Ian barged his way into the locker room. He was fully pissed off. Michelle had just dumped him for some dude in band. Band, of all things! She had rambled on and on about how she cared for him, but he just didn’t open up like Band Nerd did, wasn’t emotional enough, blah blah blah. He hadn’t really listened, due to the roaring in his ears. So what, if she wanted some sweaty band geek who, what, wrote poems or some shit, instead of him? That was her loss. She’d probably come crawling back anyway, once she realized Ian was clearly the better catch. But by then, he’d have gotten a new, hotter girlfriend, and would laugh her away.
He marched over to the sinks, and splashed cool water on his face. He just wanted to get out to practice and work out all this anger. He couldn’t stand feeling the tightness in his chest, the burn in his throat. He just needed a long, hard, workout, and he’d be fine. He stared at his reflection in the streaky mirror. He had to pull it together. If he was too angry, too aggressive out there, Coach would yell at him, tell him to get himself under control.
Ian stiffened as he heard something behind him. He thought he was alone. He listened hard. There was some kind of snuffling sound coming from behind the lockers, near the door to the gym. Ian followed the noise, and as he turned the corner, he was Jake sitting on the bench, tears rolling down his face.
“Damn it,” Ian muttered. He didn’t want to deal with this shit. He glanced up at the clock. The rest of the team would be here soon. He walked briskly over to Jake, slamming an open locker to announce his presence.
“Dude, what’s up?” Ian said loudly, trying to startle Jake out of his tears. But Jake just looked up at him, water still leaking from his eyes, and gave a loud sniff. Ian fought back an eyeroll, then leaned against the locker across from his teammate. “Look, I know your mom just died and everything, but come on. You’ve got to pull it together. The rest of the team is going to be here any minute. You don’t want them to think you’re a pussy, right?”
That backfired. Jake let out some kind of strangled moan, and the tears slipped down his face faster than before. Ian swore to himself. Definitely not what he needed right now. He could feel his own anger rising again, that ache in his chest almost unbearable.
“Seriously. You gotta man up. You can cry later. We’ve got practice, man,” Ian pleaded, hearing the footsteps and shouts of their teammates.
Twenty guys streamed into the locker room, trading barbs, discussing homework. As usual, Cody was in the lead. Their captain was always in the lead, making sure everyone did their part, kept things together. Ian really didn’t want to be seen with Jake and his tears, but it was too late. Cody had already turned the corner, already seen Jake’s hunched form, Ian leaning against the locker, arms crossed.
The boys quieted as they realized what was going on. Hushed whispers filled the air, and everyone waited for Cody to do something. Ian smirked to himself. If he couldn’t get Jake to shut up, Cody could. He watched as Cody slowly made his way over to Jake, whose little gasping breaths could be heard over the muttering of the boys. Cody sat next to him, and to Ian’s astonishment, instead of yelling, he said softly:
“How you doing, Jake?”
The rest of the guys fell silent as Jake’s sobs rose in volume. Ian watched numbly as Cody put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, keeping him steady as he rocked back and forth. He was murmuring something to Jake, but Ian couldn’t hear what. The burning in his throat returned, almost making him cough. He turned his gaze away from the boys on the bench across from him, raking his eyes over the rest of the team. Most of them looked as uncomfortable as he felt.
He wanted desperately to get out of the locker room, to just run and run and run. Run away from the boy crying in front of him. Run away from his memories of Michelle’s soft hand in his, of laughing with her at his buddies’ antics, of sitting out on the cold bleachers, talking about the future. He didn’t want to deal with this shit.
He heard Cody say something else, and a shaky laugh from Jake. He looked back, relieved to see Jake rubbing his face, Cody standing up, turning back to the group.
“Come on, guys, quit standing around! We’ve got drills to do,” he directed, and the guys scattered to their lockers, getting ready for practice.
Ian joined them, his body going through the routine. He glanced every so often at Jake, but he seemed fine, back to normal, if a little quieter than usual. Finally, they were all ready, and Cody held the door to the gym open as the team filed past him.
But something held Ian back.
“I’ll be right out,” he said, not quite making eye contact. Cody looked at him for a moment, before nodding briskly.
“Two minutes, Beaufort.” The door swung shut behind him, and Ian was alone.
He went back to the sinks, splashing his face again. He needed to get under control. Not only was his chest so tight it felt like he was in a vice, but his eyes pricked, his throat felt like it was on fire, and he felt like he was shaking. He had never been so angry.
Michelle’s voice floated through his memory, sharp with what he had thought was anger. You don’t feel anything, Ian! You’re just angry, all the time. I can’t watch you go on like this, not anymore. He thought he could still smell the scent of her shampoo on his clothes, and to his shock, he felt a tear slide down his face. He brushed it away, embarrassed. But then he remembered Jake, rocking back and forth. He remembered Cody, sitting with him. Ian took a shuddering breath.
He had always thought this feeling was anger. Maybe it was something else…
© The Lightning Tower, 2020