Safety Net (39 page)

Annie, the lady from the Player
Relations Department, wasn’t pleased that Lowell had decided where to live on
his own without consulting her first. Feeling he’d misstepped, he took her to
see the place and meet the property manager and look over the contract, and as
they left, Annie said, “It’s a nice place and a great deal. Good for you. But
listen, don’t piss them off. No brawls, no wild parties, no orgies, you get me?
You went rogue and found this place by yourself? Fine. But this isn’t one of my
buildings. I can’t clean up any messes here.”

Lowell stared at her. “Um. That’s
not how I live.”

She looked him over. “I hope it’s
not. But I’ve been doing this a long time, kid. Worked with a lot of players.
Forgive me for not taking your word for it.” The way she said it, it was
nothing personal, so Lowell wasn’t offended. It did make him wonder about his
new teammates, however.

The first friend he made on the
team was Tobias Jennings. Jennings invited him over for an afternoon cook-out
soon after Lowell moved. Jennings and his family lived in a suburban McMansion
with a distant view of Mount Hood.

Jennings was quiet, smart, and
perceptive. He shared a wealth of information about the team and coaching
staff, and they talked about Kellen Forrester.

“Who was your QB in college?” Jennings
asked.

“Erick West.” Lowell would always
be proud to say it.

“Oh, that’s right, you went to
Crocker. They got a smart one this time. Well, Kellen’s no Erick West, but I
think he’s underrated by practically everyone. Certainly by our opponents, but
also by about half the team. If you show him you’ll be there for him, he’ll get
them to you. He’s improved a lot in the last three years.”

“I’ve watched his videos. I noticed
that last season he barely used Ted Barron. Wasn’t Barron the running back at
Nebraska who broke all those school records?”

Jennings smiled humorlessly. “Oh,
that was nothing much. Just our little QB-RB feud. Last offseason, Barron shot
his mouth off about Kellen’s accuracy. What he said amounted to a demand that
Kellen give him the ball more and let him run with it. He seemed to have
forgotten that Kellen did that two seasons ago and we didn’t see a lot of
results.”

Lowell hesitated. “That’s really why?
An entire season with barely any running plays because of that? In the NFL?”

Jennings smirked. “What? Surprised
by the egotistical divas? Welcome to the pros.”

Jennings was the exception that
proved the rule, as far as Lowell was concerned. He couldn’t spot much ego in
the guy, but then again, Jennings was thirty-three and had spent half of the
previous season on the injured list. Maybe his diva days had been in the past.

George Pell wasn’t much of a diva,
either. He was nice enough, but when Lowell tried to talk to him about playbook
specifics, Pell didn’t engage. Sometimes he seemed not to follow what Lowell
was talking about, which didn’t make much sense; Pell was an NFL TE.

Lowell mentioned it to Jennings,
and Jennings said with a sigh, “Poor George. He’s not a bright kid. He’ll do
whatever you can teach him, but sometimes it’s an uphill battle getting through
to him.”

“But shouldn’t he know all this by
now?”

“Not everyone went to Crocker,” Jennings
said drily.

Lowell met Forrester right before
summer training camp, at a carefully staged cookout for the O-line thrown by
the owners. Forrester came up to Lowell and introduced himself. He had a crisp
but not unfriendly manner.

“You’re the rookie they got from
Crocker,” Forrester said. “Erick West. As good as they say?”

Lowell smiled. “He’s better than
they say.”

“I hope New Haven thinks so,” Forrester
said gravely.

Before training began, it was all
very surreal, and Lowell tried to keep in touch with his family and friends as
much as possible to stay grounded. Erick was so busy his responses were short
and late. Dale made repeated promises to call soon. Kryzinski had relocated to
Michigan to go to grad school and was buried under last minute details. Wotoa
had gotten an assistant coaching job at a high school in Arizona and was in the
middle of getting set up there. Benton was traveling across Asia with his
current girlfriend. Lowell heard from Dempsey, whose recovery was complete and
would be starting for Crocker in the new season, and got an e-mail from Andy.
Andy asked about Oregon and told a couple of funny anecdotes about Botswana. Candace
had moved to Florida for grad school. She sent Lowell an e-mail with “lots of
hugs” and said she’d save some fan-love for Portland even though most of it was
reserved for New Haven.

Lowell’s mom drove out to visit and
Lowell almost passed out from the relief of having her around. His mom always
listened to him, gave him her opinion without pushing it into advice, and kept
him levelheaded. They spent time with her friend from college and got to see
more of the area around Portland. Lowell wondered if he should learn to
snowboard. The mountains were awesome.

Things felt better, more natural,
once training started, even though it was different than it had been at
Crocker. The facilities, the staff, the organization -- every detail had been
thought of, everything was there for the players. But even in a different environment,
it was football and it was familiar. Lowell felt truly happy for the first time
since he’d been signed.

Adjusting to the schedule took a
bit longer. When training ended for the day, Lowell had nothing to do but study
the playbook and work out. He had never lived alone before and understood now
why some of the rookies rented places together. He missed the easy camaraderie
of dorm life. 

Most of the rest of the team were
married or had girlfriends. A few of the unattached younger guys were tomcats.
They invited him out, but after one loud, obnoxious party that only made Lowell
feel lonelier, he declined the next invitation.

Back in Portland after a
disappointing loss on the road, Lowell paced through his loft, phone in hand,
desperately wanting to call Erick. He did a timezone reality check: Erick would
be in bed by now. Imagining Erick in bed made Lowell’s mood plummet.

He could call Dale even though it
was late, but he wasn’t sure talking to Dale would cheer him up. Dale’s life in
D.C. was completely foreign to Lowell: a nine-to-five office job, commuting by
public transportation, saving pennies to get by, and devoid of football. During
their last phone call Dale had talked about going on a date and it had been all
Lowell could do not to ask about Andy.

Lowell slouched on the sofa and
channel-surfed until he stumbled across one of the sports networks replaying
the lowlights from the Knights’ recent loss. He would see and hear plenty about
their mistakes tomorrow; no need to wallow in them now. He switched off the TV
and went online to read about the weekend’s college football games. He skipped
the PWAC news and skimmed through game analyses for the conferences he didn’t
care deeply about.

Eventually, after following links
and reading related news and opinion pieces, he landed on a Michigan State blog
entry discussing the Rose Bowl. He was pleasantly surprised to see Crocker
praised by their opponent’s supporters; the writer called Erick “the real deal”
and “an NFL-level QB.” Had it really only been ten months ago? It felt like
years. Reading the recap filled Lowell with a sweet nostalgia.

Deep in the comments he found:
I
heard West is gay. Still a good QB tho
.

Lowell froze. After staring at the
screen for a moment, he read the replies:

No
way!!!!

who
sez?

Haterz
gonna hate and make up lies. #goCrocker

The original commenter responded:
I’m
a Jr at Crocker. Never met West, but the guys he hung around with ALL THE TIME
were gay. In 2 years never saw him on a date w/a girl. He was ALWAYS with guys.
Doesn’t matter. Still an awesome QB. We need him back! #goCrocker

Lowell’s stomach churned queasily.
He looked at the commenter’s profile but it was scanty. He let go of the awful
thought that this had come from a former teammate; he couldn’t imagine anyone
on the Crocker team posting something like this, no matter what they might have
thought privately. He went back to the thread. There weren’t any replies to the
last comment. He couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or a bad sign.

He looked up from the screen,
adjusting his eyes to the gloom around him. Here it was: his worst fear. It
didn’t matter how confident Erick was -- once their secret was out, it could
destroy Erick’s career. Was this why New Haven hadn’t started Erick? Was the
rest of the team shutting him out? Or, a worse thought: what if the Hawks
started him and his O-line decided he wasn’t worth defending? What if someone
on the other team decided a career-ending tackle was what Erick needed “to set
him straight"?

Lowell got up and paced, tempted to
call Dale. He stopped and looked out the window, watching the empty street
below. He imagined Dale groggily asking, “And what about your career, homeboy?
If he’s outed, so are you.”

What career?
Lowell thought,
then quickly wished it back. Being in the pros had been his dream since high
school, but it wasn’t happening the way he had thought it would. And he had never
expected to fall in love with someone he could never be with. Why was
everything so complicated?

After searching online for traces
of “Erick West is gay” rumors -- and finding none in the prominent sites --
Lowell went to bed. He checked the time. It was almost four-thirty in New
Haven.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah.” Erick’s voice was rough and
sleep-edged and it made Lowell ache to hold him. “But my alarm’s about to go
off, anyway. What’s up? Is something wrong?”

Lowell curled on his side and
tucked the phone by his ear. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I wanted to call you
earlier but it was too late.”

“You should be asleep. Don’t you
have meetings in the morning?”

Lowell yawned. “Yeah, but. Hey,
listen. Can I ask you something? Why isn’t New Haven putting you in any games?
Is there something going on?”

Erick didn’t reply immediately, and
Lowell put in, “I’m not fishing for league gossip, I swear. I’m worried, that’s
all.”

Erick laughed lightly, a laugh
Lowell knew wasn’t heartfelt. He clenched his jaw.

“Don’t worry about me,” Erick said.
“Seriously. There’s nothing wrong here. I think... Um, look. I don’t know
exactly what the coaches have in mind, but I’ll get out there, I’m sure. It’s
still early, right? And my preseason numbers weren’t amazing.”

Lowell relaxed slightly. “What
about your guys? Your O-line and receivers. Do you get along with them okay? Do
they like you?”

This time Erick’s laugh was
genuine. “Lowell, what on earth? Yeah, we get along fine. They’re great guys.
You know our center? He wants his daughter to go to Crocker. We’ve been talking
about it a lot. It’s a good group, a good team. I mean, yeah, it’s not like
back in school. Being around these guys who’ve been playing for five or ten
years... It must be the same with Portland.”

Lowell yawned again. “We’re a
younger team, but yeah, I know what you mean. I feel like a freshman again.”

“I don’t, thank God,” Erick said. “Being
a freshman sucked. I like being a rookie. Most of the time.”

Lowell smiled and closed his eyes,
picturing Erick’s enthusiasm.

“Lowell? You’re falling asleep,
aren’t you? Go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Lowell murmured. “I miss
you,” he added later, and wasn’t sure if Erick had already hung up or if he had
even said it aloud.

-----

Six games into the Knights’ season,
Tobias Jennings got an ankle injury. Lowell started for five games and made one
touchdown. The Knights didn’t make the playoffs and finished the season 8-8.
New Haven finished 3-13. Erick started the final two games of the season, one
of which they won.

The last week of the season, Lowell
met Marie Ginanni. They got stuck in the elevator together in Lowell’s
building.

Dale found out about Lowell’s
marriage from Andy. From the guy in Botswana. Which made him even more
disinclined to believe it, so he called Andy early -- they called each other
once a month -- and when Andy answered, Dale said, “You are so full of shit and
it’s not even funny.”

“I miss you, too,” Andy murmured
drily. “This is about Lowell? You got my e-mail?”

“Yes. You’re making this up, right?”

“I set up a news alert for Lowell
and that’s what came in this week. You don’t believe me, why don’t you search
for it yourself? You have to call Botswana to verify this?”

Dale was typing on the laptop. “That’s
my point. How does the guy in Botswana know about this before I-- Holy shit.
Ho.Ly.Shit.” He scanned the notice from Lowell’s hometown newspaper. There was
no photo so he searched for pictures of Marie Ginanni. “Huh. She’s not
bad-looking. She looks short.”

“Dale.”

“Hm?” Dale tried to find a picture
of Marie and Lowell together.

“Why’d you call me?”

Dale knew that tone of voice. Damn.
He never could fool Andy, not for a second. He sat back in the crappy chair
that was the only place off the bed to sit in his rental. When he didn’t reply,
Andy said, “You could’ve found this out without calling me first. I take it
Lowell didn’t tell you.”

“He sure as fuck didn’t. But I
haven’t talked to him in a while, not since the season ended.” Dale rubbed his
thumb along the side of his phone. “I wanted to talk to you, hear your voice.
So sue me.”

Andy sighed a little. “You don’t
make this easy.”

“Because it’s not easy. It’s still
not easy. I miss you.”

“I know. I miss you, too,” Andy
said quietly.

After a long, depressing silence,
Dale asked, “How’re the kids?”

“Exhausting. Where do they get all
that energy? I tried to explain American football to them but they’re not
interested. The only football is soccer. Sorry.”

“At least you tried. Are you going
to Gaborone this weekend?”

“I’m there now. It’s already the
weekend over here,” Andy said, amused.

“Oh, right.” Dale frowned. “Crap. I
called pretty late, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. I wasn’t asleep.
I was reading.” Andy paused. “The book you sent me, actually.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s interesting, yeah. Thanks for
sending it. Look, it’s late. And expensive. You better go.”

Dale kicked at the floor. “Yeah.”

“Talk to Lowell.”

“Oh, believe me, I intend to,” Dale
said. “Listen. Can I call you again next week? Our regular call?”

Andy hesitated before answering. “Yeah.
Okay. Our regular call.”

Dale smiled. “Bye. Good night.”

Andy sighed. “Bye.”

Dale hung up and toyed with his
phone, missing Andy so much he couldn’t stand it. He got up and paced around,
then left and went to the gym to work off his restlessness. Craig was there,
and they exchanged polite hellos. Dale tried to feel guilty for dumping him
right when things were heating up but couldn’t quite manage it. He’d done what
he needed to do for himself. He wondered if this was how Lowell had felt.

He called Erick the next day.

“You know about Lowell?” he asked
cautiously.

“Yeah, I heard about it.” Erick
didn’t sound morose, but Dale couldn’t get a read on him.

“He didn’t tell you beforehand?”

“He told me about Marie,” Erick
said with a little laugh. “I knew he liked her and things were good between
them... But, uh, no. He didn’t tell me he was planning anything like this.”

Dale had taken a walk and was
outside in a neighborhood park. He slowly followed the bike path. “I’m not sure
how much planning was involved,” Dale said. “One of the Portland notices
mentioned they got married in Vegas.”

“Oh, shit, really?” Erick laughed. “Wow.
That’s... huh.”

“Huh is one way of putting it.”

“You talked to him yet?” Erick
asked.

“No. Have you?”

Erick didn’t immediately reply. “I
wasn’t sure if I should call right now. This would be their honeymoon, right?”

Dale stopped. “Oh. Crap. I guess so.”
He resumed his walk and said, “What’re you going to say to him?”

“Aside from congratulations? That I
want to meet her. I thought I’d invite them here.”

“Erick.”

“What?” He paused. “What’s with
that tone of voice?”

Dale frowned. “I don’t buy your
bullshit. You should know that about me by now.”

“What bullshit? Dale. It’s not like
that. Seriously. I... I kind of--”

“You kind of what? What did you do?”

Erick said in a small but defensive
voice, “I kind of gave him my blessing. I told him it was good if he fell in
love with other people.”

Dale winced. Could just imagine it.
What idiots. Honestly.

“I didn’t expect him to get
married,” Erick admitted. “Not, like, so soon.”

Dale turned back on the bike path. “What
about you?” he asked curiously. “Are you thinking of getting married? To
Candace?”

There was a long pause. “Um. I’ve
thought about it, yeah.”

Dale sighed deeply, stopping to
look around at the trees. “Of course. Well. I guess that’s all problems solved,
then. You two married men will be perfectly happy in your new heterosexual
lives, I’m sure.”

“Dale.”

Dale rubbed his face. “Sometimes I
can’t take you and Lowell being so fucked-up, you know? There are times when I
want to push you both off a cliff.”

“I can understand that,” Erick said
with such calm, sincere sympathy that Dale was reminded why, despite
everything, he could never remain pissed at Erick for longer than two seconds.
Erick asked gently, “Heard from Andy lately?”

Dale laughed bitterly. “He’s the
one who told me about Lowell. I called him yesterday. He’s doing okay. Busy
with the kids.” He stopped to kick at a dead branch along the side of the bike
path. “In fucking Botswana.”

“Couldn’t you visit him?”

“The only time I could take off was
Christmas and this past Christmas, there was no way. It’s fucking expensive,
bro. Takes two days to get there.”

A lady jogged by with her dog
beside her. The dog stopped to sniff Dale’s shoes and Dale rubbed its head and
ears.

“I can lend you the money, if it’s
that,” said Erick. “Any time. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Thanks.” Dale smiled softly. He
wished he could see Erick right now. Missed his crazy ass more than he ever
imagined he would. “I’ll keep it in mind. Hey, Erick?”

“Yeah?”

“Come and visit again. It’s been
too damn long.”

“I’ll do that.” Dale could hear the
smile in Erick’s voice. “Shit, yeah. It’s been too long. When’s good? Season’s
over, I’ve got time right now.”

Dale grinned. “I was gonna say, how
soon can you get here, but that would make me sound pathetic so why don’t we
say week after next?”

Erick chuckled. “Week after next it
is, bro. We can be pathetic together.”

“You make it sound so wonderful,
gee, I can hardly wait.”

Two Fridays later, Erick called him
at work to say he was staying at a place about ten miles from Dale’s place. There
was a steakhouse near the hotel and they went out for dinner, catching part of
the Orioles preseason opener on TV at the bar.

“Bryan Boylan’s gonna play
baseball,” Erick said wonderingly. “You know he played for Crocker? He got an
offer. Some farm team but his agent said after a year he can probably get to
the majors.”

Dale had forgotten Boylan had
played baseball as well. “Damn. Kicker like Boylan? What a waste.”

“It is. I always said his field
goals were a work of art. But I guess he didn’t like the odds of getting
drafted. Did you see his winning field goal in the Washington game?”

Dale rubbed his thumb along his
beer glass. “No. Gotta be honest, it was too hard to watch Crocker this year. I
mean, besides not having a TV and having to look for clips online.” He
shrugged. “Without you and Lowell there. Wotoa. Even Benton.” He looked at
Erick. “I tried to watch the first game. It made me miss it too much.”

Erick winced. “Oh, bro. Maybe I
shouldn’t ask this, but how do you stand it? How can you live without football?”

Dale laughed a little. “Surprisingly,
I can. I miss it, though. I miss it all the time. But I keep busy so I don’t
think about it.”

Erick said, “We should toss the
ball around while I’m here. Shit, I didn’t think to bring a ball. Do you have
one?”

The ache was sweet and deep. Dale
smiled. “Yes, I have one.”

After dinner they hung out in Erick’s
plush hotel room and talked for hours, Erick catching Dale up on news of their
Crocker teammates and recounting the highlights of Crocker’s 8-4 season. Dale
wondered about all the emphasis on Crocker when surely New Haven should be the
real story, but Erick had only started for them twice and one of those was a
loss, so Dale didn’t ask about it.

Dale filled Erick in on his
employment prospects. Through the internship he’d made some good connections
and had already interviewed at an international development bank and at a
research office connected to the District of Columbia. The bank job sounded
more exciting -- lots of travel -- but the competition would be fierce. Dale
had heard through the grapevine that he was up against a Harvard MBA and a
woman with an economics Ph.D. from Yale. Not even counting the thirty other
applicants with qualifications similar to his.

“The job’s entry-level,” Dale
sighed. “That’s how desperate people are these days.” He arched an eyebrow. “Those
of us who actually have to work for a living and pay off our student loans. Unlike
you and the golden boy who get to play football and make millions.”

He was teasing, but Erick looked
apologetic. “Football’s all I ever wanted to do,” he said.

“I know,” said Dale. “And you
earned your place. I’m just giving you a hard time because you’re an easy
target.”

Erick threw a pillow at him. “Thanks
a lot, shithead.”

At some point in the evening they
both got a little silly, as if they’d been drinking. Erick suggested they call
Lowell. After they debated about it and giggled over what they could say, Dale
made the call. They got Lowell’s voicemail and Erick left a ridiculous message
saying he was a fan of “the best tight end in Oregon,” had followed Lowell
since Crocker, couldn’t wait for Lowell to get more starts for the Knights.

Dale stared at him as Erick hung
up. “Homie, you are fucking crazy sometimes.”

“Shit, was it too much? He’ll know
it’s me, right?”

“If he doesn’t, he’ll be as dumb as
he always claimed he was.”

“I never understood that,” Erick
sighed. “Why does he think he’s dumb? He’s one of the smartest people I know.”

Dale thought it over seriously. “Lowell
has some strange blind spots when it comes to himself. He’s not insecure,
exactly, but there are times when he doesn’t give himself enough credit.”

Erick fell silent, brooding, and
Dale changed the topic. “You drove down from New Haven? Are you gonna see your
folks?”

“Yeah. I’ll drive down the coast
and see Candace after leaving here, then stop in Virginia on the way back.
Figured I’d make a big road trip out of it.”

Dale raised his eyebrows. “Are you
going down there to propose? Lowell fell, so now you have to fall? You freaks.”

Erick frowned at him. “She came to
visit a few times, she came for Christmas. We, um, got back together.”

“Did you tell Lowell?”

“Of course.”

Dale lifted his eyes to the ceiling
and sighed heavily. “Of course. Mystery of Menacker’s wedding suddenly solved.”

“You don’t think it’s like that, do
you? Honestly?” Erick asked, uneasy.

“Yeah, I do.”

“But we talked about it... And he
knows...”

Dale said, “What Lowell knows and
what Lowell does are two separate things. You gotta know that by now.”

Erick chewed on his lower lip. “Oh.”

Dale rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Shit,
is it that late already? I better go. Landlady doesn’t like it when I come back
this late. The stairs creak.”

“Stay here,” Erick offered.

Dale looked pointedly at the one
bed in the room. “Where?”

Erick rolled his eyes. “It’s a
king. We can share. Jeez. We used to room together all the time.”

Not in the same bed
, Dale
thought. But Erick had a point. It was no big deal, and Dale didn’t relish the
thought of getting in so late and getting chewed out by the landlady in the
morning.

While Dale stripped down to his
underwear, Erick got into bed and kicked most of the blankets to one side. Dale
slid in under a heavy mound of blanket and stayed motionless against the far
edge of the mattress. Erick switched off the light.

Dale closed his eyes and remembered
the last time he’d been in bed with someone -- with Craig, which had been nice
and fun and the beginning of the end because Dale could see Craig wanted more
than Dale was willing to give.

Dale remembered the last time he’d
been in bed with Andy, and his mind went over and over it again, like touching
a bruise that hadn’t quite healed, finding all the spots where it still hurt.

Erick said quietly, “Huh. The last
time I shared a bed with a guy was Lowell. In Indiana. We stayed up all night
talking.”

Dale opened his eyes. “Talking?
That was a wasted opportunity, wasn’t it?”

Erick shifted onto his back and chuckled
quietly. “His mom was asleep upstairs, so talking seemed safer than fucking.
But looking back at it now, yeah, it was kind of a waste, I guess.”

Dale blinked up at the ceiling. The
freeway was close enough that the lights came in from the window because Erick
hadn’t pulled the curtains shut all the way. “Jeez, Erick. Shit.”

“What?” Erick added, a smile in his
voice, “You knew we were fucking. You had to have known.”