Page 31 of Off Sides

“Texas Roadhouse rolls are far superior to Olive Garden breadsticks!” Oiler says with a mouthful of…something.

“Nothing beats Red Lobster’s Cheddar Bay Biscuits, is all I’m saying!” Albrooke yells.

“Neither of you should be eating this much bread,” Carmichael says, but everyone ignores him.

“Adding cheese to anything makes it better!” Oiler scoffs.

“Not pie,” Johnson retorts.

“Cheddar cheese on apple pie is pretty good, actually,” Oiler says.

“I don’t think I would like cheese on cake or ice cream,” I offer.

Oiler groans and tosses his head back. “You guys are missing the entire point. We’re talking about bread, not desserts!”

“How about you shove more food in your mouth and shut up,” Carmichael says.

“Why don’t you make me?” Albrooke turns to Carmichael and the look they share is terrifyingly sexy.

“Make sure you guys are packed for tomorrow.” I take a bite out of my apple and Carmichael turns back to the table, but Albrooke has a flush on his cheeks that I don’t want to think too much about.

Bryce chuckles but doesn’t chime in to the chat, just eats and watches the chaos. The team really is a bunch of good guys this year. The young ones are very young but they aren’t troublemakers. Carmichael is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, but I’m starting to think he means well.

All in all, I’m proud to say I’m on the team with these guys and I’ll miss them next year when I’m forced into the working world.

My phone starts ringing and I hold my breath as I pull it from my pocket. Charlotte. Shit.

“I gotta take this,” I say, not waiting for a response, and leave the loud dining hall as I accept the call. “Hey, Char, what’s up?”

“I swear to God!” she yells in my ear. “I don’t know how you did this for so damn long but I’m going to kill Matt, maybe Mom too!”

I close my eyes and lean back against the rough stone wall. I hate that the pressure of taking care of Matt has fallen on her shoulders since I left. Guilt eats at me for leaving her. She doesn’t deserve to be responsible for him. She’s twenty-four and should be living it up with her friends, establishing a career, and getting married. Instead she’s pulled back into cleaning up our brother’s mess, all while Mom does nothing to help and even accuses her of not doing enough.

“What happened this time?”

“He was court ordered to go to AA, right? Well, he showed up drunk and pissed in a plastic plant in the meeting hall. Piss everywhere!” She’s so angry I can picture steam coming out her ears. He’s a fucking mess and guilt weighs heavy on me for that too. “Guess who they called to come clean it up? Me! And I had to take him home. They told me I was lucky they didn’t call the police and have him arrested for public indecency and public intoxication. Lucky! Do you believe that shit?!”

“I’m sorry, Char, I would have taken care of it if I were there.” My shoulders fall and I want to slide down the wall to sit on the ground, but I don’t. “Just a few more months and I can move back home and try to find a job. Then it won’t be on you to deal with all this.”

“That’s not the point! Neither of us should be dealing with Matt’s bullshit. If Mom doesn’t want him falling on his ass, then she needs to be the one to deal with him.”

I nod, though I know she can’t see me. She’s right. Mom should have always been stepping up and taking care of her kids, but instead she buried herself in work. I don’t really blame her. The medical bills from Dad’s treatment and the funeral costs were insane, but she checked out on us. Somewhere along the way, she blamed us for not being perfect, for having trauma and scars. I waited as long as I could to go to college. I found a team I could play on close to home that wouldn’t ruin my chances of getting into a good school. While I was there, I honed my skills, and made sure my brother graduated high school before I left. Fuck, I even got him a job, but it all fell apart when I moved out.

Now he’s found himself at the bottom of a fucking bottle and he’s only twenty-two.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Her voice is quiet now. Tired. Sad. “I don’t want to bury him, Joey.”

Sadness clogs my throat at her words. She’s only a year younger than me, but she had to grow up too fast. In times like these, she’s a little girl again. Lost and in need of someone to give her a hug, tell her it’s going to be okay, that we’ll figure it out together, but I’m not there to do it.

“I don’t either.”

“He’s wasting away in front of me. He’s so much worse than the last time you were home.” She sniffles and it breaks my heart. “We’re going to lose him.”

“Just a few more months. I graduate in June and I’ll come home for spring interterm to help out.”

This right here is why I can’t date. I don’t have the time or the energy to give more of myself to someone. There’s nothing left. I’m being crushed under the weight of everyone else’s expectations. I don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be anymore.

11

---