Page 31 of Strong Side

We obliterated the first set, twenty-one to five. We’re on our sideline resting between side switches. It’s currently fourteen to two. “Let’s see if you can serve us out of the game, Clay. I bet you can.” I give him a wink, and this man blushes. He hates the praise, but the challenge… he can’t turn down.

“I’ll try,” he says on a huff.

The ref blows the whistle, and he turns quickly, but I give him a slap on the ass before he can get too far. “You’re looking good back behind that line,Garotão.”

He looks at me over his shoulder, blushing. After giving him another smirk, I follow him back onto the court, getting into position.

He does his normal serve routine, hits the ball twice to knock the sand off, two spins, but when he throws it up, his toss looks off to me, and I know it is when it slams into the net.

He never misses his serve…

I walk up to him, slap his hand, and say, “It’s okay! Keep your head up!”

He hangs his head, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“Clay, it’s okay. We’re up eleven points; we’re doing just fine.”

The taller one on the other team is serving again, and it goes straight to Clay. I’m already moving toward the net to grab the set. He passes it beautifully to me before he's running up to take a middle hit. He yells out a two, so I jump and set it low; we’re basically jumping at the same time, and he’s practically hitting it out of my hands. Their smaller guy isn’t even jumping to block him yet. It hits in the wide open back corner.

I pick him up, spinning us around while screaming, “LET’S FUCKING GO!”

“Shit, that was a good set, Baby!” My eyes widen at the public slip of the pet name, but neither of us comment on it further. It really was a good set, though. Now that we’re on the same wavelength, we’re such a good pair. It pisses me off that we haven’t played together for the past three years.

I ended up serving the game out after that. Every fiber in me knows that that one word, that one little slip-up, that one “Baby” was the match that lit the fire deep inside of me. And every time Clay cheered for me, it was like adding gasoline to the flames. I want to be able to do that for him, too… if he’d let me.

We shake hands with the other team, and I pat the refs on the back, always trying to be respectful of them. Dragging Clay by the hand, I pull across the court to finally meet my parents, who are still patiently waiting in the stands. I hear him talking to me through clenched teeth, “Rocky, what are you doing?”

We’re in front of my parents and Liliana, my sister, before I excitedly introduce him to my family. “This is my partner, Clayton. But he goes by, Clay.” I feel him stiffen under the arm I’ve slung over his shoulder, but I keep going. “This is my mom, Cassandra; my dad, Joseph; and my baby sister, Liliana.”

“It’s so nice to meet you all.” He reaches hishand toward my mom.

She shoos his hand away. “We’re a hugging family, Amor.Come here.” She pulls him into one of the big hugs she’s known for. My heart swells at her already giving him a nickname. My family have always been the most accepting people, and it’s something my mother ingrained in me too. I know that’s exactly how they’ll treat Clay… no matter what he is to me.

Both of my parents preached “you never know what someone is going through behind closed doors.” Some peoples lives can look so put together, and they can have anything they’ve ever wanted, but they are surrounded by people who only see them as that—not for who they really are. A person lacking love and true connections with others. Or it could be the opposite… the person you’re not accepting or bullying could have nothing. No food, clothes, or even a roof over their heads, but no one wants to take time out of their day to actually help them.

I’m so thankful for growing up around parents that never treated anyone different. Until you know the true feelings and intentions behind someone’s actions, you have no clue what they go through day in and day out. It still makes me feel like a piece of shit for judging Clay before really knowing what he fought with and how his father treats him. All I saw was him flaunting around his shit, but now I know that he's so much more than a guy that grew up with rich parents.

I hear him mumbling and apologizing for being sweaty and sandy, but my mom couldn’t care less. She pushes him away by his shoulders but holds him at a distance, looking him over. With the most motherly tone, she tells him, “You did so good out there, Clayton. I can’t get over how well you two play together.” I chuckle to myself. The sand's not the only place we play well together. But I decide that’s best to keep to myself.

“Okay, Momma, we’ve gotta go shower. Did you all drive separately so I can have a car to drive home?”

“Yeah, here you go.” My Dad tosses the keys to his car to me.

“Clay, I hope you didn’t think you were getting out of coming over for dinner?” my mom asks him.

“I would love a home-cooked meal, Mrs. Campos.”

“Now, Clay, none of that ‘Mrs. Campos’ stuff! Call me Cassandra, Cass, or even Momma.”

I start to head to the outdoor showers, pulling Clay with me and yelling over my shoulder, “We’ll see you at home.”

I’m starting to worry that my family’s excessive love and affection might be a little bit too much for him to handle. Nothing like diving into the deep end, I suppose.

1. Too Sweet - Hozier

20

Friends? Partners? Teammates?

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