“Ryan, I’ll give you five grand to come home with me for anight.”
Five thousanddollars.
“I won’t tell yourmom.”
School money. I stared into her car and considered my options as she continued to sweeten thedeal.
“No video recorders, Ryan. Just us. Have you ever been alone with awoman?”
“Yes, lots of girls fromschool.”
She laughed and swatted in theair.
“I mean a woman, Ryan. Not a collegegirl.”
She reached across and opened the passengerdoor.
* * *
Ihated myself.I couldn’t stand looking at myself in the mirror. My grades were shit. I was shit. All of this ran through my head as I paced around my room after I woke up from a nightmare. I couldn’t live like this anymore. I was tired of hurting all of thetime.
I stumbled to the bathroom that I shared with Dave and looked in the medicine cabinet. I had hoped I had another box of antacid tablets but didn’t have any luck finding one. I eyed Dave’s pain pills. It was a prescription for him to ease the pain of a herniated disc in hisback.
I opened the bottle, and when I discovered it was full, I had no conscience about pouring a few in my hand. I carried them back to my room and set them on my desk before taking one. One would be okay, and maybe it would take the pain away not only in my stomach buteverywhere.
I woke up feeling no better, but no worseeither.
I had barely made it through my last semester of my sophomore year at USC. By barely, I don’t mean that my grades were good enough to just get by. But I mean living. I had barely been alive from the point of my dad’s death. I didn’t understand it and that frustrated me further. I hadn’t been able to wrap my head around why I had been soaffected.
Before I left the house to turn in my plot development project, I checked my emails. I had a few scathing ones from Marie and my mom.What else was new?I also had one fromChad.
“Get out of the slammer, bro?” I said under mybreath.
The subject line read “USC Third baseman.” I frowned as I double clicked on his name. I thought it was an interesting subject line and was ready to see one of his threats. A threat actually would have been preferred to what was actuallythere.
The email was addressed to my entire coaching staff, and I was copied on the email. My heart felt like it was going to explode and the ache in the pit of my stomach grew exponentially with each passing second. The body of the email had one line; “Thought you’d like to see your third baseman amid hishobby.”
There were five attachments and they ranged from various different parts of my life. I shut the computer down and went to my room. I closed the door and sat under my window as I tried to think of what to do. The email had been sent within the last hour. My life wasover.
Although my life was over, I had had a responsibility to turn in my screenwriting class project. I made my way to my professor’s office and put it in the drop box for assignments. Technically the semester was over for me; just like my time atUSC.
I headed to the locker room and planned on cleaning out my locker. Even if they weren’t going to expel me, I would never be able to face any of them. With the season being over, there were only a few guys in the gym working out. When I walked by the coach’s offices, the head coach stood from hischair.
Shit, he had seen. I knew hehad.
“Ryan.” He motioned for me to enter the office. I couldn’t look at him. I shut the door behind me and sat in front of his desk. “Ryan, I don’t know what to say. I’d ask how long this had been going on, but by judging your age in the videos,” my coach’s voice trailed off. “Is the sender your brother?” When I hadn’t answered right away, he pressed me for an answer. “The brother that broke your ribs lastyear?”
I nodded and continued to look down. I had too much respect for him to make him look at me. “I’m sorry you had to find out like that just how bad and dirty Iam.”
“Ryan! You are not at fault. You need to report this.Ineed to reportthis.”
I understood. In some respects, it was the same as in high school. I knew he had some obligation to report it to the authorities. Maybe my brother would go off to prison and then die there too. Then I’d have the guilt of sending two family members to theirdemise.
“Do you even know who all those peopleare?”
I shook my head followed by a deepbreath.
“Sorry; I know some of them.” I focused on the worn spot on the knee of my jeans as I admitted the roles of my family. “My dad’s in most of them. My mom and brother are there. Sometimes hisgirlfriend.”
