Page 25 of Catch Me (Becoming Us #4)

Roman

“What if you let your hair down?” I suggested.

Jude looked contemplative. “It’s up when I play.”

“Yeah, but you’re not playing. I like the idea of this showcasing you as a person, not just as part of the Braves.” When he still seemed undecided, I motioned toward his hat. “We’ll do one of each.”

“For each pose?”

“Yeah, why not?”

He took off the hat, then untied his hair. I came up to him and lifted my hand. After he nodded, I started messing with it until it looked the way I wanted it.

“You Native?” he asked.

I nodded. “Half. My mom is Niitsitapi. You?”

“I’m indigenous, yeah, but I was adopted. Don’t know who I’m descended from. ”

“If you care enough, you could do one of those DNA tests. It might not identify which tribe, but maybe it’ll find someone you’re related to who took the test.”

“I hadn’t thought of it. That’s a good idea.”

“It’s cool to know. I’m not affiliated or anything, but knowing where we come from gives us the chance to learn about the culture of our ancestors if we want to.”

“You’re cool, Roman. When Luis said you were a dick, I was a little worried.”

I laughed and stepped back. “He’s the one who missed his time slot. Pete moved him to the last day.”

“Serves him right. He keeps his shit together during the season, but otherwise, he’s a bit of a mess.”

“He’s not an alcoholic, then?”

“Nah, he’s fine staying sober when he has to. Being away from home so much is better for him.”

“Bad home life?”

“Yeah, he got a girl pregnant a few years ago. A couple of us told him to co-parent, not to get married just because she was having his kid, but he thought it was the right thing to do, I guess. Now, they’re both miserable, but they worry that divorcing will hurt their son too much.”

“Take it from me. Kids aren’t dumb. They can see and feel the things their parents are trying to hide. It’s better for them to end it now so they can both give their son the best parts of themselves. That means more than having parents that are married.”

“Personal experience?”

“Parents divorced when I was thirteen.”

He looked saddened by that, but I never had been. Seeing my parents together was depressing back then, and it was worse because they’d tried to act like things were fine. It made me angry, and I’d wanted to tell them to just give up already, but they eventually made that decision on their own.

My dad treated my mom like shit. He never hit her as far as I knew, but he didn’t meet any of her emotional needs and he was selfish. He always had been. Even though we had a relationship, I’d always been more attached to my mom. She was a good person and did her best .

After they split up, I’d expected to feel less angry, but it just never went away.

I was cynical, always expecting things to go badly and seeing the worst in the world.

My mom’s best friend, Victoria, was supportive, but Victoria was Til’s mom, and for some reason, after Alex told them he wasn’t a girl at five years old, she left.

I remembered seeing them at church afterward.

Tilian would never let anyone see how it affected him because he cared more about making sure his siblings were okay, but at the time, there was anger in him too.

I would have tried to talk to him and connect through our experiences if my dad didn’t deter me.

He was disgusted by the fact that he was gay, so I stayed away, worried that he’d be angry at me if I was his friend.

Tilian was the entire reason his dad changed his views.

Since Ross was the pastor, he made it clear to the congregation that he supported both his sons and wouldn’t tolerate any slander against gay or trans people.

My dad left the church immediately and ended up moving to Idaho, as if cutting that tie was the only thing he needed to search for a new life—without me.

And I blamed Ross. I blamed Tilian and Alex. From that day on, I let my anger grow.

It wasn’t until recently that it struck me: I’d turned out too much like my dad. Anger rotted my soul and made me bloodthirsty. I attacked them and saw it as recompense for taking my dad from me.

Why had I held onto that for so long? I knew who my dad was now. The exact things I said to Til and Alex over the years were what he’d say to me if he knew what I’d done— who I’d done it with. It never affected Til, but I saw the way it hurt Alex, and I didn’t want to feel that way.

I couldn’t ever let my dad find out. It terrified me that I might not be able to stop these feelings forever, but regardless of where I ended up, I’d have to hide it from him.

That thought made me remember Sen’s story. Our experiences were completely different, but through all of the pain that was evident on his face, there was something else. It had become more obvious as he got to the part where he met Kai. It looked like freedom .

Good for him. I’d never get there. All of them tried to claim that it would be hard, but it was worth it when you accepted who you were. I just couldn’t see it. He had Kai, and he even admitted that he probably wouldn’t have come out if he didn’t.

He also said that he always knew he was gay, even when he suppressed it. As nauseous as it made me to think about, I guess I could relate to that too.

But I didn’t have a Kai. There was no friend group who would be more like family to me. Nobody would go to bat for me or hold me together when all of my fabricated realities came crashing down.

So, yeah, I knew. I’d known when I harassed Til and when I started sleeping with him. Then, Malcolm and Ezra. And now...

I lifted my stylus from the tablet and looked over at where Travis usually stood, throwing the ball with one of his teammates. He didn’t come today, and I hadn’t asked why because I didn’t want him to think that I wanted him here. But I did, and I needed to get the fuck past it.

Gay, not gay, it didn’t matter. Even if he was interested in me, which he wasn’t, I hadn’t figured my shit out.

In twelve days, we’d say goodbye and move on with our lives. We weren’t friends. He was just too nice for his own good.

*****

I stared at the message from my doctor in my email. A new prescription. Just what I needed.

All hope about medication helping me feel better had died a while ago.

At this point, I tried them because he thought they’d work.

He said I had treatment resistant depression.

Then, why did we keep trying to treat it?

My brain was broken, end of story. I’d been dealing with it for so long that I was kind of fine with it at this point. It was my normal, and I survived.

The meds sucked. They either didn’t help or they made it worse.

A couple made me feel suicidal, which was the most bullshit side effect for a depression medication to have.

I didn’t know if I’d try this new one or just accept things as they were and keep on trucking.

The recurrent hope and disappointment every time he changed it seemed like it was doing more harm than living with the constant heaviness in the back of my mind .

He said drinking would make it worse, and I’d assured him that it had been weeks since I had alcohol. It was true, and I was very interested in changing that today.

Grabbing the vodka bottle from the nightstand, I took a swig of it. Tomorrow was Wednesday, so I didn’t have to be at the field. I could sleep the day away if I wanted to. If you couldn’t beat the dark thoughts, sleep through them.

After I started to get a buzz, I felt cramped in the room.

My studio wasn’t much bigger, but it was a whole apartment with a kitchen.

This was like sneakily drinking in my room as a teenager.

I wasn’t keen on being around Travis under the influence of alcohol.

At the same time, I wouldn’t mind being around him, regardless of the details.

Since I had one whole hobby, I brought my tablet with me. I laughed when I thought about it being like Linus’ security blanket. Had I ever gone a day without drawing? I didn’t think so.

Deciding to be a civilized creature, I grabbed a glass and poured some of the vodka into it. It was cold outside, but I loved sitting on the deck and swinging my legs over the side, so that was what I did. Travis was throwing the ball for Tessa, which may or may not have something to do with it.

I took a long drink, then watched the two of them.

He was wearing a light blue hoodie with dark jeans, and he made it look more stylish than a five-piece suit.

I liked that he sported different colors, rather than sticking with mostly black or white.

The color he wore today looked the best on him, though.

He threw the ball, then looked at me. When he smiled, I returned it the best I could. I probably looked dumb as hell, like an alien trying to mimic human behavior.

I stared down at the tablet and tried to decide what to work on. I should probably pull up the pieces for the project, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I had the sketches done for most of them, and the rest of it was too tedious while drinking.

“Drawing me again?” he asked.

When I looked up, he was standing in front of me, just a few feet away. “Nope.”

“Pity.”

I laughed and tapped the stylus on my leg. “You want me to draw you? ”

“Makes me feel special.” He came closer, then picked up my glass. After sniffing it, he knocked it back. “What are we drinking to?”

“Existentialism?”

“I can get behind it. I have a team interview tomorrow that won’t be fun, but one won’t hurt.”

“You already had one,” I pointed out.

“That was yours, so it doesn’t count.”

“Mhm.”

I got to my feet and walked with him to the kitchen. Since my dignity had already been shattered the other day, I pulled up one of my newest illustrations and turned the tablet around. He brought his drink to his mouth while he looked at it.

“You asshole. You really drew me covered in flour.”

I shrugged. “It was funny.”

“Well, I think I still look good.”

He looked at me over the tablet. I leaned forward and tapped a button to bring up the next one, which was him on the couch while we watched a movie.

“I like this one,” I said.

“Why this one out of all of them?”

“It’s from the side, so I can’t really see your eyes.”

“Those elusive fuckers. You’re gonna end up resenting them.”

“No, they’re really nice.”

It was hard to tell since he brought the glass to his lips, but I thought he smiled. I poured more vodka into my cup to distract myself. His presence was impossible to ignore. It was worse that I didn’t want to. When I returned my attention to him, he was already looking at me.

“If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“What made you believe gay people are wrong?”

My eyes widened, and it took me a second to reorient myself. “I don’t believe that.”

“But you don’t agree with something about us.”

“Um...” My gaze moved to the side as I tried to think of a response.

“Nevermind. I shouldn’t have asked. It violates the boundaries I set. ”

“I changed my mind,” I said quickly, afraid he’d walk away from me.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that gay people aren’t wrong. I was.”

He leaned his hip against the cabinet as he drained the rest of his vodka. “Okay, Roman. I’m intrigued. What happened in the past month to make your worldview shift so majorly?”

You . That wasn’t entirely true. It had started a while ago, probably in my second year at the art institute. Those were small things, though. A slight shift in perception here, a stray thought there. Within the span of less than two months, I’d done more than in the past two years.

“I don’t want to be like my dad,” I said.

“Is he the reason you thought those things?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what that’s like. My dad didn’t accept me for a while.”

“It’s nothing like that.” I took a step away from him. It would’ve been better to just stay in the room. Why the hell did he want to have a heart-to-heart?

He put his hands on my biceps. “Don’t do that. You decide what to do with your anger, remember?”

I could’ve shaken him off, but I didn’t. “I’m not angry.”

“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” he joked, then smiled apologetically. “Look, I wasn’t trying to imply that it was the same. I was just trying to relate.”

“Okay.”

No other words existed because he was still holding onto my biceps and his thumbs had begun to move back and forth. In my short-sleeved shirt, they were on my bare skin. It was fucking torture.

I grabbed onto his forearms and pushed them down to remove his hands from me. “I’m not angry,” I repeated. “I need to sleep, though. Gonna spend all of tomorrow working on the team pictures.”

“Yeah, I should probably get to bed too. ”

He looked down at where I was still holding his arms. I released him and immediately headed down the hall, trying to ignore my racing heart. Pausing at the door, I looked at Travis, who was in front of his own.

“Goodnight.”

He smiled in the same lighthearted way he always did. “Night, Roman.”

After I closed the door behind me, I turned and leaned my forehead against it. There was no point denying that things in my head were getting out of hand.