I hug him tightly and for a minute, it’s just the two of us in the middle of the gym. All the bodies; noise and voices and laughter fade away. The lights dim. It’s just me and Lemon.
Until someone comes over. “Made you a plate, Coach.”
Lemon steps back to accept the plate offered to him and gives Seth a smile. “Thank you.”
Seth beams at him before turning that smile on me. Then he’s skipping away. Lemon’s eyebrows meet as he watches.
“He’s a goalie,” I say in explanation.
“I see.”
“Goalies are all kinds of special. A very different breed of person.”
He smiles and looks at his plate.
We’re split up after that. I step back to watch as he’s approached. First by our players and then the coaches take their chances. Lemon’s gaze always seeks mine out, as if he’s making sure I haven’t left. So I make it a point to remain where he can always find me.
After an hour or so, I see him slip out the side door. I give him a minute and when he doesn’t come back in, I follow. He’s sitting on the steps, so I take a seat beside him.
“Everyone okay?”
Lemons nods.
“You angry that I messed up your practice?”
He grins and shakes his head.
Sighing, Lemon presses his arm under mine and lays his head against my shoulder. “I… I can’t believe they all did this for me.”
“They’ve never not wanted to be your friend, you know.”
He sighs again, but this time there’s sadness in it. “When I was eight, I had this friend. We did everything together. Played and ran and colored. We tried on my sister’s dresses and painted our nails, did each other’s hair. We played in the dirt and raced cars at school. All through the summer that we both turned nine, we were inseparable. The week before school started, he had to go on vacation with his family. I was bummed but so excited as each day passed because my friend was coming back. The first day of fourth grade, he looks at me with such an ugly face and says, ‘we’re not friends anymore, Lemon. It’s not cool to wear dresses and paint your nails if you’re not a girl.’ I went home sobbing, of course. One of the few times my father actually said anything worthwhile was that afternoon when he sat me down and said, ‘Lemon, you have a choice here. You can be like the other kids and do what they do and be their friend. Or you can be you. Whoever that is. And take the world as it comes at you.’”
“That’s good advice,” I say.
He nods absently. “I chose to be their friend. We played tag and wrestled and joined football and other stupid shit. I hated all of it except football. And finally, I decided one day that I just… didn’t want to play what they’re playing. I didn’t like to get muddy. I didn’t want to wrestle. But I did love football, so I continued to play football. I had a harder time as a younger kid than I did as a teenager. By that point, I was good. However, I was small, so it kind of limited my position on the field, which was fine. Small meant fast, so I was a running back. I came out when I was sixteen and the world got a little lonelier. My team was good to me, but we weren’t friends. They didn’t let anyone bully me or hurt me, but we weren’t friends.”
I wrap my arm around his shoulders and kiss the top of his head.
“While I thought college would be different, it was a lot of the same. I have a loud personality. I like what I like and I won’t tone it down for any reason. It became apparent by the time I was twenty that I was just a lot for everyone. For the guys I wanted to date. For the people I wanted to be friends with. College was worse than high school in that respect because I had these expectations that things would be better. We were adults now. We were allowed to be ourselves and wouldn’t have to live through our immature peers bullying.”
Lemon shifts so he can press his face into my chest. While I know he hates it when I mess up his hair, I gently brush my fingers through his curls.
“I decided that I just wouldn’t let anyone get close. If they couldn’t get close, I couldn’t be hurt. Rejection by someone you’re attracted to sucks. It’s a blow to your self-esteem and always kind of leaves you wondering why they’re not interested. But rejection from someone who you want to be friends with, or someone you thought was your friend, is much worse. The first isn’t romantically or physically into you. That’s cool. We all have preferences and shit. But the latter doesn’t like you as a person. After a while, it’s just been less painful not to allow anyone to get close enough to hurt me.”
Lemon had given me a glimpse behind his massive walls in the hotel room that one night, but it feels like he’s let them fall with me. He’s completely open and vulnerable, letting me see all the bruises that shitty people have left on him over the years.
I’d like to tell him that the world is different now, but I know it’s not. People are shitty everywhere.
“The kids are different. I already know that they’re here for a set number of years before they leave. It’s not a choice for them. This is a single stop on their life’s journey. I don’t need to be quite so… distant from them. Besides, I’m in a unique position where I get to help shape them, so I want them toknow that I, as a coach, am always on their side. But this is a planned temporary. They leave because they’re only here for a set number of years.Friendsleave because they don’t like you. Or you’re too much for them.”
“How long have you known these coaches?” I ask.
He glances at me and shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re the newest. Before you… I guess Coach Michael with field hockey. You know him?”
Smirking, I nod. “I do.”
“He’s been here a couple years.”
