Carter’s brows cave in on each other as he looks past me and toward downtown.
“What’s wrong?” I ask my usually cheerful friend.
“I may have met someone.”
I lean forward on my desk and spin the stress ball. “Woman? Man? Black? White? Older? Younger?”
Carter has long since been open about his sexual preference, but he’s never committed to any one of the people he’s slept with. Plus, there's not a lot of Black and openly bisexual or gay men working in our field.
“Man. And he’s White. But he’s also an athlete who’s still in the closet.”
My eyebrows fly to my hairline in shock. “How did you two meet?”
“We actually live on the same floor of our apartment complex. I have never talked to him, but I saw him on a dating app. I swiped right, and we’ve been talking for the last month.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “That’s huge. And convenient.”
“Yeah. But I don’t know if I can date someone who’s not comfortable coming out. It’s the twenty-first century,” he says exasperated.
On a drunken night in college, Carter told me how he was forced to come out to his parents. It was wholly uncomfortable for them, but they eventually came around to the idea that their son likes men and women.
“Yeah. But how many male athletes are out of the closet?”
“I know,” he whines.
“Have you two…you know…?”
“Are you asking if we’ve had sex? What is this, ladies who brunch?” he jokes and I can’t help but laugh along with him. “No, we haven’t. But we have had some very heavy makeout and groping sessions, so I do know he’s packing.”
I shake my head at his description.
“This is just something I need to work out on my own.” He stands up and heads for the door, but turns around at the last second. “Oh, and call your mother.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I tell him and turn my focus onto my computer screen. My schedule is clear for the rest of the workday. Just some administrative tasks that I can handle while on the phone. Taking a cleansing breath, I pull up my mom’s contact information and press her name.
“Well, I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” she says in lieu of a greeting.
I wince and move over to look out of the window. “No. I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.”
“Too busy to take a phone call?”
Yes. “I’m not too busy now.”
She snorts, unladylike, on the other end. “Nice. I was just calling to see if you were coming to Sunday dinner.”
“When have I ever missed one?” I ask and hear my mom harrumph on the other end.
It’s true that I’ve always been at Sunday dinners, but ask if I’ve been mentally present, now that’s a whole other story.Lately, my mind has been focused on Angie. On what she’s doing when we’re not together. Sure, we text throughout the day, but we’re both busy. My only saving grace is our Saturday golf date.
“Fair point,” I hear some yelling in the background and my mom groans. “These boys will send me to an early retirement home.”
“I’ll make sure it’s a nice one,” I tease with a smile.
“Why didn’t I have a daughter?” she sighs into the phone. “Anyways, I’ll see you on Sunday. Bye, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I slide my phone into my pocket and fixate on the world outside. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I wasn’t so determined to pursue video game development. In college, I had the means to pursue a professional career in golf. Agents approached me with deals about how they can “take my career to the next level”. But the thought of being away from my family terrified me. I was already away from them for college and the thought of it being on a more permanent basis freaked me out. My family may drive me insane some days, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
