Page 57 of The Intimacy of Control

As soon as the call hung up, I shifted us until I could press my face right against Tobi’s. Was I close enough to his ear for him to hear me? His tears were dripping onto my arms below his face. There were so many. They were so fast.

I didn’t want him to hurt anymore. His breaths were shallow and broken, only coming every few minutes. I needed him to not hurt anymore. Had I broken him?

Pushing past the blurry vision in my eyes, I started to sing to him. Just as Cal had said. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.”

My mom had been singing for me when I’d first woken up in the hospital. I never did figure out what song it was. I’d been so out of it and groggy. All I knew was that she was singing. When I’d finally opened my eyes, she’d looked so happy. There were tears trailing down her cheeks, falling down her jaw and onto her neck.

They’d glistened beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting. I remembered how disorienting it was to hear the beeping of all the machines, the steady rhythm of the ventilator in my throat, and my mom and dad trying to talk to me all at once.

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” Tobi was slowly starting to calm down, gaining more air with each gasp.

When I had seen my parents’ faces and how worried they were, I’d felt so relieved. I thought it would’ve been a turning point. But the moment the doctor took the tube out—when I could breathe and speak on my own—they’d asked the doctor when I could get back to swimming.

They were devastated when I’d immediately shaken my head. I was scared. Couldn’t they see that? I’d narrowly escaped permanent death from drowning, yet all they cared about was putting me right back into competition.

That’s all I ever was for them. A medal.

I was meant to be a gold medal, yet I’d become a disappointment.

There was too much pressure all the time. I always felt like I was suffocating, and the only time I didn’t was when I was underwater. I swam like it was the only thing I could do because it was. Swimming was the only way I could be myself. The only time I could exist and not feel so fucking guilty for it.

My parents had set me up for success. Private school. Extracurriculars. The best tutors the school could offer. Private swim lessons with one of the best coaches in California. Competitions in and out of school, flying me everywhere we needed to go. I’d been in hundreds of competitions. I’d brought home dozens and dozens of trophies, yet I’d won even more. If they weren’t first place, they weren’t allowed in the house.

They were failures.

I was a failure.

If I even so much as lost focus for one second, moved my leg barely a centimeter to the left instead of the right, or gasped for air a millisecond too soon, I could lose. I could lose the match, and I’d lose the respect I’d built with Mom and Dad.

So, when I’d woken up and heard Mom singing, I’d thought I’d had a chance. A chance at being their son, rather than their athlete. Their prize.

How fucking wrong was I.

Tobi curled deeper into me, now sniffling rather than sobbing. His voice sounded weak and soft as he pulled his glasses off and finally said something coherent. “Part of my story belongs to someone else. I can’t speak for him. I can’t tell you his side, but I can tell you mine. Just a little bit.”

I rubbed a hand up and down his back. “You don’t have to if it’s too difficult, Tobi. I understand enough.”

He shook his head. “No. No, if you’re willing to listen, I think tellin’ more people makes it…easier somehow. Less taboo. Less forbidden, I guess.”

“Tell me, then.” I slowly loosened my arms, no longer trying to keep him from hurting himself or me, but just hugging him. Just being there for him.

It took him a minute to start talking. It was like he was sifting through memories to figure out what was safe to tell me and what wasn’t. “I went to a summer camp when I was younger. Tiger Claw Camp. I met a boy who was a year older than me, and we became friends. He told me this counselor named Thompson was real fun and cool. He invited me to his cabin.” He sighed. “That boy had been abused by Thompson for multiple summers at that point. Thompson had convinced him to bring me into the mix.”

“He abused you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. He sexually abused us. Beat us. Did all sorts of real fucked-up shit to us. It’s a long, horrible tale, but I left and told my mama. The boy never told his mom, but he eventually stopped going. It destroyed him. It destroyed me. We’ve talked to each other as adults now, and we’ve made peace with each other. We’re bonded in a way no one should ever have to understand.”

“Oh my god. Tobi, I’m so sorry. I had no idea…” I wanted to squeeze him tighter. I didn’t, but I wanted to. “Did they catch him?”

“No. I reported him, but nothing came of it. Small Southern towns and all. But then I got a new stepbrother. My stepbrother abused me, too. I never told my mama. Didn’t see the point. When I left Cal, I went right into a cycle I never thought I’d get out of. Horrible, abusive men. Over and over. I’d leave one, find another one who seemed nicer, and then he’d prove me wrong. Rinse and repeat. I started drinkin’ during that time, and I never stopped.” He pulled away, looking up at me. “The point I’m makin’ is that I’m still very, very traumatized. I have a long way to go. When I saw you and Forrest like that…”

“It took you back.”

“Yeah. I felt like I was you, except it wasn’t somethin’ I wanted. I thought he was hurtin’ you, and I panicked. I’m so sorry, Jack. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

I was already shaking my head. Tobi. Sweet, kind Tobi, with one of the most gorgeous souls I’d ever met. Tobi didn’t deserve any of that. Tobi was good. Tobi was so fucking good.

How could anyone have hurt Tobi?