Page 12 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)

CHAPTER 12

SOMETHING ABOUT US

Elliot

Who would call for hours daily to maintain the connection with his devastated long-distance non-boyfriend? Who would allow him to vent or make sure he’s listening when they babble about random topics in order to keep him company despite the distance? Who would be there for him, ready to hop on the next flight, even if it meant the possibility of jeopardizing their grades?

That would be me.

Before Thanksgiving, we favored texts to calls, but I quickly realized Rupert needed more support. Seeing him so affected by his friend’s accident rips me open. He sounds hollow, even more so when he mentions that she hasn’t come out of the coma.

Don’t get me wrong, I get it and would probably react the same way if I’d been that close to someone. Erecting walls to keep my secrets safe keeps people at bay, which, in turn, prevents me from building such relationships. I love what my brother and I have, but he’s family, so it doesn’t compare. We may text almost daily, but he isn’t privy to the real me, and it sucks. I’d hate to learn that he’s hiding things from me or lying by omission. Isn’t it ironic that it’s exactly what I do? And that’s not about to change anytime soon.

Somehow, Rupert and I managed to build some trust, and I’m glad that he eventually opened up to me, disclosing bits and pieces about his unique relationship with Sally. I’m envious of Tim, who had the opportunity to meet her several times. No wonder everyone believed their fake relationship, though.

I can’t confide in Chris, although he’s the prime witness of how Rupert’s zombie state troubles me. It’s a miracle that I stay focused in class and on the field. Guilt gnaws at me. I do what I can, but would simply prefer to be by his side. It won’t happen, not anytime soon anyway.

Meanwhile, Rupert put his life on hold to be there for Sally when she wakes up. Hardy was understanding enough to cut him some slack when Rupert told him he wouldn’t make it to their upcoming gigs. The Whiskey Barrels tweaked a few dates to accommodate their lead guitarist without harming their tour. Regardless, I’m in awe of his selflessness.

What I didn’t expect, though, is my brother barging in on me. Well, he didn’t show up unannounced. That’s not who he is. He texted me about his business trip to Texas Hill Country. I didn’t pay much attention to his plans, too preoccupied by practice, games, and the fact that I kept debating on booking a flight and showing up at Rupert’s doorstep.

I’d never expected to face Tim on such a short notice! I’m being an ungrateful jerk because I’m actually genuinely happy to be sitting across from him at Hand Wing Brewing Co. Needless to say, I’ve picked the burger joint on purpose, in hopes of meeting some of my favorite players. I followed the construction of ATEX Stadium—home of my beloved Troopers—from day one. Being a UT Austin student definitely has its perks: The Troopers mentor our team and sometimes even train with us.

What’s not a perk, though, is that I can’t have a taste of the beer Tim ordered since I’m not even twenty yet. Chris, who tagged along, pretended he didn’t notice my irritation earlier while munching on my chicken sandwich. What can I say? I hate that I can drink in my own country and can’t do it here. Granted, I shouldn’t indulge in beer anyway.

“Huh?” I look up at my brother; the crease between his brows tells me that I’ve missed more than I thought.

He deposits his empty glass on the coaster to his left. “Where did your mind go again, bro?” His voice is laced with concern. I like that he never calls me “little brother.” Leaning towards the other side of the booth, his upper body almost touches the wooden table as he extends his arm and ruffles my hair. Such an unusual gesture… “Is the missed championship weighing on you? I’ve seen you play. You’re fast, assertive, and inspired.” I appreciate his effort, considering he doesn’t know the first thing about American Football. His attention turns to Chris. “You two are so fun to watch.” My roommate beams between mouthfuls his juicy steak. We would’ve been fun to watch in the postseason, too , I think bitterly.

Chris nudges my elbow on the table. His wide eyes are glued to a door that leads to a private room where football events are held for the happy few.

With my back to it, I can’t see what caught his attention, but he’s already babbling, “Oh, my God, Elliot…” His Adam’s apple gets stuck in his throat. He opens his mouth to continue, but someone behind me is faster.

“Hey, guys.” A hand lands on my shoulder for a split second, and I gawk at the massive frame of my favorite NFL wide receiver, who is now standing at the edge of our booth. He tilts his head in acknowledgement.

Does he remember our names?

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, which showcases his bulging muscles. “Ready for my TED Talk next week?” A chuckle follows.

“Hello, Gunner,” I supply after the shock of seeing him off the football field subsides. My eyes are locked on his. “You bet we are! Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” It’s not really a TED Talk, more like sharing his experience with hopeful players like us. “Tim, this is Logan Foster.” I introduce my clueless brother to him.

“They all call me Gunner,” he tells Tim while shaking his hand. “Your brother’s a gifted player, but he also puts in a ton of hard work.” My heart swells with pride, and I shoot him a wide smile at the compliment, hoping my wayward emotions aren’t written all over my face. “Gotta split. See you next week then, Elliot.” Then he pats my friend’s shoulder. “You too, Chris!” With that, he exits the bar.

Holy shit! Did that really happen?

This impromptu encounter actually gives me reason not to drink: I’ll have to prove my worth all over again next year and plan to train hard in the offseason. Davis is the biggest loudmouth around, always spouting off rude remarks. He might not mean harm, but his words are just plain obnoxious. He and his friend Jones really fuck up our spirit by not being team players.

My mind drifts to Rupert. I can’t believe that my virginity remains intact, though I wouldn’t dare remind Rupert that I blame him for spurring my losing streak by leaving me sexually frustrated. He has much bigger issues to deal with at the moment. I’ve Googled info on comas, and I frankly don’t see a happy ending in the near future. My helplessness is killing me softly.

“Anyway, as I was saying before your daydreaming, it’s great I got to see you play. I planned to stop in New York to see Rupert first, but he never returned my calls, so I decided to stay here longer.” A shiver runs down my spine at Tim’s words, and I school my features into my best poker face. It’s the first time he’s mentioned his friend. “He did say he was about to go on tour or something, but I think he said he canceled it…” He trails off as if realizing he’s been talking to himself rather than to us. “I’m sorry.” His eyes bore into mine. “You remember him, right?”

My mouth goes dry. I take it back; I could use a beer for this conversation! Instead, I snatch my glass of water, chug half of it, and cut a piece of my sandwich, averting my gaze.

As if on cue, my phone chimes, and I don’t need to look at the screen to know who’s calling. I’m always the one calling; my face falls. “I’ve got to take this.” I bolt out of the booth and head towards the front for some privacy.

From afar, I hear Tim ask, “Is everything okay?” I’m already shaking my head out of reflex, even if I have my back to him.

Once I’m outside, I mindlessly wander towards my car, welcoming the light breeze; Texas weather suits me. I can’t help but purse my lips as I press the answer button, my butt resting against the driver’s side. I don’t have time to speak.

“Sally’s dead.” A heavy breath echoes on the other end of the line. His voice is devoid of emotion. My heart stops for a second. I want to tell him how sorry I am for his loss, but somehow, I feel that voicing this would prompt him to hang up on me. “Her parents came in from Toronto. They decided that life-support wasn’t an option after the doctors told us she was brain-dead. Not sure how soon it happened after the carjacking. Nathan was with her at the time. He was admitted to the same hospital.” He already told me about Nathan and what happened to him, but I don’t interrupt. “They had to perform surgery on him. He couldn’t stand on his own two feet to check on her, so it took the doctors some time to reveal her condition to him.” He pauses. “I can’t believe she’s dead… for real.” Only now do I notice a tinge of grief in his voice. He makes a throaty noise. “Isn’t it odd that you’re the first person I called? Not my mom, not your?—”

Before he breaks our pact by mentioning Tim, I speak up, in a firm tone. “I’ll hop on the first plane and meet you wherever you need me.”

My offer is met with long silence interrupted only by pained breathing until he eventually replies in a muttered voice, “Thank you, Elliot. I know your schedule doesn’t allow much freedom.” Studying for finals doesn’t help either. “I’m flying to Canada with Nathan to attend her… funeral.” He pauses, then clears his throat. “Do you think there’s a chance you could meet me back in New York this weekend? All expenses paid, obviously.”

“I’ll meet you at the airport when you get back, if that’s okay.” Since when do I ask for permission? I guess the situation dictates it. “Text me your flight information.” As much as I wanted to argue that I’d much rather join him in Canada, it doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I’d crash a private ceremony to stand by a man who isn’t even mine to begin with. I remind myself that there’s no label for what we are; we’re much more than friends, and I wish for more benefits, but he matters, and that’s all that matters. At once, the entirety of the situation registers, and I add, “Nathan won’t be with you, right?”

“I don’t know… Either way, it doesn’t matter to me. I need you.” He trails off, sighs, and delivers in a strangled voice, “I—” There’s another, much longer pause. I give him the time he needs. He doesn’t mind if Nathan reads between the lines, and I’m grateful for it. Just like I don’t mind that I’m being rude to my brother and my teammate. “I… I don’t think I can handle staying in Chelsea ever again. Sally and I have been roommates for too long. I’d see her in every corner, you know… her ghost haunts the place.” He coughs. “Can’t do it.” His voice is pained, and my heart lurches.

I ache to hug him and comfort him. But I don’t express my needs. At this moment, his are more important. “You don’t have to. Where are you now?” I swallow my annoyance at the distance between us, especially when he says he’s at the hospital. “You know what? I’ll find a hotel for us to stay at while I’m there. That’ll give you some time to decide on your next step. Would that work for you?”

“You have no idea…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but also kind of does. “Thank you for being there for me. I’ll text you my flight info ASAP.”

“That’s okay. Of course, I’m here for you.” I open my mouth to tell him ‘ That’s what friends are for ,’ but decide against it. I’m through pretending we’re friends. “Call whenever you need, okay? Day or night, I’ll do my best.” But I’ve never lost anyone dear to me, unlike Tim. He lost a parent and Rupert knows it. However, Rupert chose to reach out to me . I’m not sure what to make of this sudden realization. I shrug, as if he could see me. “I’m here for you, okay?” I repeat.

He murmurs something I don’t get, but right before hanging up, concludes,

“See you.”