More yelling in the background, followed by a door slamming.
“Good change?”
I paused. “I don’t know yet.”
Silence.
“How’s the restaurant?” I asked.
He sighed. “Crazy. Three people quit last week, so Pa and I are scrambling. It’s the busy season too, you know, so it’s swamped every weekend.”
Every fall, my parents’ restaurant hosted weekly fundraiser nights as a way of giving back to the community. Five of their seven kids had graduated from Sierra Ridge High, which was known for being in a lower-income district. It struggled to keep some of the extracurricular activities like art or band because so few of the families could afford to enroll their kids in the programs. Having three kids who wanted to participate in those things, Ma and Pa set up fundraisers not only to sponsor the kids, but also to provide money for the supplies. It was how Mia and Paul both learned to play cello, and why I could continue to play soccer after the initial sponsorship from our neighbor.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Hopefully you’ll find some help soon.”
“Yeah. We’ll manage. We always do,” he said. For once, his words weren’t thick with guilt, and it made me wonder what brought on the change. This wasn’t the same Desmond I’d talked to just a few weeks ago. “Any hot guys out there for you?”
“Like you really want to know.”
A beat of silence, but he pressed for an answer. “Yeah, I do.”
I swirled a finger in what remained of the salsa and licked it, clutching my phone a little tighter. Des was hard to read sometimes and this new interest in me was unnerving.
“Oh. Okay, then. Well, there might be someone, but it’s nothing serious. We’re just having some fun for now.”
I hated how that sounded, though I didn’t quite know why. It was true. Jake and I weren’t anything serious, and we wouldn’t ever be, but… I also didn’t see Jake the same way I saw any of my other random hookups. I hadn’t connected with them the way Jake and I seemed to.
Des let out a low but honest laugh. “Well, he’s important enough to actually mention in a conversation. So, I guess that’s something,” he said flatly. “That’s the first in what, five years? Since you joined the team, at least.”
That set me off. “Oh, like you would have noticed? Or cared? You’ve never asked before. You hate that I’m gay and haven’t stopped to listen about any of the guys I’ve been with!”
Silence filled the line, and I felt guilty, despite it being the God’s honest truth. Anger threatened to surface again, so I took a steadying breath.
“Sorry, Des,” I relented, though I honestly didn’t know why. It had become a habit formeto be the one apologizing when my family were the ones constantly stepping over me. I fucking hated it.
I heard Des swallow. “No, I deserved that. I’ve… been an ass, haven’t I? I’m sorry, Rey.”
I dropped the chip and actually glanced at the phone. Did hereallyjust say that? I hadn’t been prepared to talk to my grumpy-ass brother when I called, but I was even more unprepared for this side of him, a side of him I hadn’t seen in years.
“Are you at least being honest with him?” he asked.
“What does that mean?”
“About how you’re off the team? Mom still seems to think you’re going back to Mexico City, and I know you’re not,” he said in a low voice, making me think Ma was near.
“And why do you think that is, Des?” I asked bitterly. “I’ve tried to tell her, but you know how she is! She loves to talk but rarely listens. At least not to me. It’s always about Mia and her music or Paul and his law firm. Or the kids. Or hell, even you and your horrible smoking habit. But me? She hasn’t listened to me in years!” I yelled, pressing a thumb and forefinger to my forehead in an attempt to kill the headache before it started.
I wasn’t at all surprised Desmond knew I was let go from the team. Out of anyone in my family, he’d followed my career the closest. He knew when I was injured, and kept track of not only my stats, but the entire team’s, passing them along to the rest of the family. It was strange how he always knew the details of my career but rarely wanted to talk with me. That was why this entire conversation felt so surreal now. I wasn’t sure how much he wanted to know. And even if he did want the full story, I wasn’t sure I could handle explaining it yet. Especially not in my current state of exhaustion.
Before I could find an excuse to end the call, a loud, ugly squawk filled the line. Des cursed, and a second later the phone clattered to the ground. I heard the sound of wings and small feet puttering, followed by a scuffle and children’s giggles.
“Give me the stick! Give me the stick!” a human-like voice screeched.
Des yelled after it, sounding far away and distant. “Stupid fucking bird! MA! NIC! GET THE CAGE!”
I laughed and hung up, knowing full well once George—my parents’ old, cranky and stubborn-as-fuck cockatiel—went on one of his rampages, it could be a good hour before they got him calmed down and back in the case. It was almost always my trouble-loving nephew who let him out. Unfortunately, once something provoked George, there was little anyone could do to calm him down. We all had to wait until his antics settled down on their own.
Setting the phone on the table, I stared at the empty screen with a heavy heart. As funny as it was to picture my family going frantic over a crazy bird, it also left me feeling even more alone than I had before I called home. It was always the same. My family was too fucking busy for me, too distracted to care what was going on in my life. Either one of my siblings had something going on in their own lives that needed Ma and Pa’s attention, or the kids would stir up trouble and we’d have to end the call early. I couldn’t remember the last time a phone conversation actually ended with a peaceful “Goodbye.”
