Practice Practice Practice

Martin didn’t look at his phone until Saturday afternoon. He’d been dreading it, expecting a slew of text messages and missed calls from Tommy.

When he finally looked at the screen there was just one message from Elizabeth.

Hey, I think Becka needs me for girl time. Mind if I rain check our weekend plans?

He texted back, np, and rolled over, pulling the sheets tight. He buried his head and tried to force himself back to sleep, but as he breathed in all he smelled was Tommy.

Fuck this.

He threw the sheets off and jumped out of bed. He was only wearing boxer briefs, but he didn’t pause to grab any clothes as he started stripping the sheets, blankets, and pillow cases. When the mattress was naked, he bundled everything in a big ball and walked over to search blindly for the door handle.

He marched the bedding down the stairs and across the hall that connected the living and dining rooms in his mom’s duplex. In the dark corner that led to the garage he turned to the laundry room and pushed open the door with his bare foot. The lid on the washer was up and the inside was empty so he dumped in the sheets, added the soap and started the machine.

A moment later he was standing in the hall, taking a deep breath of the clear air.

“Were you mad at your bed sheets?”

Martin jumped at the sound of his mom’s voice. He looked over at the dining room. She sat at the table with a cup of coffee and her laptop, the light through the sliding glass door behind her making her long, nordic hair glow white.

Suddenly Martin felt naked and he awkwardly moved his hands in front of his underwear.

She scoffed and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve seen it all before.”

“Mom!” Martin groaned and crossed back to the stairs.

She called after him, “Do you want a coffee?”

He shouted back, angrily, “Yes, thank you!”

 

He found a clean t-shirt and some sweatpants, and then he came back down and sat in front of the coffee that waited for him on the table.

His mom smiled, but didn’t say anything as she continued typing.

Nora was still in her thirties and worked as a bookkeeper for a small law office. She used to help the lawyers with financial cases, beyond just handling their expenses and taxes, but Martin hadn’t asked her about her work since before they moved the previous summer, so he had no idea if that was still true.

“Did something happen to your phone?” she asked him.

“No. Why?”

She shrugged and kept working as she said, “It’s just been years since I’ve seen a teenager without one. It’s like a beautiful rare bird.”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s charging.”

She said, “Ah,” and nodded as she sipped her coffee in a way that told him she did not believe him.

He picked up his coffee and started to stand.

“Are you staying over at Tommy’s again this weekend?”

“No. Why?”

“Not a good day for questions, huh?”

He caught himself before he said, ‘No. Why?’ again and shrugged. Standing at the end of the table, caught between impulses to go to the kitchen or back to bed, he felt out of sync with the world. This was also the longest conversion he had had with his mother in months, and he was starting to feel the spotlight.

She smiled at him for a moment over the top of her coffee and then said, “Would you like some waffles?”

Before he could consciously react his stomach answered for him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.

 

Martin hovered at the entrance to the kitchen while his mom cracked eggs into the standup mixer. It buzzed for a minute while it mixed and then she lifted out the bowl and poured batter into the waffle maker, which made a satisfying hiss as she closed it to cook. Then she took her coffee and turned to Martin.

He froze, suddenly realizing they had three minutes to wait with nothing to do. He wanted to run away, but he also really wanted waffles.

“So,” she said.

“So?”

“How’s school?”

It was a mess of final assignments and exam prep, and of course he’d been spending all his extra time fucking Tommy. “It’s fine,” he said.

“And how’s Elizabeth?”

She was spending the weekend consoling the girl who got dumped because her boyfriend was too been busy falling in love with the boy who was fucking him. “She’s good,” he said.

“Have you talked to your dad at all?”

Not since they moved. He sipped his coffee and waited for the waffles.

“It’s ok to talk to him, Martin.”

“I know.”

He could tell she wanted to push the issue, but she held back and drank her coffee instead. Silence dragged out between them as the waffle batter sizzled.

“Any basketball games coming up?” She asked.

The exhibition game was on Monday. He was supposed to be in the starting lineup with Tommy. His stomach clenched and he said, “No.”

“Oh? I thought I heard something about an exhibit game on Monday.”

“Exhibition.”

“Sorry, yeah, that one.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing. Richard told me it’s the kind of game they let the backup players play in. Do you think you might get to play?”

She knew a lot more than she had let on. Richard was her boss, and Richard’s son was Barron, the captain of the team. Martin liked to think he and Tommy had gotten the spare slots out of the skill they showed in the tryout, but deep down he knew Barron had done him a favour. She’d probably asked Richard about the team and got the details, but she had still given him a chance to tell her himself. Clearly she was just interested in his life and was reaching out.

Martin grunted and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I could probably take the day off and come watch.”

“No! I mean... You don’t have to come. I’m probably not playing.”

She gave him a thin smile and said, “Ok, no worries.”

The waffle iron beeped and she opened it up, prying the sheet of four waffles out and stacking them on a plate. She passed it over to him and went about pouring the rest of the batter in for a second batch, and while her back was turned Martin poured out some maple syrup on his plate and went back up to his room to eat.

 

The rest of Saturday and Sunday was a boring slog. He couldn’t figure out what he used to do with his weekends before he was hanging out with Tommy. They’d known each other since kindergarten, so he had probably spent them watching cartoons.

So he stayed in his room and watched cartoons.

 

Monday’s regular classes were cancelled to give all the students a chance to watch the exhibition games. It was a celebration for the last week of the school year. The soccer and field hockey teams would be playing in the afternoon, but basketball got the morning slot.

Martin walked to school in his uniform, a silver and black tank top and black shorts, so he could avoid the changing room, and avoid running into Tommy.

The parking lot was overflowing. All the students were required to attend, but parents and family members were allowed to come along for the day as well. The main atrium at the centre of the school buzzed with conversations as students showed their parents their lockers and toured the halls.

Martin slipped between some excited juniors and headed towards the gym. Light foot traffic was heading in the same direction to claim their seats before the game.

Halfway down the hall Martin could see the brown metal stands through the double doors. Then Tommy stepped out from behind some lockers and stood in his way.

Martin felt his heart rate pick up as students and parents continued to walk around them.

Tommy looked nervous, something Martin had rarely seen on him. He wasn’t dressed for the game yet, but wore a blue tank top that matched his eyes.

“Hey,” he said with a small smile.

Martin swallowed and replied, “Hi.”

“I wanted to– I mean, I figured we should talk before the game. Do you want to go somewhere private?”

Martin shook his head. He was feeling awkward, uneasy. Nothing good was going to come of going somewhere private, and he needed to keep his focus on the plan, not on Tommy.

Tommy took a step towards him and Martin retreated.

The crowd continued to flow around them. Every so often someone would bump Martin’s shoulder.

Tommy took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice just loud enough for Martin to hear, “I wanted to apologize. I tried to, but you left so fast.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Martin said. He had felt something in Tommy’s voice. This wasn’t his carefree friend who he’d been hanging out with, practicing with, and Martin was afraid to hear what he had to say.

“I think it matters,” Tommy continued, “I think it matters a lot actually.”

He looked hurt, hesitant, but then he shook his head and stood straight as he met Martin’s eyes, determined, and he said, “Martin, I’m gay.”

The hum of conversations around them picked up. It felt like the crowd was growing too, closing in on them as more people flooded into the gym, bumping Martin’s shoulders as they passed. But Martin held his ground.

“Ok,” Martin said.

“Ok?”

Martin shrugged, “What do you want me to say?”

“I guess, I thought, that you might–”

“I’m not gay.”

Tommy chewed his tongue, but didn’t immediately respond.

Martin felt examined, like a bug pinned under a microscope. They had known each other for so many years, but maybe they hadn’t known each other at all. His heart pounded in his chest and the buzz of the crowds filled his head. It was like the entire school was walking through the hallway, listening in to their private conversation. He felt frustrated and cornered, forced to have a conversation he didn’t want to have. This was all a distraction, a detour from his plan, and it was threatening to derail everything he’d worked so hard for. His grades. The team. Even the SAT. It hadn’t always been an excuse–he had actually studied.

Tommy took one step forward and Martin took one step back just as a man in a suit jacket was trying to get by and he knocked into Martin.

“Oh, sorry, sport,” said the man as he passed.

Martin looked up and found himself face-to-face with Tommy. He could smell him again, that familiar scent he had been trying to wash off.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” said Tommy.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Stop saying that!” Tommy raised his voice a bit and he set his jaw. He was starting to look frustrated, another side of him Martin rarely saw.

Tommy’s eyes searched his face and Martin tried to look away, look down, look for an exit, but Tommy said, “Tell me again.”

“It doesn’t matter?”

“No. Tell me you’re not gay.”

Martin stared at him.

Tommy was confident, calm, waiting.

The noise of the crowd and Martin’s racing heart was deafening. It felt like the crowd was rushing past them now. A chaotic river of bodies heading for the game, leaving them behind, threatening to trample them.

Martin found his voice and repeated, quietly, “I’m not gay.”

Tommy searched his face, his eyes narrowed.

Bodies continued to knock Martin’s shoulders.

Tommy shook his head and said, “I don’t believe you.”

“Fuck you,” said Martin quietly.

“You did, and you enjoyed it.”

Martin’s heart was beating so fast his chest ached, “I have to go.”

He tried to push past, but Tommy grabbed his arms and stayed in front of him, his fingers warm on Martin’s biceps.

“Let me go,” Martin begged.

“Tell me again.”

He grit his teeth and pushed Tommy’s hands off him. Anger rode his adrenaline to the surface and he stood firm as he said again, “I’m not gay.”

Tommy scoffed and shook his head again, “You’re lying.”

Martin pushed Tommy back a step and said it louder, “I’m not fucking gay!”

Tommy grabbed his head and kissed him.

As their lips touched, Martin felt a million pairs of eyes turn on them. Panic and adrenaline exploded. He pushed away, but Tommy held him. He was trapped and he was sure he heard the whispers starting.

Martin pushed harder, Tommy let him go, and then Martin’s fist collided with Tommy’s face.