For The Fans

FuckBoiFarmer: Are you into agriculture? Cuz you sure know how to raise a cock.

By my nineteenth birthday, we’ve played three more games, and won them all. We’re starting off the season with a bang, and as a team, we’re pumped.

Game two was an away, in Pittsburgh. We beat the Panthers, thirty-eight to thirty-one… Sort of close. But game two, which we played the day before my birthday, was a blowout on our turf. We destroyed Syracuse, forty-four to three. It was the perfect birthday gift, and you bet your ass I celebrated hard that night.

But there are two reasons why the Syracuse win wasn’t the best night of my life. The first is because I had to watch Avi doing the shuffle the whole time dressed as our stupid eagle mascot. I mean, I’m really not trying to be a team downer, but it would be nice if I didn’t know my obnoxious stepbrother was the one inside that eagle suit, watching me and grinning the whole time. It was in the back of my head throughout the entire game, and I think it might have something to do with the fury I managed to channel into more passing yards than any quarterback has ever thrown only three games into the season.

Thankfully, Avi wasn’t at the game in Pittsburgh. I’m not sure if traveling to away games isn’t part of the mascot’s responsibilities or if he just decided not to go, but either way, it was a nice break from having to watch him dance like an idiot. But sure enough, at our next home game, there was Baldwin. Annoying me with his presence, which is pretty much his greatest talent.

The second reason the Syracuse win could’ve been better is because my father wasn’t there. In fact, my father hasn’t been to any of my games yet, and it’s starting to fuck with my head a little. I didn’t expect him to travel to Pittsburgh. but for the home games… What’s his excuse? Football is the only thing he truly supports me in, yet he’s been noticeably absent.

Part of me wants to call him and find out what the deal is… But the other part, the part that’s infinitely stubborn, refuses to give him the satisfaction. If he’s stopped caring about me in the one teeny tiny sliver he still had, then so be it.

He can fuck right off.

Unfortunately, though, that attitude is only skin-deep. On the inside, I’m obsessing about it, to an almost neurotic degree. Inside, I’m a child again, desperately trying not to disappoint him, while simultaneously doing just that, with things that are completely out of my control.

It feels like an itch I just can’t reach. Which is why when Hannah called me on my birthday and invited me to come home for dinner this weekend, I ignored all my urges to tell her and my dad to go to Hell, and agreed. If for no other reason than to confront my father and find out what possible excuse he could have for missing my games without so much as a phone call or a text.

I’m nervous while I sit, bouncing my knee in the backseat of my Uber as it drives me to Somerville for what I’m sure will be yet another one of our forced family dinners I’ve been purposely trying to avoid for the last few years. It’s why over summer break, I spent as much time out with friends as possible. Anything to keep me away from home; from my dad acting like I’m more of an unsatisfactory business investment than a son, from Hannah being the object of his only affections, and from Avi, whose blasé attitude and constant smiling just reminds me of what I could be like if I wasn’t so fucked up.

But now, rather than running away, I’m going back. Dealing with all of this family bullshit, in an effort to figure out what’s happening.

The Uber comes to a stop in front of my house, right behind what looks to be another Uber. I step out of mine at the same time that Avi is stepping out of his, and we both roll our eyes at one another.

“See, now… if you weren’t such a prick, we could’ve split one,” he mutters while we walk up to the front door.

“No thanks.” I grab the doorknob before he can get to it, pushing my way inside the house in front of him.

He mumbles, “Fucker,” under his breath, but I’m not paying attention. I’m too busy looking around the house with startled wide eyes, wondering why everything is different.

Most of the furniture is either gone, or has been replaced with smaller, cheaper-looking stuff. The art is all missing from the walls… It looks like when we first moved in. And I smell food, but I don’t hear Theresa’s familiar humming coming from the kitchen.

It’s just a dimly lit, barren wasteland of what our home used to be.

“Dad?” I shout, at the same time that Avi yells, “Mom?!”

Hannah peeks around the corner from the kitchen and shows us a tired smile. “Hi, boys!”

She wipes her hands on a dish towel, sauntering over. And as soon as she’s close, I can see some dark circles under her eyes. She looks exhausted and sort of frazzled.

“Baby boy,” she croons while hugging Avi. Then she turns and hugs me. “Happy late birthday, Ky. I’m sorry we couldn’t come to see you on your actual birthday. There was a lot… going on.”

“Like what?” I ask nervously as she pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear and avoiding eye contact.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Avi asks. “Why is it empty in here?”

“Yea, and where’s my dad? His car’s not in the driveway…”

“Your father is here,” she says, as if trying to placate me, but it just brings up a bunch more questions. “He’s in his office. We have some things to talk about with you boys, but we’ll do it over dinner.”

She turns and darts back to the kitchen. “I’m just finishing up!” she calls as she rushes to the stove. “Relax for a bit. It’ll be ready soon.”

Avi and I share a look of concern before he follows after her. And I tilt my face all around the drab walls.

What the hell is going on…?

I wander through the den, to my father’s office. The door is closed, and when I gently press my ear up to it, I can hear him speaking. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but he’s clearly talking to someone on the phone. And it doesn’t sound like a pleasant conversation. My dad’s stern rumble seems sort of frantic. And then he starts shouting.

Pulling my face away fast, I stare at the door separating us, my stomach all bunched up in knots.

“Dad?” I call through the door, knocking softly. “Is everything okay?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he clears his throat and answers, “Fine… I’ll be out in a minute!”

My nerves are bounding around inside me like bouncy balls. The impending dread reminds me of when I was twelve years old… When my parents would have hushed arguments about me behind closed doors.

Combing my fingers through my hair, I release a breath in an attempt to calm myself down. I lean up against the wall and close my eyes.

It’s not my fault.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I open the camera just to stare at myself.

It’s fine… It’s all fine. You’re here.

This is you.

I guess I spaced out, because a throat clearing startles me. I flinch so hard, I nearly drop my phone, chin springing up to find Avi at the entrance of the room, gawking at me.

His brows push together. “When you’re done sexting with bimbos, dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not—” I grumble, but he’s already out of the room and walking away.

Sighing, I stuff my phone away and follow him, heading for the dining room where Hannah is bringing dishes of food to the table.

“Where’s Theresa?” I ask, accusatory distress in my tone.

“She took the week off…” Hannah won’t look at me, busying herself with setting up dinner.

Something strange is happening here, and I really hate it. If I knew this was what they had in store for my birthday dinner, I would have gladly stayed at school.

I take a seat at the table, and Avi sits down across from me. I think he might be watching me, but when I peek up, he seems much more concerned with his mother’s restless movements. She gets everything set up on the table, then stands still for a moment, her face slowly slanting in the direction of my father’s office.

She stalks away. And a moment later, I hear her knocking on his door, calling for him to come join us. I’m getting the impression he doesn’t want to…

Something is not right at all, and what’s worse, for the first time since I met him, Avi has lost that cocky, couldn’t give a fuck less attitude he always brings with him. In fact, he seems just as uneasy as the rest of us… It’s like when you go through turbulence on a plane. If the flight attendants look nervous, then you really have something to worry about.

After a few minutes, Hannah finally returns to the room with my father meandering quietly behind her. I’m watching him like a hawk, and it’s not making me feel any better about this situation. Because he looks like shit.

He too has circles under his eyes, stubble overgrown, his typically pressed white dress shirt unbuttoned and rumpled.

The two of them take their seats, and while Hannah shows me and Avi a hesitant smile, my father won’t even look at us.

“Dad…?” I murmur, and his jaw sets.

I witness his Adam’s apple bob in his throat before he finally peeks up at me for a split second. His eyes are bloodshot… I think maybe he’s been drinking more than usual.

“Happy birthday, son,” he grouses. “I heard about your game this week… Congratulations.”

My lips part, but I have no words. I thought seeing him would spurn on the rage I’ve been feeling at him not showing up or caring about my games. I even had a little speech prepared, wherein I brag about my passing yards and then tell him to fuck off.

But seeing him this way has turned my mind blank.

“Well, everyone dig in,” Hannah sighs. “I made my special couscous, and—”

“Fuck that,” Avi grunts, and all eyes move to him.

“Aviel,” Hannah huffs. “No cursing at the dinner table. Now, eat something.”

“No fuckin way,” he keeps going. “No one’s eating shit until you tell us what’s going on.”

For once, I agree with him, although I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know it. We both stare at our parents, waiting for them to drop whatever bomb they’re obviously delaying unleashing on us.

Hannah fiddles with her napkin, then peeks at my father. “Tom… we need to tell them.”

“Tell us what??” Avi fumes, gripping the edge of the table in suspense.

My father still refuses to look at us, but I can read his face like a book. Frustration, devastation, lines of anger, resentment, and hostility… It’s all so familiar to me, I feel like I might pass out.

Finally, he pulls in a long breath, then lets out slowly before muttering, “The business went under.”

The silence in the room seems to echo his words, like they’re pinging off the empty walls.

Okay… that’s definitely not what I expected.

Swallowing a lump of confusion in my throat, I ask, “What do you mean it went under? What happened??”

He shoots me a defeated look. “Robert made some bad investments, covered them with our pensions… You don’t need to know the specifics, but essentially, I’m fucked. We all are.”

My mouth is hanging open for so long my tongue starts to feel dry, unblinking eyes causing the same. I can’t even believe what I’m hearing…

My father started his business from the ground up, with a hefty start-up donation from my grandparents, of course. But still, he’s been growing it like another one of his children since before my sister was even born. And it’s always been his least disappointing baby.

Now he’s saying it’s… gone? Just like that??

“I’m so sorry this had to happen on your birthday, Ky…” Hannah says.

I blink in disbelief. “Who fucking cares about my birthday?! So you’re saying we’re… broke?”

“Calm down,” my father growls.

“No, he’s right,” Avi jumps in. “We deserve to know what this means.”

“Well, in case you can’t tell, we’ve been selling things,” Hannah says, clearly trying to remain positive, though I’ve never seen her so stressed. “Some of the home furnishings, both of our cars… I’m going back to full-time at the dealership.”

“This is fucking crazy…” I rake my fingers through my hair.

My thoughts are rushing a mile a minute, all the possibilities of what this could mean jumbling inside my skull until I can barely hold my head up.

“And the house…?” Avi asks, his tone much more anxious than I thought he could sound.

“We’ll be able to keep the house,” my dad answers. “I’m looking for new work. I have some leads, but it will be a big transition…”

“What about school??” I cut him off frantically.

His eyes snap up to mine, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in this room is deafening.

Abruptly, my father stands up, waltzing over to his minibar to pour himself a glass of whiskey. He tosses it back fast, then pours another. Hannah is just watching him with unease all over her face.

His shoulders are visibly hunched as he says, “Unfortunately, we won’t be able to pay for either of your college expenses any longer.”

“Holy fucking shit, this isn’t happening…” I rub my eyes hard with my fingers.

“Your scholarships should have paid for most of the tuition,” Hannah stammers, in an attempt to comfort us.

“But we can’t cover housing,” my father adds in a blank, emotionless tone.

My heart tumbles down into my stomach.

“It’ll be fine,” Hannah goes on. “You can both move back home after this semester if you need to. It’s a short commute. I know plenty of kids who would kill to live this close to school…”

No… No fucking way.

I am absolutely not commuting to BC for two more years. Fuck that.

I’m not moving back in here. I refuse.

“This is so fucked,” Avi scoffs an unamused chuckle, shaking his head.

“So there’s just nothing we can do??” I gasp, jittering in my seat from the weight of the utter sadistic bullshit that is my life.

“You could talk to your advisor… To your coach.” Dad shrugs, drinking with his back to us. “See if you can apply for a housing grant…”

“Yea right.” I rip at my hair some more. “They won’t give me shit. Not when I live so close, and if anything, not until next year.”

“Kyran, living at home for one semester won’t be the end of the world…” Hannah chirps remorsefully.

Um, yes, it will. It will be the end of the world.

BC was supposed to be my escape. Even one semester living here could derail everything.

I have to live in the dorms with my teammates. I love living with Guty, and being able to see my friends whenever I want. If I moved in here, I’d be stuck with my father, a man who barely gives a shit about me, his suffering new wife, and… Avi.

No. No, I don’t want this. This sucks ass.

“Tom, please sit down and eat something,” Hannah hums in a small, pleading voice.

But he simply grunts, “Not hungry.” He pours himself another glass of liquor and stomps away, back to his office.

The door slams, and with that, the conversation is over.

My life, as I know it, is over.

My plans, everything I’ve been trying to do… Everything I’ve been fighting like hell to overcome…

It’s all blown up right in my face.

A memory pops into my mind… Of my father telling me and my sister that he and my mother were getting a divorce. The look he shot right at me, before stalking away into his office and slamming the door…

You can’t escape it.

You never will.

Nothing you do will ever be good enough to fix the damage you caused.

“You know what…” I scoot my chair back and stand up, pushing past the headrush that wobbles me a little. “I’m not hungry either.”

Feet carrying me in the direction of the stairs, I march up them, numb to the world as I go. The lack of control I have in this situation is daunting, building severe pressure inside my skull like a migraine. Slamming my bedroom door, I lean up against it and struggle to breathe.

This can’t be happening… It can’t be.

After everything I did to get myself out… I can’t lose it all just like that.

Pushing myself off the door, I stumble over to my bed and plop down onto it, stuffing my face into the pillow.

Last year was amazing… Freshman year at BC, making new friends, the parties, the football… I was finally away. Free from the nightmares and congested memories. I can’t possibly go back to living here…

He doesn’t fucking want me here.

A few minutes of stewing later, there’s a knock on my door. A small sliver of hope rustles awake inside me… that maybe it’s my father coming to talk to me. To tell me it wasn’t my fault, and that he still loves me, no matter what.

But as I sit up and croak, “Yea?” the door swings open to reveal the last person I want to see right now.

“Hey…” Avi shifts his weight in the doorway. “How are you holding up?”

Shaking my head, I flop back down. “What do you want, Avi?”

When he doesn’t respond, I peer over at the doorway again to find him chewing on his lower lip. “You know, this sucks for me too…”

“Oh, really?” I scoff. “You don’t even like school. Moving back in here wouldn’t matter to you, just like having to transfer somewhere else wouldn’t. You don’t care… about anything.”

“Yes, I fucking do.” He steps into the room. “I’ve made friends at BC too, okay? Just because I’m not a superstar football quarterback, doesn’t mean I have nothing to lose.”

I roll my eyes.

“You’ll always have more opportunities than me, Kyran.” He slumps down onto my bed, and I pull my knees to my chest to get away from him. “You can probably just apply for housing through your fancy football scholarship. But I don’t have that option. I’ll be lucky if my assistance even covers full tuition.”

“Get out of my room, Avi.” Melancholy escapes in my tone, though I really don’t want him hearing it. “There’s nothing worse than having to feel this way in front of you.”

“Why? Because I couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through??” he grumbles in frustration. “God, you’re fucking self-absorbed. This isn’t only happening to you, Kyran. It’s happening to all of us. The first time I’ve ever cared about something… The first time I’ve ever been able to get something that’s more for people like you than people like me…”

Flinging upright, I hurtle a glare at him. “Oh, poor Avi. Middle class is so difficult. You have no idea the kinds of things other people have had to deal with.” His forehead lines and he stares at me while I gulp and backtrack. “You’ll get over this because you can. It’s easier for you…”

“What does that even mean…?” he mumbles.

“Never mind,” I grunt, standing up because I just have to get away from him.

I can’t stand being next to him for one more second, especially with him looking at me the way he is.

Stalking to the doorway, I pause to say, “I guess I’ll see you back at school… for however long we have left.”

And with those despondent words, I head downstairs and leave, ordering an Uber back to campus. The entire twenty-minute drive, my mind is racing through the torment that drives my determination.

In my hands are the lines of roads between captivity and escape.

I have to figure this out. I can’t be crushed down again…

Not this time.