Page 48 of Catching Kyle
I had tried dating women. I couldn’t do it. My head and heart hurt too much when it came to being intimate. I then decided to do the only other thing that could make the guilt go away. He always wanted to coach in the NFO and eventually reach the championships, but the pancreatic cancer got in the way.
So, I vowed to win the Championship Game in his honor.
Neeti uses her feet to pull her over to a box of tissues nearby. She scooches back and hands the box to me. I take it and use some tissues to wipe the tears off my face, but it’s no use. They just kept coming. I’m relieved to blow my stuffy nose, though.
“Sorry,” I say, wiping my eyes again. “I don’t usually do this.” Even though I had just balled my eyes in front of Michael only a couple days ago.
“It’s good to let it out,” she says. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”
I think back on what my dad said to me, what I promised in return. And what I’ve done all these years to compensate for failing to keep up that original promise.
“I do,” I say. “Do we have time?”
She glances at the clock, then nods. “Tell me anything you’d like. I’m here to listen.”
Chapter 19
Michael Cunningham
Islammyfistagainst my desk in my home office. “No,” I mutter under my breath. “No, no, no, no, no.”
I pause my Joe Abercrombie audiobook and read the email for the third time, still sweaty from my work out. I message a fellow content writer on Teams. “Did you get the same email I just did?” I send.
He replies immediately. “Yep. They’re tossing us in the garbage. I knew this was coming.”
“No,” I moan one last time out loud. I check my email again, hoping it’s somehow disappeared. But it hasn’t. It just sits there, laughing at me.
I’ve been laid off, and my last official day is next Friday. I get a month of severance pay, but that’s it. Then I’m on my own.
I stand up and collapse onto my bed, not caring that I’m soaking it with sweat. And I lay there for God knows how long.
This week had gone so well.
Instead of worrying about what Kyle’s doing now that he’s come out, or worrying about whoever David is fucking, I decided to take my sponsor’s advice. I’ve been taking time for myself.
I took myself out to dinner. I went on a hike. I went to see a movie by myself. And no matter how much I’ve been tempted, I haven’t followed up with Kyle about his coming out. I don’t want to add extra stress to his life, and I don’twant to feel clingy either. Besides, he and I are still having our normal meetup tomorrow.
But starting next Friday, a week from today, I won’t have a job. I have my OnlyFans to supplement my income, but that isn’t enough to fully support me. And I promised Kyle I wouldn’t post again, for at least this week. I want to keep that promise.
How am I going to pay rent? The last thing I want to do is move back in with my parents in Minnesota. They would allow it, but I’d have to live a half-life, unable to date any guys or talk about my sexuality. So much for unconditional parental love. I wonder if Kyle could relate.
I lift myself off my bed and slump to my computer. “Is it because of AI?” I send to my coworker. “Don’t need us writers anymore?”
“That might be what they say,” he says. “But corporations are always looking for excuses to lay people off. I think is a long time coming.”
I wipe my face and collapse my hand into my arms.
Now I have to look for a new job. How the hell am I supposed to write in the meantime? It took me four months of straight hunting to find this job, and that’s when I was doing it fulltime. I couldn’t write at all during this period. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I was so hitting my stride with my novel. I wish, more than anything, that my writing could be my day job. I don’t know if my soul can take another corporate position.
Eventually, after God knows how long, I lift my head and look out the window. The sun is shining, of course, as if nature is completely indifferent to my situation. Which, like, of course it is. But really, why does it always rain when Idon’twant it to, and why is it sunny now that I couldn’t be more miserable?
While I’ve been whining to myself, I’ve received four emails. I guess they’re having me work up until they nix me. Figures.
I eventually, I sit myself up and stare at my screen. If I want to find another job, I gotta start looking as soon as possible. But I still have to work this job now.
“Just for today,” I say out loud, parroting what I’ve heard in Al-Anon meetings. “I can get my work done.”
Before I check my emails, I join a random Al-Anon zoom meeting on my phone. And then I get to work. The entire day, I answer emails and do my writing, all while listening to others share their experiences. It strengthens me, puts it all into perspective. At least I’m not the only one suffering, and there’s light at the far end of this tunnel. It just sucks going through it. I’m grateful to have this community as a resource, but I’d still like to be a greater part of the bookish community, one where I can bond, read works by, and share work with other book lovers. That sense of home I found in college can’t be beat.
