Page 23 of Cleats and Pumps

“Yeah, we’re okay,” I said, and life went back to the way it was, although a part of my heart had been left under that honeysuckle bush.

8

Amos

Iwascalledintothecoach’s office after practice, and when I sat down, I knew something was up. “We need to talk, Amos,” he said, his face flushed and serious. “You need to know you’re being scouted by the NFL.”

I smiled. “Really? I mean, I was hoping, but really?”

The old man didn’t smile. “Yeah, but what you did, getting yourself into the school paper about—”

I knew instantly what he was talking about, and I was getting pissed. I also knew it wouldn’t do to let my frustration out in front of my coach. He wasn’t a liberal man, and I still wanted to play.

“I know things are changing, Amos,” he said, “but not in football. Here’s how I’ve played it off. You are a drama major, and this was part of an assignment…” I stood to interrupt him when he put his hand up. “I knew you were gay when I recruited you to play here, and you haven’t pushed that boundary much, which is good because your teammates would blast you out if they knew. I want you to make it in the NFL, but you can’t be out and do it. Son, you just can’t.”

My dad had that very conversation with me two years ago, so I couldn’t say I didn’t know it was coming. That didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed as hell. I decided it was best not to respond, so I turned to go instead.

“I’ve talked to the scouts already. They said if that’s how it went down, they’ll make sure it doesn’t interfere with your prospects, but don’t do any more drag shows, son, and no more gay bars or anything that would out you in the future or I can promise you, you’ll never be recruited.”

I walked out without responding. Anger coursed through me as I left. I didn’t shower like I usually would. Instead, I grabbed my bag and walked back to my room. I’d left my car there, knowing the cold, wet day was what I needed to calm down.

Luckily, most of the anger had receded when I got to the frat house, and waving off the initiates who sat in the living room, I darted up to my room, hoping to God to find Tommy or Owen.

When neither were there, I stripped and got into the shower. I came out and fell into bed before I found my phone and decided to call my brother, Josiah.

“Well, if it isn’t the all-star himself,” he answered, always the smartass.

“Yeah, some fucking all-star,” I said.

“What’s up? You sound mad.”

“I was just told I either closet up or give up my chances for the NFL.”

Josiah was quiet for a long time. “It sucks, but I think that’s probably accurate.”

“Fuck accurate. You mean in this day and age, an athlete can’t be himself?”

“Yeah, it sucks, brother, but even in my line of work, I won’t be able to be out if I want to work with football players.”

“So you’ve decided to go for the law degree after all?” I asked.

“Yeah, I want to be an agent eventually, and the law degree will help with contracts and negotiations. At least that’s what my advisor tells me.”

“I hate the law,” I said, and Josiah laughed.

“You hate academia in general; that’s why you’re the jock, and I’m the brains.”

“Shut up, idiot. I’ve got brains too.”

Josiah laughed. “You have muscles, and you have skill, and you have a lot of positive assets, but you suck at studying worse than anyone I’ve ever met. You certainly have brains, but you choose not to use them.”

“Don’t be stereotyping me, Josiah. I don’t have to fit into anyone’s peg holes.”

Josiah grew serious then. “I wish that was true, and maybe after you make it big, you can change things, but for now—”

He let the statement sit there. I knew he was right. We both did.

“Josiah?” I asked.

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