Page 139 of Sweat

Tone perking a bit, Mav answers, “Yeah, that’ll be nice.”

Ma tells Mav to come sit with her so Rowan can eat, and the simple acknowledgment of Rowan’s comfort level from my mother gives me another reason to smile.

As soon as Rowan’s lap is empty, I can rest my hand on his leg and keep it there while my other one works on getting some food into my empty belly. I try to eat quick. Regardless of Rowan’s patience, I’m pretty sure I’m running behind. The service is at noon sharp. At the church where my family would go to every Christmas and Easter.

I must be making my nerves especially obvious, because Rowan firms his hold on the back of my neck and says, “Take your time, baby. Nothing’s gonna start without you.”

Feeling more appreciation for him than I can ever properly express, I have to settle for leaning sideways and pressing a syrupy kiss to his cheek. Just the fact he’s taking all this timeaway from his club to help me wallow through the greatest loss of my life means the world. I’m sure pro soccer clubs aren’t typically amenable to letting their star rookie players take a three-week hiatus in the middle of the season, but Rowan pulled it off like a magician. As soon as I called and said it was time, he was here the same day. Said he would stay as long is I need him.

I’ll always need Rowan, but we settled on three weeks, to give us time for a funeral and to pack up Mav and take him to his dad’s the way I promised Erica I would. Then we’ll pack up my shit, and I’ll finally move into the condo we picked out together.

A change of scenery will be good for me. It’ll be good for Mav, too, and the fact that we won’t be far apart calms my soul when I start to worry. Whenever he needs me, I’ll be there. An hour in the car is nothing. Just like Rowan has been visiting me every week, I can visit Mav just as often if he needs it, and there will always be space for him in San Jose.

To save time, I brush my teeth and shave my sad excuse for facial stubble in the shower, and I dress in the bathroom, sweating anew in itchy dress clothes. I wear my Vans, even if it’s inappropriate, because I can’t stand clunky dress shoes, and I really don’t think Erica would give a shit what’s on my feet at her funeral.

Mav rides with Ma in her car to the church, and Rowan takes us in his car. Still driving that old Legacy despite his new pro status. He says the clunker is too sentimental to part with; a speck of my year-old cum still stains the upholstered ceiling above my head.

We arrive just in the nick of time. Rowan always says fifteen minutes early is on time, but today, he doesn’t say a word about us rolling into the church at five past noon. He was right too.Nothing began without us. Everyone here is still milling about, quietly chatting and settling into their seats. While Ma talks with the pastor, I pick Mav up and walk with Rowan to the first pew of the quaint church.

There are people here I know, I’m sure of it, but I don’t acknowledge anyone. I’ll let Ma be the designated mingler if that’s what she wants, but I’m just not interested. Not interested in thanking everyone for being here when it’s such a monumentally shitty thing that we have to be here at all. That my sister is dead.

The only people I hold focus on are sitting on either side of me. Got an arm slung around Mav’s shoulders to keep him at my side, and I've got a hand holding Rowan’s on top of my thigh.

The other day, the pastor asked if I was preparing to say a few words at the podium, but I can’t. I’m no public speaker even on a good day. It’s not something I’m cut out for, and I don’t think Erica’s spirit will mind if I keep my thoughts of her tucked in my heart where they’ll always be safe.

“Hey,” Rowan whispers beside my ear. “If you ever need a break, it’s okay.”

I get what he’s saying, but even if everyone understood, I can’t be the guy who leaves in the middle of his sister’s funeral because he can’t handle his emotions. “I’m good.”

Giving my hand a pulse, he smiles tentatively and nods.

Ma speaks. It’s beautiful. Erica would have appreciated it, especially the part where Ma apologizes for not being a more thoughtful and well-equipped mother, but despite their combativeness, Ma and Erica loved each other.

I don’t cry. I already did all that. Shed so many tears it’s a wonder I didn’t wither up and die of dehydration. Days and nights spent huddled in bed, sweating and crying, with Rowanholding me like a baby, even after I’m certain his limbs went numb from my weight. I was lost, but I found my way back with Rowan as my guide. The first time we made love after Erica’s passing, I burst into tears as I came. Not from grief, but from how fucking grateful I was to have him here. I’ll never forget that.

After the service, everyone stands, and I become more aware of the surrounding faces. Some are strangers to me, some are semi-familiar, and some are so familiar it puts an extra pang in my chest. Some guys from the team showed up, and they play the awkward dance of apologizing to me for my loss while congratulating Rowan on his success. But I’d much rather talk about the Earthquakes than my grief and how I’m “holding up.”

Some of my friends from the Queer Alliance appear and offer similar sentiments to the ones they texted to me in the group chat last week. Feels better in person, when I can see it in their eyes that they really are sorry for my loss. I get hugs from Indy, Chuck and his boyfriend, Javi, and Oscar, who swings his arms around me and Rowan at the same time. The fact Rowan is enduring a group hug right now shows he’s on his best behavior. Doesn’t even squirm.

Rowan’s family is here, too, and the hugs keep on coming. Olive gives me a picture she drew for me. All happy things. Flowers, sunshine, and her whole family. Including Rowan, plus me. There’s no sorrow in my tears as I say thank you and give Olive an extra hug.

When I realize Annalese is here, I’m not sure how to feel. While I’ve been content not having her in my life anymore, the fact of the matter is that Erica really liked Lese. Hell, Erica wanted me tomarryLese. Turn her into a Mathison to keep me from ending up a lonesome wreck. But a lonesome wreckis exactly what I was until I tethered myself to the love of my life the night I punched him in the face over something Lese did.

“Tom,” she calls me, hands tucked into the pockets of her plain black dress, her plain black heels carrying her cautiously toward me. “I’m so sorry.”

Still holding Rowan’s hand, I send him a glance to gauge his discomfort before I commit to a convo with my ex. Lese looks the same as when we dated, though less flashy maybe. She’s not trying too hard to look hot anymore, but in hindsight, she was probably doing that for me, because she thought I’d want her more if she kept her makeup on point and her fashion trendy.

“Thanks,” I mutter. “Thanks for coming. Erica would appreciate it. You helped her a lot for a while there.”

With a tight smile, Lese nods like she’s well aware. She looks beside me, and her smile drifts away with the words, “Hi, Rowan. I saw your premier match on TV. Seemed like you did really well.”

“Thanks,” he mutters with about the same melancholic disinterest as my tone is laced with.

“The announcers were saying you could be the next Messi.”

“Hopefully I’ll start getting paid like Messi soon,” Rowan answers. “San Jose ain’t cheap, and I’ve got a growing boy to feed.”

My eyes tick wider, and my face reddens, knowing he’s talking about me. Thankfully, Lese just looks confused and doesn’t press for context.

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