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"Hey Mama," I answer. "Everything alright?"
"Oh, everything's fine. Just wanted to tell you I saw the news. Not sure if I should congratulate you or not." I hear the tinkle of ice against glass in the background. She still drinks too much, but she keeps busy with her job at the diner and doesn't make it anyone else's problem, so I don't figure it's my place to say anything. We talk now and then. Usually I'm the one to reach out to her, like I did after getting signed to the NFL, but she's started calling me more often, usually after she's seen me on tv or heard someone at the diner boasting about having a famous person from our little backwoods town. She's proud, I think, even if she doesn't put it into words. And she never asks for anything. She was actually pissed when I bought her a house, but eventually accepted and moved in. It's a modest little two-bedroom place in town, close enough to the diner that she can walk to work, and since it's paid for, she doesn't have to kill herself to keep the lights on. I don't think we'll ever hug and cry into each other's arms about all the things in our pasts that hurt us. That's just not who we are as people. But we're healing and growing day by day, and I think that's pretty damn awesome.
"Yeah, I'm not really sure either, if I'm being honest. But it'll be alright."
"Bryant okay with it?"
My lips quirk. Mama seems to like Bryant, for whatever reason. I think his surly nature appeals to her inner grouch.
"We both agreed it was time."
"Well, I hope that little bitch falls face first into some hot tar. Maybe when her outsides are as ugly as her insides, she'll keep her mouth to herself."
That has me laughing into the phone. If that's not support, I don't know what is. "Thanks, Mama."
"Enjoy your party," she says before hanging up.
It takes me a few seconds to catch on to her mentioning the party. I cut my eyes over at Luke and find him watching Troy, who is sitting on the edge of the bar, animatedly telling a story that has everyone around him laughing. Luke is still just as infatuated with him as the night we walked in this very bar, looking for Bryant. That night changed both our lives.
"Did you invite my mother to this mess?"
"Of course I did," he says plainly. "Why wouldn't I? I invited everyone. Millie is in the middle of exams, otherwise she'd be here. She told me to let you know she's crashing at your place for a few days during spring break so you two can catch up."
Finally, I look around the room at everyone that's gathered, and realize he's right. Practically everyone we know is here. Some of my teammates, my coach, and a few of the Carolina Panthers’ staff are here. There are even a handful of my old team members from Groveton, and a very select few staff members that Bryant didn't hate. A wide grin crosses my face when I see Tuck Sanders walk up and shake Bryant's hand, and I excuse myself to go join them.
"Coach Sanders, how are you?"
He grabs my hand in a tight shake and thumps me on the shoulder. "Real good, son. Real good. I was just telling Bryant I've been following your rookie season, and how impressed I am. You've made us all real proud."
Aw, hell. I almost want to blush. "Thanks, Coach."
"I think you can call me Tuck now," he corrects me before looking back at Bryant. "I, uh, actually have a bit of a favor to ask you."
Bryant's demeanor melts back into his usual serious tone, his brow furrowing. "What's up, Tuck?"
"Well, I've got this player, Michael Ramy?—"
"The kicker?" Bryant asks, because of course he still follows every moment of college football. He knows exactly who Michael Ramy is and what a phenomenal kicker he is. "He's got the best conversion rate in the NCAA."
"In the last four years, yeah. He's a damn good player, and a good kid."
"He looking for representation?" I ask, assuming this is where the conversation is headed. I can tell by the way Bryant's shoulders are set that he's hoping for that very thing. I grin, watching him light up, and I know he's already brainstorming how to help Michael get the best placement for the draft. He really loves his job.
"He might be," Tuck says. "He loves football more than life itself, but he's been apprehensive about whether the NFL is the right place for him. After your press conference today, he's changed his mind. He wants to go for it."
"What changed his mind?" Bryant asks.
"You did," Tuck answers. "You both did. When you stood up and came out in front of everyone today. Seeing the two of you on the news made him believe he could pursue his dreams without having to hide who he is. So, now the Groveton College Jackals has its first ever openly gay player, hoping to enter the draft next year."
Bryant and I both look at each other, and a tingle of awareness that something big and important is brewing prickles the hairs on the back of my neck.
We didn't come out because we're brave or because we want to be made an example of, for good or bad. We just want to be left the hell alone. We did it because we're tired of the bullshit and knew that if we didn't get ahead of Aniyah's stories, it would just keep feeding her drama. It was the strongest move we could make to put her in our past, to turn her negative campaign for attention into something positive that we could both live with. Hopefully, it will blow over so we can go back to living the life we've been building together. But now, after hearing Tuck's words, I'm realizing that we have an opportunity to make a difference.
I make eye contact with Bryant, and see the same realization painted across his astonished expression. It isn't until my face is aching that I realize how widely I'm smiling.
Luke and Troy join our circle, having overheard part of the conversation. One by one, we each make eye contact and nod at each other.
“We’re in,” Luke tells Tuck, pulling him to the side to discuss specifics.
