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Alec climbs into the driver’s seat. “You know I drive faster.”
And I can’t argue. “Are you nervous?” I ask once we’re on our way to the airport.
His smile is hesitant, so I know he is, but he shrugs a shoulder and says, “Are you? There’s going to be press there.”
“No. Not unless things get ugly for you.” I rub this thigh and wait for him to tell me what he’s holding back.
“Part of me hopes my parents are there, protesting the center, so I can comment in the press. They think they’re righteous and would have a rude awakening with the negative publicity for their views. It’s one thing for them to be homophobic and racist in their little community, but it’s a big world and many people would throw just as much hate their way.” Alec sighs and I squeeze his thigh, wishing he had better parents.
I check my phone for the time.
“Your parents will have to stop at baggage claim so we won’t technically be late,” he assures me.
“I wish they would have come in yesterday.” I bite back a little resentment. My parents will be here to love and support us, so I can’t complain after we heard rumors Alec’s parents’ church is staging a protest in front of the center.
Today is the official opening of the Boe Blixt Community Alliance Center. Or as Alec calls it, the BBC with AC. It’s been unofficially open and serving LBGTQ+ youth for the last two months. Next to Alec, it has been the best thing in my life.
When we were in Sweden, we discussed at length the future and our goals. Knowing how much Alec struggled as a teen and never knowing if Boe’s sexuality contributed to his untimely death, I wanted to contribute to Alec’s dream of a youth program.
Things happened very quickly after he returned to the States. He FaceTime'd me to tell me the name he picked for the center and it was the first time I allowed myself to cry since my brother died. I’m honored he chose Boe, and I wish they’d known each other.
So many unforeseen positive results from Alec’s choice. First, he won over my father and sister with his gesture. My mother loves the tribute to her youngest son but does not love that I chose a man who took me half a world away from Sweden. Alec is slowly charming her and I know she’ll eventually love how happy he makes me.
Then Boe’sfotbollclub donated money to expedite the building. It might have taken a few years to secure the funding otherwise. We were able to break ground in record time and could pay for the most qualified crews.
After the land was cleared, and the architect drew up the plans, we had to decide what to do with the unused acres. I thought we should sell it and donate the money to the Boe Blixt Alliance Center. But Alec had the brilliant idea to build afotbollpitch—although he insists on calling it a soccer field. Kids don’t need a lot of equipment to play and it fits Boe’s legacy. Because it will be used for sports purposes, we added “community” to the official name.
To continue to honor his legacy, I applied for coaching positions. Because my expertise is infotboll, the US immediately reinstated my visa. Which I would have done sooner if I’d known I could get back to Alec faster. Coaching has renewed my love offotboll.
The past two years have been the greatest of my life. Nothing compares to the life I’ve built with Alec.
Alec waits in the loading zone while I find my parents at baggage claim. Pappa greets me with a handshake and Mamma kisses my cheek, complaining the schedule is tight. Then we’re off to Alec’s hometown.
The car is silent, and Alec’s bouncing leg indicates he’s nervous. Silence is not uncommon in my family, but I suppose it is odd we aren’t catching up.
So I clear my throat and ask, “How are Alma and the baby?” My sister’s son is only a month old, so they couldn’t make the trip.
“Fine,” Mamma replies, but she has a huge smile.
“He looks like Boe.” Pappa beams, and the car is quiet again.
Alec asks if they’re interested in knowing the history of the places we pass. Alec has a wealth of knowledge, but it’s not until he winks at me that I realize he’s making most of it up to fill the silence.
“Oh, Von.” Mamma gasps as the center comes into view. The pitch and other fields are strategically in front and a huge sign bears Boe’s name. She slaps her fingertips under her eyes to prevent her tears from falling. Pappa chokes up as well.
The sports complex is open to everyone in the community and we’ve partnered with the local club teams to ensure its use. I might not be famous in America, but as a former Premier League player, that opened many doors for us.
“Von sat in on the design meetings and personally approved everything,” Alec tells my parents. He’s being modest since he had the final say.
“Well done, son.” My father slaps my back as we exit the car.
We parked in front of the sports complex so I can give them a tour before we go into the Alliance Center. My parents are impressed and I’m relieved to have their approval.
The center is modern and welcoming. In the lobby, Cole painted a huge rainbow mural to subtly advertise our mission of serving the LBGTQ+ community. I sculpted a series of same-sex couples, which are scattered around the center.
Mamma doesn’t say she likes my artwork, but she’s smiling and touches each sculpture, nodding her head to show her appreciation. That is high praise from her.
“Over here.” Madyson waves to us. Our friends are here to support us. “Guess what?” she asks but doesn’t wait for us to answer. “Your decision not to sell the sculptures in this center has driven the price up.” She’s squeezing my hands and looking proudly smug. She thought displaying my sculptures would widen my exposure in the queer community. I agreed to sell them if the offers are above what she normally sells them for. I plan to donate the profits to the center like Cole did with his mural.