Page 18 of Flagrant Foul
He’s getting worked up, so to defuse the situation, I adopt a similar tone to the one Nate often uses with great success. Stern yet kind. Firm but supportive. “Look, Tee, Nate and I both thin—”
His lids flutter over his eyeballs as he holds up a pale hand to silence me. There are fine lines on his palm. Some straight. Some swooping. Lines that are supposed to give glimpses into his head, his heart, and his life. They do no such thing.
“Shut up, Sev,” he says firmly.
He has a tendency to get testy in situations like this, so I’m expecting it. I know how to deal with it. All I have to do is stay calm and explain that Nate and I are coming from a place of concern, not control. “As I was saying, Nate and I both think—”
“What did I just say?” he snaps. “I mean it. Stop with that ‘Nate and I both’ crap. I’m not even sure it’scorrect grammar. I thinkbothis redundant and a simple ‘Nate and I think’ would suffice.”
“No, no,” I explain evenly. “The grammar is fine. In this instance, Nate and I are the subject of the sentence, and we’re performing the action of thinking together, hence my use ofboth.”
“Oh, you’reperforming the action of thinking, are you? I highly doubt that.”
I snort without meaning to and quickly press my lips together to stop myself from laughing.
It’s shit like this that Nate and I can’t help finding funny even though we know we shouldn’t encourage him. When we laugh, it makes him think he can keep getting away with it. We fucked up by pandering to him when he was younger, and now we can’t get him to stop.
He throws himself onto the couch with a little more flair than strictly required and puts his feet up on the coffee table as I start carrying bags and boxes in.
I’ve been in his apartment lots of times when Nate’s in town, so I know my way around. The living area is vast, a sea of dark timber flooring and muted cyan-blue walls. Combined with the sculptural brass lighting, the space has a modern, albeit moody feel. It’s not what you’d expect from a classic coastal penthouse apartment, but it works.
The bedrooms, study, and bathrooms are down the hall. It’s darker here, less hospitable than the living area. In the past, when I’ve been here, I’ve only ventured as far as the guest bathroom, and even that felt like I was encroaching on a space not meant for me. I feel the same now, and the feeling only grows stronger the farther I venture down the hall. Goalie helmets are mounted on the walls on either side of me. They’re helmets Teddy has worn in the past, and they tell the story of his progression—in his career and in life.
There’s something oddly macabre about it. It looks like a graveyard of sorts. A cemetery of safety equipment. Empty cages that once housed his skull, now out on display.
As always, I have an urge to touch them. To tap them lightly with the nails of two or three fingers as I pass. Thankfully, my hands are full, so it’s easy enough to resist.
I enter the guestroom Teddy’s roommates have occupied in the past, and drop the bags I’m carrying on the floor near the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so that’s good. A California King that’s been stripped down to the mattress. There’s no bedding. At least not any place where I can see it. No mattress protector. No sheets. No pillows.
And he said he wasn’t expecting me.Ha!Like hell he wasn’t.
How is he?
He’s being a brat.
We spoiled him, Nate. It’s our fault he’s like this.
Nate hits that with a crying with laughter emoji and replies:
It is.
Don’t worry. He’ll get used to the idea of you being there soon enough.
And thanks, bud. I feel so much better knowing you’re there.
Nate’s been worried about Teddy for a few weeks. He has this weird, tingling sense when something is up with his brother. Once he gets it into his head that something is wrong with Teddy, he can’t relax until he’s positive the problem has been resolved. It’s one of those strange family dynamics that repeats itself over and over: Nate worries, Teddy gets cagey, Nate gets more worried. Then I get involved.
It inevitably ends with Teddy getting pissed off with both of us.
It’s a vicious cycle.
He’s been stressed about his fish, but that’s worked out now.
I delete the message without sending it. There’s no need to relay the minutiae of Teddy’s life to Nate. It’s one of the things we do that rightfully pisses him off. If I’m going to be living with him, I’ll need to be sparing about that kind of thing.
When I’ve unpacked as much as I can handle for the day, I collapse the empty boxes and carry them out.
“Find everything you need?” Teddy asks when he sees me.
