than go out to a party. He never had a girlfriend, though it often seemed apparent to Rob that he had his pick. It was a point of contention among the team and Rob knew it, overhearing locker room discussion and name-calling. The assumption was if you didn’t have a girl, or you weren’t stalking one in the pursuit of sex, you were gay. Sometimes Rob would intervene, but sometimes would knowingly back off; boys will be boys. Gay or not, Mitch would need to figure things out on his own, for the day when Rob wouldn’t be there to stop it.
And as Rob pushed Zach against the wall, he realized he might have had one beer too many.
- Watch your language Mills. You boys head home.
Zach’s mind raced with something to say, some way to fight back, but he knew from so many other times that when Coach Wood laid down the law, it stuck. Zach and Carson left with the other boys, and eventually Mitch followed after checking in with Jesse.
Rob’s mind reeled as he considered what he’d just done. He’d vowed in the past to let things be, let Jesse learn on his own. As an adult, where is he supposed to draw the line? Let them drink, because they’re going to do it anyway. Let them fight, because they’ll only wait until you’re gone. But Jesse was different. He was his quarterback for the season, something to be protected, like a son. A part of Rob was Jesse, ten years ago, small pride, levelheaded ambition that didn’t care what people thought. But a part of him was Zach. Scraping and scrambling to not be last on the totem pole, frantically searching for a weaker, thinner scapegoat to shove into the spotlight. He hated this part of himself.
Jesse sat on the couch, his hands in his lap, his eyes avoiding Rob’s.
- You have a ride home, Jesse?
- Nah, I can walk though.
- It’s an hour, at least. Just crash here, Alice won’t mind. I’ll grab some blankets out of the closet.
As Rob walked back into the hall, he glanced into his bedroom to see Alice asleep on the bed. Honey I don’t think we have time. Later though…later. Another night gone.
He returned to the living room with a pillow and a navy blue comforter that he tossed beside Jesse who was still silent, contemplative.
- You don’t…let those guys get to you. Do you?
- No. They’re idiots.
- Good. I saw the play, Jesse, I know what you did. You should be proud.
But Jesse wasn’t proud, and Rob could see it. He was shattered. It was a cold feeling that was all too familiar to Rob, a face that he’d seen in himself after a loss. Suddenly the winning touchdown didn’t matter. The power of Zach’s influence was astounding. It made Rob furious to think that one little fuck-up like Zach Miller could get to someone like Jesse so easily. He searched for the words to say to comfort him.
- You were perfect out there today.
Rob stood and walked back towards the hallway, before being stopped by Jesse’s quiet voice.
- Thanks Coach. For everything.
Rob nodded approval, shut off the lights, and joined Alice in the bed, careful to not wake her.
Alice liked to sleep in late on Saturdays, a practice Rob had never gotten used to. So at the crack of dawn, he was up and in the kitchen. The sound of the percolating coffee stirred Jesse in his sleep. Rob looked over at him, the morning light illuminating his outstretched body on the sofa. He looked older than Rob had remembered.
His thick brown hair was a mess on his head, and traces of stubble lined his cheeks. His shirt had been tossed to the ground, and his broad chest rose and fell with each breath. One arm up above his head, revealing a thin patch of hair, the other arm stretched down his body. Rob stepped quietly closer to him, somehow curious to see Jesse in this way, unadulterated and unconcerned. He seemed happier in his sleep.
Rob noticed the blanket shift momentarily from beneath. His eyes darted down to Jesse’s erection, which now rested on his abdomen, tenting the blanket up slightly, pulsing with each heartbeat. Rob smiled, and somehow ignored his impulse to turn away back into the kitchen. This fascinating creature that he had once been, all hormones and heat, growing and shifting before his eyes. He watched as Jesse lowered a hand to his dick and grazed it slightly, his mouth falling agape and his eyes wincing slightly in pleasure. Rob backed into the hallway, glancing briefly into his room to see Alice still fast asleep. Then back to Jesse, whose hand now found its way under the sheet, wrapped around his erection, pumping very slowly, his head tossing to the side. Rob watched on.
In Jesse’s dream, he was in the locker room shower with the other guys. He was the only one naked, as they circled him like sharks, pointing and whispering. In the back, Coach appeared and suddenly everyone else was gone. Coach stood in the entryway to the showers, surveying the scene. He walked in, through the streams of hot water which dampened his clothes, sticking to his chest, wetting his hair. Coach grabbed Jesse’s cock and pulled him in for a deep kiss, and suddenly they were surrounded again. This time the team carried cameras. The flashbulbs went off in a series, but they didn’t care. Coach pulled Jesse in closer as they kissed, wrapped up in each other, electric pleasure shot through Jesse’s body.
He woke up with a jolt. Rob stepped back further into the hall to avoid being seen. He watched as Jesse quickly put his shirt back on, fumbled with his backpack and shoes. He glanced at the blanket which had been tossed to the ground, now damp with semen from the dream. Unsure of what to do, he shoved the blanket under the couch, and b-lined for the door.
After waiting a moment to make sure the coast was clear, Rob went back into the room, which was now thick with testosterone and sweat. He grabbed the blanket, unsure of what to do with it, but sure that he didn’t want Alice to find out. He felt a warm dampness on his hand, and was aware of how unphased he was by this. When he heard Alice shift in the bedroom, he quickly tucked the blanket into the chest where he kept his video games. Alice appeared in the entryway.
- Morning.
- Morning. Eggs or cereal?
- Ugh, neither. This new birth control is making me queasy.
She paused on that, and they both considered the implications. Then she backed into the hall and started the shower. Rob walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. The newspaper on the table, he sat and began leafing through it.
Flashing forward four years to present, Rob still sat at the same table on a Saturday morning. Alice still woke up an hour later than him, and was still taking the same birth control that made her lose her appetite. They still only had sex once a week, and he still felt like he should be somewhere else. Both now wore engagement rings on their left hands. Happy enough.
As Rob leafed through the paper, he noticed a familiar picture. Dennis Fletcher, Jesse’s father, had passed away. Survived by his son and his wife. Rob’s heart was heavy as he remembered that face in the stands, cheering on his son. It was the only time Rob had ever seen Dennis, was at a game. He’d never once ran into him at parent teacher interviews, not at any events, any fundraisers. And most notably, Jesse never mentioned him, would barely even talk to him after the games.
Still, Rob could see resemblance in their faces. He breathed heavy, realizing what this really meant. Jesse was twenty-two now, and his father was dead. Much too young. He hadn’t spoken to Jesse in nearly four years. Now he would be in town. Maybe he would try and find him? Maybe he would avoid the whole thing. Rob’s mind raced at the idea of seeing Jesse again. So much had passed between them, so much had remained unresolved since he graduated. Alice walked into the kitchen, and Rob flipped the page.
- I’m going to head off to Yoga. Are we still meeting with Carol and Mike for lunch?
- Yeah. I’ll…I’ll see you there.
Alice left immediately, and Rob quickly shuffled back to the obituary page, tearing out Dennis Fletcher’s article. He threw the rest of the paper in the bin, and made his way over to the living room, placing the square of paper into the same chest where he kept his video games. At the bottom lay a familiar blue blanket, folded neatly and covered from sight.
So I've taken the past month or so to develop this three part story. I'll post them all at once, so you can read it beginning to end and not have to check back. Please let me know what you think, either by mail or as a comment. I appreciate and acknowledge all criticism (and compliments, of course)! I'm always striving to get better at this craft.
DISCLAIMER: This is a romantic story based on fictional events. Any characters mentioned as being in High School are assumed to be eighteen or older.
Enjoy, Blake
Chapter 1 – Home Opener
Jesse lay in bed staring at the ceiling as the fog of nine beers slowly lifted with the morning sun. His hand grazed a warm body beside him. A young man with spray-tan skin, and a neatly groomed chest, a mop of blond hair on top of his head. The opposite of who he usually went for. Thoren? Or Tharen? They’d met the night before at a gay dance that Jesse’s friend Myra had brought him too. He continually played Myra’s wingman at these events, and while he tried to resist, perpetually found himself indulging whichever beau found him at the bar.
He breathed a heavy sigh and rolled over to look at the clock. Eleven forty-two. Shit. He was late for an eleven-thirty group meeting at the University. They could wait. He rolled out of bed and scratched his back, standing and turning back around. Thoren was awake.
- Hey mister.
It was something he hated in twinks. The nickname felt so tripe and meaningless, although he was sure it was intended to seem romantic.
- Hey…
- It’s Tharen.
- Right. I have a meeting to run off to. So.
- I’ll just grab some water and get going…it’s fine.
Jesse smiled gently and b-lined for the bathroom. Taken care of.
In the mirror Jesse surveyed the damage. His thick brown hair was a wreck, the pomade Myra had used the night before had warped it into a birds nest. Jesse had played football in High School, and while he still hit the gym at least twice a week, his body wasn’t as fit as it used to be. He yawned and scratched his chest, pulling down his boxers and stepping out of them. He noticed a male arrow symbol on his hip, the stamp from the dance last night. In a flash he remembered a pierced and tattooed man at the door eyeing him, and demanding that he put the stamp somewhere “interesting”. It was a flirtation Jesse could never get used to, being born with the kind of looks most gay men only lust over in magazines. The body he used to admire now shamed him. This wasn’t the man he wanted to be. It wasn’t the man he was.
The gay community in Concordia was a small one, but they were loud. Marches and protests, banners and flags, it seemed every week there was a new cause, a new celebration, a new excuse for a theme and a party. It was a world that Jesse never felt a part of, and was the reason he still felt closeted. He wasn’t, really. His friends all knew, even his mother back home in Hennington knew, it just wasn’t something he felt the need to proclaim from the rooftops. Being identified by his sexuality was a concept Jesse had never subscribed to. Rather than being known among friends as “The Gay One”, he would prefer to be known as the nice one, or the funny one, or the one who was good at football, or freehand. And yet this resistance was turning him into the stereotype he detested: jaded, cynical, and with a new man every week.
Jesse stepped into his shower and let the hot water cascade over his body and hair. He looked down at the male symbol, and took careful attention to wipe any traces of it from his body. Navy blue streaks down his leg, swirling into the water which pooled below.
There was a part of Jesse that wanted a wife. Or maybe the concept alone; marriage, children, white picket fence, in-laws over for Thanksgiving. He would sit in High School and watch as is friends loved and lost, dated just to get their hearts broken, and he was strangely jealous. He wanted to feel that ache for someone, that tinge in his heart that flickered every time they left the room. To belong to someone. It was this need that, even today, often left a man like Tharen in his bed, and the traces of a guilty conscience washed away in his shower water.
In the kitchen, Tharen slung his backpack over his shoulder and finished one last sip of water before turning to the door. The phone rang. He hesitated for a moment, looking back to the shower, considered answering. It rang again, and Tharen turned back towards the door as the answering machine turned on. The muffled voice of an older woman.
- Hello Jesse. It’s your mother. I wanted to—uh. We need to talk. Please call me back, or—no. Jesse it’s your father. He’s…your father has passed away, Jesse. And we need you here. I need you. So…when you get this, call me. Please. I love you.
The soft click, and the kitchen was consumed in silence. Tharen stood in the open doorway, sick. Slowly, he closed the door and stepped back into the kitchen, as Jesse walked out of the bathroom in a towel.
- Hey man…are you good? Need some cab fare or something?
- Jesse. Um. Your mother just called. There’s a message.
When Jesse heard his mother’s voice he knew what had happened. It was the call he’d anticipated since his father had his first heart attack the year prior. He thanked Tharen for staying, but quickly ushered him out of the apartment, knowing that his nonplussed demeanor would strike him as odd. Jesse’s relationship with his father was a rocky one, and the gap that existed between them was widened to a vanishing point when he left Hennington for good.
Twenty minutes and two phone calls later, Jesse found himself on the road in his Jeep, headed back towards the city he hadn’t seen in four years. He breathed heavy as he entered the city limits, seeing the same landmarks, the same signs, anticipating the fact that nothing had changed. It reminded Jesse of something from television, this pop-art world from the 50’s, a saturated underworld of a city, perfect and glossy. The church, the hospital, lush grass on the lawns, signs bright. He expected to see some kind of malt shop, or a drive-in theatre. Something eerie and welcoming about this city that he’d grown to detest.
He got in around eight, the sun had just set. As he passed Hennington High, his eye caught the bleachers at the back. The tall stadium lights on either side of the field. The din of the crowd, the smell of the grass, the night sky pierced with white light that shone down on his team. He pulled into angled parking that faced the rear of the bleachers. A flood of memories rushed at him, and he was there. September 2006. The home-opener.
They were the Hennington High Colts, maroon and gold, first in their division for the past twenty years, a legacy carried on through generations of local families. Everybody made it out to these games, and the pressure was always on. Jesse was the quarterback, and he was a crowd favorite. In front of him were Zach and Carson Mills, twin brothers who were his tackle and guard respectively, though together were his worst nightmare. Far to his left was his best friend Mitch, his wide receiver.
He made the call, and the ball flew back towards him, caught. His team launched into their play, the power of eighteen year old testosterone and sweat battering into their hearts as they tackled one another. Jesse looked for an opening. Mitch was down. Zach was nowhere to be seen, and as soon as Carson was open, he was being side-swiped by an enormous linebacker from the blue and white Saints. A quick glance to the sideline, where Coach Wood swung his arms wildly and screamed ‘Run! Run!’.
Rob Wood had been Jesse’s coach since Grade 10, and was a favorite among students as one of the youngest teachers there. He was able to level with the boys in his gym class because he was one of them only a few years ago. Quarterback at the same school; a part of the legacy. And for this reason, the community had embraced him just the same as their hero, leading their sons to victory. To Jesse, this man was an idol. He’d first noticed his picture on one of the graduate placards from years ago. When he learned that Mr. Wood would be his gym teacher, he was thrilled. It was the older brother he never had. Or maybe the father he wished he’d had.
And so he ran. Sprinting through an opening to the left, fifteen yards out. A Saints guard leaped out from his left, but he darted out ahead, and was in the end zone. The crowd leapt to their feet, as Jesse’s fellow players mauled him from behind, knocking him to the ground in celebration. It was the first game of their senior year, and the first win of many to come. They all knew.
When the crowds began to dissipate and the boys made their way to the locker room, Jesse was alone on the bench, gathering his things. A firm hand on his shoulder.
- You did it, Fletcher. Nice work.
- Thanks Coach.
- Are you heading over to our place now? Alice bought Coke.
- No shit! Coke, what a thrill.
- Well I bought beer for myself, but it’s not my fault if I happen to leave some in the garage fridge and the kids get a hold of it.
Coach grinned and Jesse laughed.
- See you there, Coach Wood.
And Jesse ran off into the lockers. Rob sat on the bench alone, surveying the field. He had been the quarterback of the Colts a decade ago, when he was Jesse’s age. Now at twenty-eight, it seemed nothing had changed. He was still in Hennington, still drove the same car, still went to the same damn school. But he loved it. The field still smelled the same. Still reminded him of the glory he felt winning, a glory that he could still feel when coached his team to victory.
At home, Rob’s girlfriend Alice had set up pop and chips for the boys. Rob had met Alice when she was hired at Hennington High teaching English. Now they’d been living together for eight months, white picket fence, well on their way. He kissed her quickly and set his bag down in the kitchen.
- Hi baby, thanks for getting all this ready. The guys should be here any second now.
Rob took a chip and walked into the bedroom, stripping off his shirt and loosening his belt. Alice followed him in.
- No trouble. Great game coach.
Alice snuggled in behind her man and slid her hands around his torso, running her fingers through his chest hair, down his abs and into his pants.
- Honey, I don’t think we have time. Later though…later.
Alice paused. Then smiled. Patience. They hadn’t had sex in three weeks. A part of her considered that he might be having an affair, but the realistic part of her realized that school had begun, as well as practice, and he was swamped. This happened every year, or so she tried to rationalize. Alice sat on the bed and watched her boyfriend change into clean clothes for the party.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang, and a flood of twenty team members in groups of two and three filled the house. First to arrive were the twins, Zach and Carson, through Rob could never tell them apart. Jesse and Mitch arrived together, and were greeted with cheers. Time passed and music played as the group bonded, all the while surveyed by Rob and Alice. Rob even managed to sneak a beer or two into Jesse’s hands while the guys weren’t looking. As the boys played Rock Band in the living room, Rob went to the kitchen to grab some more chips. Alice pulled him aside.
- Jesse has a beer. I think he was stealing from the garage.
- Alice, it’s fine. He’s eighteen.
- I don’t care that he’s eighteen; I don’t want kids in our house getting drunk.
- I gave him the beer, okay?
- You what?
- I…gave him a beer. Kids are different today Alice, it’s fine. Honestly.
- We’re their teachers, Rob. You expect them to take us seriously when we just pal around with them like their buddies? You’re not eighteen anymore Rob.
- What? Look I’m sorry okay?
Alice shot him a stern look like he should know better.
- I’m going to bed. Can you clear them out pretty soon?
Rob nodded and sighed his way to the cupboard as Alice headed out. It was the side of her that he couldn’t stand. This mother that continually breathed down his neck about growing up. Sure, he realized that from time to time he clung to the past, and a part of him probably liked to live vicariously through his students, but it’s not like it was a problem. Frustrated, he grabbed a bag of chips, just as he heard a shout from the living room.
Running in, he saw Jesse on top of Zach Mills, his brother Carson getting up from the floor and throwing a punch at Jesse.
- Whoa! Guys, back off!
Rob ran in and pulled Jesse from the brawl.
- What’s going on?
Mitch sprang to Jesse’s defense.
- Zach was saying Jesse didn’t pass to him because he wanted the glory.
- I was open! Zach erupted.
Jesse loosened from Coach’s grasp.
- You were not! I didn’t see you anywhere. You think I wouldn’t have passed to you if I saw you were there? That doesn’t make sense.
- Fuck you, faggot. Just next time keep an eye out, some of us want to play too.
Rob winced at the word. It was a term he’d used when he was in school, but now seemed antiquated and terrifying. The reality that nothing had changed in a decade was a pang in Rob’s heart. Jesse was an anomaly. On one hand he was the school’s star quarterback, the quickest if not the strongest, older than the other boys, mature and intelligent and ready for the world. On the other hand he was an introvert, who would rather stay home and play Halo with Mitch than go out to a party. He never had a girlfriend, though it often seemed apparent to Rob that he had his pick. It was a point of contention among the team and Rob knew it, overhearing locker room discussion and name-calling. The assumption was if you didn’t have a girl, or you weren’t stalking one in the pursuit of sex, you were gay. Sometimes Rob would intervene, but sometimes would knowingly back off; boys will be boys. Gay or not, Mitch would need to figure things out on his own, for the day when Rob wouldn’t be there to stop it.
And as Rob pushed Zach against the wall, he realized he might have had one beer too many.
- Watch your language Mills. You boys head home.
Zach’s mind raced with something to say, some way to fight back, but he knew from so many other times that when Coach Wood laid down the law, it stuck. Zach and Carson left with the other boys, and eventually Mitch followed after checking in with Jesse.
Rob’s mind reeled as he considered what he’d just done. He’d vowed in the past to let things be, let Jesse learn on his own. As an adult, where is he supposed to draw the line? Let them drink, because they’re going to do it anyway. Let them fight, because they’ll only wait until you’re gone. But Jesse was different. He was his quarterback for the season, something to be protected, like a son. A part of Rob was Jesse, ten years ago, small pride, levelheaded ambition that didn’t care what people thought. But a part of him was Zach. Scraping and scrambling to not be last on the totem pole, frantically searching for a weaker, thinner scapegoat to shove into the spotlight. He hated this part of himself.
Jesse sat on the couch, his hands in his lap, his eyes avoiding Rob’s.
- You have a ride home, Jesse?
- Nah, I can walk though.
- It’s an hour, at least. Just crash here, Alice won’t mind. I’ll grab some blankets out of the closet.
As Rob walked back into the hall, he glanced into his bedroom to see Alice asleep on the bed. Honey I don’t think we have time. Later though…later. Another night gone.
He returned to the living room with a pillow and a navy blue comforter that he tossed beside Jesse who was still silent, contemplative.
- You don’t…let those guys get to you. Do you?
- No. They’re idiots.
- Good. I saw the play, Jesse, I know what you did. You should be proud.
But Jesse wasn’t proud, and Rob could see it. He was shattered. It was a cold feeling that was all too familiar to Rob, a face that he’d seen in himself after a loss. Suddenly the winning touchdown didn’t matter. The power of Zach’s influence was astounding. It made Rob furious to think that one little fuck-up like Zach Miller could get to someone like Jesse so easily. He searched for the words to say to comfort him.
- You were perfect out there today.
Rob stood and walked back towards the hallway, before being stopped by Jesse’s quiet voice.
- Thanks Coach. For everything.
Rob nodded approval, shut off the lights, and joined Alice in the bed, careful to not wake her.
Alice liked to sleep in late on Saturdays, a practice Rob had never gotten used to. So at the crack of dawn, he was up and in the kitchen. The sound of the percolating coffee stirred Jesse in his sleep. Rob looked over at him, the morning light illuminating his outstretched body on the sofa. He looked older than Rob had remembered.
His thick brown hair was a mess on his head, and traces of stubble lined his cheeks. His shirt had been tossed to the ground, and his broad chest rose and fell with each breath. One arm up above his head, revealing a thin patch of hair, the other arm stretched down his body. Rob stepped quietly closer to him, somehow curious to see Jesse in this way, unadulterated and unconcerned. He seemed happier in his sleep.
Rob noticed the blanket shift momentarily from beneath. His eyes darted down to Jesse’s erection, which now rested on his abdomen, tenting the blanket up slightly, pulsing with each heartbeat. Rob smiled, and somehow ignored his impulse to turn away back into the kitchen. This fascinating creature that he had once been, all hormones and heat, growing and shifting before his eyes. He watched as Jesse lowered a hand to his dick and grazed it slightly, his mouth falling agape and his eyes wincing slightly in pleasure. Rob backed into the hallway, glancing briefly into his room to see Alice still fast asleep. Then back to Jesse, whose hand now found its way under the sheet, wrapped around his erection, pumping very slowly, his head tossing to the side. Rob watched on.
In Jesse’s dream, he was in the locker room shower with the other guys. He was the only one naked, as they circled him like sharks, pointing and whispering. In the back, Coach appeared and suddenly everyone else was gone. Coach stood in the entryway to the showers, surveying the scene. He walked in, through the streams of hot water which dampened his clothes, sticking to his chest, wetting his hair. Coach grabbed Jesse’s cock and pulled him in for a deep kiss, and suddenly they were surrounded again. This time the team carried cameras. The flashbulbs went off in a series, but they didn’t care. Coach pulled Jesse in closer as they kissed, wrapped up in each other, electric pleasure shot through Jesse’s body.
He woke up with a jolt. Rob stepped back further into the hall to avoid being seen. He watched as Jesse quickly put his shirt back on, fumbled with his backpack and shoes. He glanced at the blanket which had been tossed to the ground, now damp with semen from the dream. Unsure of what to do, he shoved the blanket under the couch, and b-lined for the door.
After waiting a moment to make sure the coast was clear, Rob went back into the room, which was now thick with testosterone and sweat. He grabbed the blanket, unsure of what to do with it, but sure that he didn’t want Alice to find out. He felt a warm dampness on his hand, and was aware of how unphased he was by this. When he heard Alice shift in the bedroom, he quickly tucked the blanket into the chest where he kept his video games. Alice appeared in the entryway.
- Morning.
- Morning. Eggs or cereal?
- Ugh, neither. This new birth control is making me queasy.
She paused on that, and they both considered the implications. Then she backed into the hall and started the shower. Rob walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. The newspaper on the table, he sat and began leafing through it.
Flashing forward four years to present, Rob still sat at the same table on a Saturday morning. Alice still woke up an hour later than him, and was still taking the same birth control that made her lose her appetite. They still only had sex once a week, and he still felt like he should be somewhere else. Both now wore engagement rings on their left hands. Happy enough.
As Rob leafed through the paper, he noticed a familiar picture. Dennis Fletcher, Jesse’s father, had passed away. Survived by his son and his wife. Rob’s heart was heavy as he remembered that face in the stands, cheering on his son. It was the only time Rob had ever seen Dennis, was at a game. He’d never once ran into him at parent teacher interviews, not at any events, any fundraisers. And most notably, Jesse never mentioned him, would barely even talk to him after the games.
Still, Rob could see resemblance in their faces. He breathed heavy, realizing what this really meant. Jesse was twenty-two now, and his father was dead. Much too young. He hadn’t spoken to Jesse in nearly four years. Now he would be in town. Maybe he would try and find him? Maybe he would avoid the whole thing. Rob’s mind raced at the idea of seeing Jesse again. So much had passed between them, so much had remained unresolved since he graduated. Alice walked into the kitchen, and Rob flipped the page.
- I’m going to head off to Yoga. Are we still meeting with Carol and Mike for lunch?
- Yeah. I’ll…I’ll see you there.
Alice left immediately, and Rob quickly shuffled back to the obituary page, tearing out Dennis Fletcher’s article. He threw the rest of the paper in the bin, and made his way over to the living room, placing the square of paper into the same chest where he kept his video games. At the bottom lay a familiar blue blanket, folded neatly and covered from sight.
