Page 78 of The Way We Swing

Mom found me before I could get too far. “I’m so proud of you, honey,” she said. I felt her arms wrap tightly around me, like I was nine years old again. I nearly felt like I was.

“Thank you,” I said, wiping away some stray tears.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, quickly hugging me a second time, like she didn’t want to release me.

"Yeah…” I said. The single word stung as I said it. She was right, and I knew that. Didn't make it hurt any less. “Where’s Dad?”

She nodded toward the woods beside the field. “He followed Easton. He said you’d understand.”

I got it. Easton needed a parent as much as I did. Probably even more so. “I’ll be back.”

I walked toward the trees, feet dragging on the concrete, every step away from the field heavier than the last. The moment I stepped into the shade, the noise dulled—like the woods swallowed the world whole.

Dad walked out right as I was about to take the dirt path.

“How is he?”

“He’s okay. Gavin’s with him.”

Dad gave me a hug, putting me way over my daily limit.

I followed the path, figuring they couldn’t be too deep. I heard them before I saw them.

Thwack.

Ball hitting glove.

They didn’t see me, or at least they didn’t acknowledge me. They were ten feet apart, not talking. Just throwing.

The stadium announcer’s voice drifted through the trees, distant now. They were calling St. Ed’s to the podium.

I needed ear plugs.

Easton eventually noticed me.

“You alright?” I asked.

He paused. Then came that small smile. The one he gave when things hurt but he wasn’t ready to say it. He looked back at Gavin before giving me a tiny nod. “We will be.”

I sank into a tree and watched them. It was weird. For four years, I’d fought to be on that field today, to try to win a gold medal instead of a silver one.

When junior year had ended, I’d only had two goals: to win a state title and for nobody to realize I was gay.

If someone had told me I wouldn’t get either of those things, I would have bitten their head off and then bundled up in a ball and cried.

I still might end up doing that tonight.

But now, I knew better. This wasn’t the end. Life would go on.

I’d get to live life with no secrets; I was going to survive.

I twisted the silver medal in my pocket as Easton tossed the ball softly to Gavin. I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes.

I didn't get the game. I didn't get the boy.

But I thought—I thought I was going to be okay with that.