Page 5 of The Substitute

“You know that’s the only reason I agreed to even let you play hockey so publicly. We had an agreement.” His face gets redder by the minute.

“Fuck your coercion. I’m not playing this game with you anymore.” My mind reels, but I don’t have the energy to argue with him anymore. He pays for everything in my life to keep me under his thumb, and I can’t do it anymore. Hockey is the only thing he doesn’t own. I know I can rely on that, but what am I going to do for the rest of the semester? Not like colleges keep empty dorm rooms open in case someone’s parents kick them out.

But my mouth is writing checks I can’t cash.

“You are here by the grace of my fucking purse strings, and you better fucking respect me.”

We have fucking weeks left in the season and two months left in school. If he tells me to get out, I have nowhere to go tonight.

I look at him as he spews shit in my direction, telling myself to just say what he wants to hear. Apologize. That’s all he wants. Be fucking celibate until you graduate. Do fucking something! But my lips won’t move. I can’t bring myself to swallow the abuse anymore.

“…we have an agreement!”

“I don’t have any fucking thing. I’m not doing it.” All the emotion has gone out of my voice.

“You are my only son. You have a duty to this family and our name.”

“You have my step-brother for that. Go bother him.”

He scoffs. “That fool wants to work a blue-collar job.”

“He’s going to be a doctor. That’s hardly blue-collar.”

“He’s going to sacrifice his body for hardly any meaningful money, just like his father did. Is that what you want for yourself?” He says the words like it’s some gotcha moment.

“I’d rather be happy and poor, sacrificing my body, than under your thumb for another goddamn day.”

My father sputters.

Did I say that out loud?

Fuck.

I’ve spent twenty some years biting my fucking tongue and finally snapped.

He’s yelling, but I’m not listening. I walk away, grab a backpack, then shove a few things in it. He’s still yelling now at the doorway to my bedroom.

“Can’t step foot in here? Worried my gayness will rub off on you?” I’m laughing—maybe I’m fucking losing my shit.

He flexes his jaw, and I almost flinch. It’s been a long time since he’s hit me, but I’m sure I’ll never stop expecting it. I finish throwing shit in my bag and walk up to him, squaring my shoulders. I’m not the little kid he used to beat the shit out of. I’m taller than him and in much better shape.

He stands his ground but only for a minute before moving. “If you leave here, you are not coming back.”

“I don’t want to,” I say, reaching for my keys, but stopping myself and leaving them. This isn’t my place. It’s his.

I step out into the night, no idea where I’m going to go.

THREE

TOBI

Five Months Later

The door to my room opens, letting light into the dark domain I’ve existed in for…I don’t know how long. Doesn’t really matter. It hurts my eyes, and I squint against the intrusion.

“Jesus. Have you left this room since moving in?” Rhys’ voice makes my heart hurt. Every time I see him I’m reminded my best friend choose my brother and went behind my back to date him. Betrayal rears its ugly head, taking the numbness away to replace it with anger. Anger is the protector of the heart, I guess.

“Why do you even care?” I bite out, but my voice cracks with lack of use. When was the last time I actually spoke to someone?