I was hoping Shane was just having a bad practice today, but the funk he was in persisted through to the end. He was always eager to get psychical with everyone else on the football team, happily congratulating them with a hug or a pat, and he would be more than eager to take charge of the practice from me; but today, he seemed hesitant, distant, and painfully unsure of himself. If this was the first time you say him you would of thought he was trying to avoid everyone. I pulled him aside at least once during the practice to ask him if something was up, but he insisted the whole time he was alright. So I did what I could - leave him to it and hope he would just snap out of it.
His antisocial demeanor persisted throughout the post practice wrap up too. Usually, he would take over the wrap up and improvise a little motivational speech in the locker room, but just like on the field, he kept quiet and away from everyone else. His voice would of normally boomed in the small tile and concrete structure, but instead, the rabble of the other athletes just blended together. The other kids were talking about him, just as curious as me as to his inner workings today. Rumors and sour jokes were already flying around, from just a particularly nasty hangover to him impregnating another student. The only thing we knew for sure was that he wouldn't shower with the others, despite his occasional lecture on hygienics and health regarding the activity. Instead, all he did was change and sit down, sifting through the books and notes in his backpack as everyone else washed, changed, and eventually leave the structure.
I was always in my little office after practice, overlooking the rest of the locker room. The cluttered and cramped room held everything from my play books to my mail and letters. This was my sanctuary, and would often be one for my players as well. The centerpiece was an old ratty couch, its back to the teachers window, where the kids sat and unloaded on me. Today, I left the door open, hoping Shane was going to use it before he would leave for the day. After the last two kids departed, he got up from his seat and hesitantly walked up to my office, shamefully standing in the doorway, staring at his feet. Ever so eager to punctuate this mood he was in, he just stood there without saying a word. Eventually, I had to say something to try to get him to open up.
"You wanna take a seat?" I asked casually, keeping my eyes on my paperwork. I aimed to be caring, but it's hard for me to do these touchy feeling things. Shane dragged his feet along the ground, softly stepping into my office and letting his backpack fall to the ground while he dropped down onto the couch. After organizing my work, I turned to face him and leaned in towards him, trying to appear sympathetic. Shane held his head low, interwove his fingers, and folded his hands up, depositing them in his lap. He looked like he was about to confess to something heinous. "You can tell me anything, Shane, I'll do whatever I can to help you." He looked up briefly at me before dropping his head again. I could see that something was eating away at him. His usually cocky, almost arrogant, demeanor was replaced with this one of defeat and humiliation. He gave a long sigh, staring at his feet, obviously looking for a way to describe his situation.
"Coach..." he squeaked out. His voice trembled and shook, barely able to make it past his lips without the greatest of efforts. And silence again. He shook slightly and hunched over, looking like he was either about to break down or throw up while he searched for the strength to finish his sentence. With another big sigh and the last of his willpower mustered, he gave it another try. "Coach... I... I'm... I'm gay." He stuttered, his body fighting him the entire way. I was taken back by the revelation. I knew I was supposed to be supportive and caring for him in this situation, but this was an issue I both never wanted to hear from anyone nor was one I could truthfully support. Dumbfounded, I racked my brain to try to find a way to be nice. I stammered, seeming just as awkward as him as I tried to console him.
"Um, are you sure?" I asked awkwardly, trying to get out of this situation as fast as I could, honestly caring more for my own discomfort than his. He defeatedly nodded and sniffled, hanging his head down lower. I spun back around, reorganized my work, buying time to think of what to do or say. "Is there any particular reason you decided to tell me?" I asked, trying not to sound dismissive to him. He just sighed and gave me the universal 'I don't know' gesture.
"Just.... Just didn't know who else I could tell..." He confessed. I stammered more, intensifying my hunt for a way out of this situation.
"Um... Why don't you go home and sleep in it, maybe you're not gay?" I told him, no longer filtering out my uncaring feeling for the scenario. He looked back up at me, tears beading up in his eyes, and got up and walked out, never taking his eyes off the ground.
After he left, I had an immediate flashback to when my own daughter, Jessica, told me she was a lesbian. Even after graduation high school, she loved coming back to hang out with her friends and her dad. Ever since she was a freshman here, she would watch me run the practices. She was always more than eager to help with them, too. Always loving hanging out with the guys, getting dirty and roughed up with them after school every day. Every once in a while, I would of told her to just join the cheerleaders and she would of had a sure thing. She would laugh every time I told her and tell me she just wasn't that kind of girl.
She actually came out three years ago during her freshman year at college. She came out to me on the sidelines of the field after a practice. It started with us discussing Sunday dinner, like usual. A guest being invited over was mentioned quietly by her, and I said she could bring him over. As soon as she said she was not bringing a guy over, all the pieces snapped right into place. I pusher her into giving me a confession. I have no idea why, but I was so angry when she finally told me. I yelled and cussed and said every hurtful thing that would come to mind at to my own daughter. I did all of this in front of my players. She walked away stoically after I exploded, not saying a word to me. As a result of that episode: I lost the faith and trust of my team, got reprimanded by the school board, suspended for several days, anger management, but worst of all, me and Jessica haven't said a word to each other since. Of everything that has happened, that was what eats away at me the most. It was not her fault we were so distant either; she sends me emails and letters all the time. I was just so afraid of freaking out again and losing her forever that I just never repaired the bond. I will have to concede how badly I have treated her when she came out to me, but I do not ever want to do that to anyone again. So with a heavy heart and a lump in my throat, I rummaged through my clutter, looking for her contact information.
As distant as I allowed us to become, I was surprised with how easy it was to find her phone number. Dust has caked itself onto the letter she sent me about a new cellphone. Tentatively, I grabbed my office phone and hesitantly dialed her number. I waited patiently for her to pick up, leaning on an arm while I counted the rings. After a few seemingly eternal seconds, I heard someone pick up.
"Hello?" She said curiously. Hearing her soft voice immediately quelled all the unease and anxiety I had let build up over the years.
"Guess who, Jessie..." I replied in a friendly way. She was silent for a few moments as she tried to recollect the voice, quietly guessing at who it was on the other end.
"Dad..?" She finally asked, sounding as emotional as Shane was a few moments ago.
"Yeah, Jessie, it's me..." I said as I wiped a tear from my own eye.
"Dad..." She repeated. I could feel the connections firing back up like old wires coursing with electricity again. "How've you been?"
"Great, Jessie..." Each word she said and each utterance of her name to her felt like another burden being lifted off of me.
But the euphoria from first contact wore off a little quicker for her than for me. "So, what brought this on?"
"Well... My quarterback came out to me, and I don't know what to do. He said that he didn't really trust anyone else with this, so I don't wanna screw up this time..."
"You didn't do anything cruel, did you?"
"No, I just kinda pushed him off. Look, I'll admit it, I treated you badly. Horribly, even. All I wanna do now is avoid hurting anyone like that again, but I don't know how. You don't have to love me or hate me after all of this, but all I want is you to help me help my quarterback." She remained silent, me praying that I've done enough to reconcile.
"Alright, get something to write with, there's a lot to cover." She said, businesslike but with an undertow of joy.
"Actually... This may be easier to do face to face." There was an astonished and interested silence from her end. "I'm planning a dinner for Sunday, if you wanna come on over..."
After a short silence, she said, holding back soft weeps, "I'd love to, daddy."
I chuckled softly and added, "If you wanna bring a friend over, go right ahead. I'd love to meet her."