Page 1 of Out of Bounds

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CLIFF

“Atoast to my little bro, Cliff. He may be the strong, silent type, but here’s to college breaking you out of that shell.”

Three glasses clinked together in the center of the table. Cliff joined his brother and parents a half-second later, his identity as the quiet one in the family sinking in for him.

The clinks echoed through the half-full French restaurant patio and broke up the ambient sound of chatter and Edith Piaf wafting through the speaker system. It was the final week of September, and the Warners braved the hints of nighttime chill to eat al fresco.

“I can’t believe my youngest born is now a college student,” his mother said.

“College student and soon-to-be Browerton basketball star.” His father raised his glass to Cliff before taking another sip.

Thejust like your dadpart was implied. His Number 43 jersey from his glory days on the Browerton basketball team hung in the Warner living room, watching Cliff as if it had Mona Lisa eyes. Cliff wasn’t sure if his love of basketball came from the joy it brought his dad or the game itself. At this point, it didn’t matter. He loved being on the court and being able to pour his focus into one goal. He hoped in due time, his own Number 43 Browerton jersey would hang beside his dad’s, and maybe even an NBA jersey to match, too.

“I’m a freshman, so I’ll be warming the bench most games.”

“You never know. You have to be prepared.” His dad’s thick eyebrows pointed at him like extra index fingers. “I played a decent amount my freshman year.”

“I played goalie my first game as a freshman when the first-string had too much to drink the night before.” Alex smiled to himself. “Pro tip: never drink the night before a game. Don’t even try to get by with one or two.”

Cliff’s older brother played soccer in high school, mostly to appease their dad who believed in the power of sports to instill discipline and pride, but had steered his focus to politics and government at Browerton.

“I’ll look out for Cliff. Make sure he doesn’t get trashed right before a game.”

Their dad waved it off. “I doubt that’ll happen.”

The fact that his parents weren’t the slightest bit concerned stung Cliff in the same way Alex’s toast did, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. He wished that he was more of an enigma.

“I’m glad you’ll have each other here.” His mom gave Cliff a warm look as she cut into her coq au vin.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t gettoowild,” Alex said with a knowing elbow to his rib. “Or that he’ll be wild enough.”

Cliff gathered up what was left of his food on his fork and shoveled it into his mouth before he could react.

Two years older, Alex was an affable force in the world. People were surprised to learn they were brothers. Alex’s olive complexion and close-cropped black hair was in stark contrast to the sandy mop of hair and fairer complexion Cliff had inherited from their dad. But more than that, Cliff felt as if they were derived from the opposite ends of the DNA strand. Whereas Cliff had the athletic aptitude of the family, Alex was born with the charm and the ability to strike up a conversation with anyone.

“The ladies love athletes here.” Alex raised his eyebrows at Cliff mischievously as he drank his Sprite.

A rock the size of El Capitan plunked into Cliff’s stomach. But like any good athlete, he prepared for these blows, as he’d gotten them before many times over. He laughed along with his family before anyone could notice.

“We don’t need to discuss this.” His mom pushed her hands out to get rid of the topic. “Just remember to always wear protection.”

“Mom!” Alex let out a loud cackle. Their dad tipped his head to the side as if to sayShe’s right.

Cliff clenched his teeth together, begging the floor to swallow him whole. He wondered if these jokes were masking concern that their son, captain of the high school basketball team and a not-unpleasant-looking young man, had never had a girlfriend.

Now that he was in college, maybe if he tried hard enough and put in the practice, he could become the type of guy who wanted a girlfriend and always remembered condoms.Could I train to be a straight person?he often wondered.

Cliff had kissed two girls - one at a party, one that he “dated” for a week in eighth grade. Once their lips met, it just felt wrong to him. BigDo Not Entersigns flashed in his mind. Which madehimfeel wrong. He had decided it was better to focus on his grades and his game, and he had found great success in both.

“He’s focused.” His dad clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Didn’t let himself get distracted. That’s how you become a champion.”

The conversation came to a natural lull, and all eyes at the table turned to Cliff. He realized that in a conversation centered exclusively on him, he hadn’t uttered a word.

“The strong silent type.” His dad said. “Any comments?”

“I think you guys said it all.”