Page 108 of Reckless Hearts
But tonight, it just makes me feel hollower.
They don’t know me. They have no idea who I really am.
I have a craving to talk to Seb. But it’s midnight in New Zealand. I can’t wreck his sleep.
Instead, my brain focuses on the look of disappointment on Seb’s face when I said I didn’t want kids. It’s part of what I’ve always been so worried about with Seb. I will never be able to be what he deserves.
I close my eyes again, but images flash through my mind like a demented slideshow: Seb’s disappointed face, Jake’s knowingsmirk, my father’s face the last time I saw him, disgust etched into every line.
The darkness of the room amplifies every doubt, every fear. My heartbeat thunders in my ears, a relentless drumbeat that accompanies the churning in my mind.
I always work so hard to block off memories, but my resistance is low tonight, and the floodgates open.
A finger painting curling at the edges, colors fading in sunlight. Empty orange bottles lined up like dominoes on a marble counter. A lullaby, soft and lyrical. Water smelling of cold and moss and minerals. Footsteps growing fainter down a hallway, each step an accusation.
And then my father’s voice, words that never actually came out of his mouth, but his expressions, his actions, told me quite clearly.
You will never be enough. Nothing you do will make up for your sins.
I can’t take it anymore.
I need to make it stop.
I switch on the light and stumble into the lounge.
There, lying innocently on the coffee table, is the blister pack of pills Jake gave me.
As I stare at them, a memory of my mother’s face comes back to me. Her gaunt and haggard face, the desperation that seemed to be in her eyes when she gulped down her medication.
But I just need to sleep.
Everything will be so much better if I manage to get a decent night’s sleep.
With a shaky hand, I pop out a pill from the blister pack.
The pill in my hand is such a benign color. Baby pink.
Surely something this color should help me more than harm me, right?
I swallow the pill.
24
Seb
The university year begins in February with a frantic juggle of research and teaching classes. To make tenure, I need to publish scientific papers regularly in well-respected journals in my field.
My mother starts fretting I’m working too hard and not socializing enough.
To appease her, when I see a social media post about someone forming an LGBTQ+ team to play in a recreational soccer league, I decide to join.
I was pushed into playing soccer as a kid by my dad, who quickly realized my scrawny physique wouldn’t hold up on the rugby field.
I’d tolerated soccer then, but I find myself really enjoying it now. Mainly because the Rainbow Rascals turns out to be a great group of guys. I spend most of my time surrounded by either academics or conservationists or talking to Marcus, so it’s a nice change to interact with a diverse group of guys where the only things we have in common are our LGBTQ+ identity and enjoyment of soccer.
And there’s the added interest of the romance playing out in front of us, as two of our teammates, Tim and Jamie, are practically falling in love every week right before our eyes.
Tim is a science teacher, and Jamie works at the same school as him as the sports coordinator. There’s an age gap between them, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The way they look at each other… It’s like they’ve both discovered something precious and unexpected.
