Page 78 of Catching Kyle
I chew on my quivering lip, but I’m not able to keep some tears from falling. At least I’m not blubbering.
“Family,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “Family was what was most important to him. Up until then, coaching in the NFO was his dream. Getting to the Championship Game. And he almost made it before the cancer got him. But before he died, he held my hand and told me how much he regretted losing my ma and how much he didn’t want to lose me. Said he had his focus all wrong his whole life. I realized he was always a good man, after all. So I told him I’d be by his side, that I’d do anything for him. And that’s when he asked me to make a promise—that I would carry on our family name.”
Robyn gives me a puzzled look. “But you were single for so long.”
I nod. “It’s because…” Goddamnit. I hate lying. But I don’t know how to tell this story any other way. “I couldn’t find the right girl to honor his legacy. I searched for years, but it wasn’t until Amani that I finally found a girl that he would approve of.”
“So all this time,” Robyn says. “You just hadn’t found the right one?”
Yes, I want to say.But I think I have him now. And his name is Michael.
But I just nod. “Until I found Amani.”
Robyn nods, taking it all in. “So, you’ve found the woman of your dreams,” she says. “But rumor has it you want to play at least one more season. You want to go try and win the Championship Game one last time.”
“Especially after we were so close with this last one.”
“Why, though?” she asks. “I mean, sure. It’s the Championship Game. But there are plenty of players who retire just before their teams win. Why persist?”
I sit back and think.
And that’s when the words break through my mind and land on me like steaming piles of shit.
Queer.
What my dad would call me when I wasn’t playing hard enough.
Faggot.
When I was goofing off with the other guys.
Goddamned disappointment.
When my first ever girlfriend broke up with me because I wouldn’t have sex with her.
So I played hard and put on a show of being a man all so I could be shielded from his scorn. But even after he died, these words have still haunted me, like whips thwacking against my hide every time I lay down to rest. These words remind me that no matter what, I’m always shy of the man that my daddy wanted me to be. And I’m realizing, just now, really why I’ve been pursuing a Championship Game win this whole time, and not just ‘cause I promised my daddy on his deathbed. But a bigger reason.
“By winning the Championship Game,” I say. “I’ll finally be the man I want to be. I’ll finally prove myself.”
I think that answer will satisfy Robyn, but she still sits there, curious.
“Prove yourself… to whom?” she asks. “To you? Or your father?”
I sit back, my head and heart too exhausted to talk further. “I think I’m shot for today,” I say.
She nods. “That’s fine,” she says, setting her notepad down. “We talked about a lot.”
I look up at her, imploringly. “Please be kind in your writing,” I say. “I don’t even remember all that I said.”
“I’ll send you a note in the next week with a draft. You can tell me what I can or can’t include.”
“That’s kind,” I say. “You don’t have to do that.”
She grabs her things and stands up. “And you didn’t have to be so honest,” she says. “I may reach out with more questions, but if you want to talk more about this, please let me know.”
“Sure thing,” I say.
And as she’s leaving, I mull her last question over in my mind. Am I playing to prove myself to me? Or to my father? By the time I shut my front door, there’s a sharp pain between my eyes, and exhaustion sweeps over me. Truth is, I have no fucking clue.
