“I did it, Dad,” I say softly, “I really did it.”
“Yes you did.” He places his huge hands on my shoulders, and I lean into him, letting him hold me steady while I take a few breaths.
Holy shit. I’m a pro-football player. This is everything—everything I’ve worked towards, everything I’ve dreamed about.
Coach Jenkins left soon after the Draft finished, and now we’re all curled up on the sofas and comfy chairs.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asks.
“Overwhelmed, drained, like it still doesn’t feel real.”
“It probably won’t,” Dad says, “even when you’re playing with the team itself. I’m not sure it ever felt real for me, even after years on the field.”
“Yeah, I can’t even get my head around playing in that stadium.”
“We’re proud of you, my love,” Mom says.
I chuckle, “Thanks.”
“Absolutely,” Dad says, “and I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again—my only advice is to try and enjoy every moment, and remember, it’s just a game.”
“I know, Dad. And I know it’s just a game, but it’s important to me.”
“We know it’s important,” Mom says, “but are you sure this is what you want? After what we talked about last year, about you being pansexual, I hate the thought of you hiding such a big part of yourself.”
“I love who I am, and I’m proud of it,” I say, “but football is what I want to do. And me being pan doesn’t blend well with that, you know it’s not exactly an inclusive sport when it comes to the LGBTQ+ community.”
“Exactly, Stephen,” Mom says, “and you’re signing up for it to be your life, when it goes against who you are.”
“Come on, Vanessa,” Dad says, “it might not even be an issue. He’s pansexual, not gay. He might end up with a girl, and it won’t make a difference.”
I wince at his words. “Uh… that’s not exactly how it works, Dad.”
“What do you mean? I thought gender didn’t matter to you, so you might end up with a girl?”
They’ve both been amazing since I came out to them, educating themselves on not just pansexuality, but bisexuality too, and everything to do with the LGBTQ+ world, but there are still some things that they, or more specifically my dad, just don’t quite understand.
“Yes, I might end up in a relationship with a girl, but it doesn’t make me any less pansexual. Just because our relationship will look ‘straight’ to the outside world, it doesn’t mean we’re in a straight relationship, because I’m not straight.”
“Huh,” he says, “I never thought about it like that.”
“It’s a type of bi erasure, when people say that if you end up in a relationship with someone, then maybe you’re not really bisexual, you’re either straight or gay depending on your partner’s gender.”
“But you’re not straight or gay, you’re still bi,” Dad says, nodding his head. “That makes sense.”
“Exactly. So whoever I end up with, or even if I stay single, I’m still pansexual. And it’s still something I’ve decided to hide so I can have a career in football.”
“And we support you one hundred percent,” Mom says. “We’re here for you whatever you want to do, whether you want to keep it hidden, or shout it from the rooftops.”
“We’re here,” Dad says, “and we’re proud.”
“Thanks. I think I’m making the right decision, besides, I haven’t met anyone yet that’s made me want to settle down, so it might not be something we have to worry about for a long time.”
“And until then, you’re going to be a Warrior,” Dad says, a huge grin crossing his face.
“I am, I really am. A Tynerston Warrior!”
I let my head fall back against the sofa; the words don’t make it any more real. I worry I’ll wake up tomorrow, and this will all have been a dream. But it isn’t, this is happening, I’m going pro. Now I just need to hold onto my spot, and not do anything to fuck it up…
