Page 33 of The Tryout

It goes quiet for a couple of minutes, then a knock sounds on my door. Going to open it, I find Avery smiling on the other side.

“Sorry, that took a little longer than I planned. Dad always has a lot of opinions about new spaces. You ready to go?”

“No problem, man.”

We head to the garage, where Avery seems to have easily found our reserved spot.

“Do you mind if we go to the Target up North? It’s supposed to be a lot bigger than the closer one.”

I shrug, having all the time in the world.

“How are your dads? They think the apartment is okay?”

I always find it wild how much input the parents of some of my teammates have in their lives, even into their twenties and thirties; showing parents around a new space is nothing. I’m pretty sure last year Markie’s mom ran his entire home purchase; he saw the place for the first time at closing.

“Oh, yeah, as predicted, Dad is wild about the view and the natural light. The blank walls make him itch a little, but he’ll cope.”

“And your…other dad?”

“Pops.”

I’ll try to remember that. It had never occurred to me that a kid with two same-sex parents would have to figure out names for them both. Mostly because the idea of a kid with two same-sex parents had not occurred to me for an embarrassingly long time.

“He’s not into spaces the same way Dad is. I believe he said, quote, ‘It’s nicer than where I lived at twenty-four and cheaper than your place in Westwood. What’s not to like?’”

I laugh at that, appreciating the straightforward view.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Nah. With queer parents, there are extra…steps involved, having a kid. They were happy with one.”

As he pulls onto the highway, I wonder if it would be rude to ask about those extra steps. Everything I know about sex comes from a Missouri high school health class, which means I’m lucky to know anything. Before I can think of a nicer way to ask Were you conceived in a test tube, Avery jumps in with his own question.

“What about you? Mom, dad, sibs? You’re from Missouri, right? So that’s close enough for visits?”

My eyes go wide. I’m such a dumbass – of course asking about his dads was going to mean he asked about my family. He’s a polite guy.

Luckily for me, he mistakes my dread for overwhelm.

“Sorry, that was like, eighteen questions at once. Pick one!”

I take a breath. I know I’m gonna have to tell him at least part of this story sooner or later; might as well be now. I decide to start with a question of my own.

“How’d you know I’m from Missouri?”

He cringes a bit, as though embarrassed to be caught out.

“I…checked your stats? When Jamie said he had a friend on the team in Iowa, I wanted to figure out who you were before I showed up the first day.”

This time, my silence is due to the thought that Jamie Carter, franchise forward, thinks of me as a friend. Finally, I respond.

“So, I grew up in a place called Poplar Bluff, which is a tiny town in the Ozarks.”

Given the confusion on his face, I hope Avery knows where the Ozarks are.

“When you say tiny, how big are we talking?”

“About fifteen thousand, maybe a little more.”