Divisions (Dev and Lee) (33 page)

“No,” I cough as my father’s ears go back. “Just me. This is my father.”

“Oh! Pleased to meet you, sir.” Strike grins and shakes my father’s paw as well, and it’s one of the first times I can remember seeing my father genuinely not sure how to react.

“It’s a pleasure,” he settles on. “I thought you guys should have won that championship.”

“So did I,” Strike says.

“You did your part. But—”

I cut in before my father can ask why Strike called out his defense in the media. “How do you feel about the playoffs here?”

“Well, we’re in, and that’s half the battle. Port City, once we lost that second game to Peco, it was all over. But it’s going to be us and the Pilots, the Rocs and the Sabretooths, the Boxers and the Frats. Sabres and Rocs are good, but I’d be most worried about the Boxers. Boliat’s been there before, they’re good every year, and they’ve got the same core. Sabres, too. Tough team, and feels like they’re coming together. But so are we.” He grins. “If they get me the ball, I’ll take it to the house. That’s all I can do. These guys all work on the other side of the ball and I’ll tell you, I haven’t worked with a better defensive unit ever.”

People say that all the time, and I’m sure Strike is good at faking sincerity, but it sounds pretty real. Angela, coming back from the kitchen in the middle of the speech, smiles. Gerrard swivels one large tan ear in our direction, and Fisher and Gena both look over at the same time. That one comment, I think, generated more goodwill for him than a bag full of iPhones.

“We’re certainly glad to have you here,” Angela says, and I think it’s clear she means the team rather than the house.

Strike lifts a red paw and pumps a fist. “Let’s win a championship here.”

If he was hoping for a big locker-room cheer, he’s disappointed. Gerrard smiles, Fisher ignores him, and I’m not sure anyone else in the room heard him. “Oh, well,” he says, lowering his arm and fixing his eyes on me. “You’re helping too.”

I grin. “Has Dev talked about me?”

“Well, no. But you know, a steady relationship of any sort really helps with a player’s stability. I mean…” He jerks his head very slightly toward Gerrard and Fisher. “Look at the guys with stable families. Those are the ones we look up to. If Dev had to go around hiding, having sex in back alleys and cheap hotels, well, it’d be a big distraction and he might still be a backup.”

“So I help mostly by relieving him of the stress of finding somewhere to get laid.”

My father’s eyes widen and his whiskers twitch, I think more at my tone than at what I’m saying. But Strike is so earnest, it’s clear he’s immune to sarcasm. It’s pretty amazing. “Oh, I’m sure you’re good at it, too. And I mean, the emotional support, obviously. But the male animal is primarily motivated by finding sex. When that drive is satisfied, then he can put energy toward other things.”

“I imagine you keep your girlfriend busy,” I say, trying not to be too snide about it.

“Don’t have one.” He puffs out his chest.

“Oh?” I can’t resist, even though my father tries to stop me. “Boyfriend?”

“Jesus, no!” Strike frowns, then forces himself to smile. “I’m not wired that way. There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just not for me. For people that are, totally. No, uh…” Now Gerrard’s ear is swiveled toward Strike again, and he and Fisher have stopped talking. Dev, thankfully, is still engaged with Pace and Vonni, Pike and Kodi.

“It’s okay,” I say, because sarcasm becomes boring and self-indulgent when you’re the only one who realizes you’re doing it. I switch to broad hinting. “I’m used to it. Not everyone wants to think about it, or call attention to it, you know?”

“I’m really not like that,” he says. “Don’t think that. No, I practice tantric meditation, which relieves me of the need for sex. At least, during the season, I do. Girls are too much of a distraction. And boys, I guess, for Dev.”

“Actually,” I say, and then stop myself because my father reaches over and grips my wrist. “Actually, I’m glad to help however I can.”

He peers across the room, then back at me. “Was it the right size?”

“Um.” My mind races through possibilities. “Your present?”

“Yeah.” His brow creases. “They didn’t have a tiger one, so I just got the biggest.”

I have to try hard not to laugh. “I’m sure it’ll be—it’ll be fine. Thanks. Um. Father, you want to get some cookies?”

“Very much,” he says, and we go over to the table together.

“The male animal,” I say in a low fox-whisper, “is primarily motivated by finding cookies.”

Father laughs softly and shakes his head. “He’s very sure of purpose.”

“No, I’m worried about you now, you know.” We’ve reached the table, and I take one of the sugar cookies.

“Because I’ll have to spend all my energy finding sex?”

“Uh, yeah. That was a lot funnier and less weird in my head.”

Father tilts his head and grins at me. “You don’t want to talk about sex with me? After all those years of insisting I acknowledge what you like to do in bed?”

Sadly, Fisher and Gena and their cubs are all the way across the room, no convenient excuse for me to get out of this conversation. “That’s different.”

“Not so different.” He takes a cookie as well. “If I start dating—”

“You’re already thinking about dating?”

“Thinking about it. I didn’t say I’m ready yet. But if I do, you’ll eventually meet the person I’m dating. Which implies at least knowing a little of what I do in bed, right?”

“I already know—you know what, I don’t care.” I stuff the cookie into my mouth, barely tasting it. “It’s Christmas, for crying out loud.”

“Uh-huh.” He bites off a piece of cookie. “So if I introduce you to my girlfriend the hyena…?”

“Jesus Fox, Father.” I snap my head around, but nobody seems to have heard me swear on Christmas. “I’ll be happy for you, okay? I can’t promise to call her ‘Mother,’ but maybe, you know, ‘Step-parent.’ That all right?”

“Wait, you think I’d marry a hyena?”

I look at his eyes, which have a little sparkle, and I shake my head. “Now you’re just messing with me. Of course you’d marry a hyena if you fell in love with one. You’ve got your cub already.”

“Kind of liberating,” he says.

Fisher comes over to the table. Hearing the last comment, he says, “I guess we’re not talking about that Christmas present.”

I choke back a laugh, because he sounds pretty deadly serious. “Uh, no. Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

Fisher’s deep voice makes my tail twitch, and not in the good way that Dev’s does. “It was just goddamn inappropriate. If people want to do that, fine, but don’t parade it out in public, and anyway, Dev never talks about that kind of stuff. Ever. Unless he started doing it in the last month or so.”

“Nope.” Dev joins us. Now we’re surrounding the table, keeping everyone else from the eggnog and cookies. “I don’t even know what store he could’ve gone to.”

“I can find out.”

“Yes,” Dev says, staring at me, “I have the Internet too.”

“I mean now.” I take my new phone from my pocket. “I can just go look up the answers to things.”

“Then see if there’s an answer on there about how to deal with a talented, cocky kid,” Fisher grumbles. But he’s already opened his iPhone and is holding it in one paw.

“There isn’t,” Father says. “Believe me, I looked for years.”

“Har har.” I put the phone away.

Fisher’s still staring at him. “You need to get this hooked up somehow, right?”

“Yeah, you can do it from your old phone,” I tell him. “But I’m sure your cubs can figure it out.”

That gets a smile out of him, finally. “Fucking technology,” he says amiably. “Let me go ask Brad. But I’m still pissed for you.” He points at Dev and then folds his arms.

“I can’t remember when I’ve spent the holiday season with quite so many tigers,” Father says.

“You get used to it.” I smile and nudge my tiger, flicking my ears back to make sure there isn’t anyone else close by. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Dev stares down at the cookies. “Just caught me off guard.”

“It’s one of those assumptions about gay people that just sucks. I think he means well, he just doesn’t know all that much about us.”

“So he should just not—just not do anything. Or ask. Fucking ask.”

He says that last thing a bit too loud, and Daria’s little “oh” is audible over where we are. “Hey, Dev,” Vonni says. “Clean it up or Angela’ll make you wash your mouth out with soap.”

“People aren’t comfortable asking a lot of the time,” I say.

“Not everyone is your father,” Father says.

I ignore that for now. “Sometimes you have to just tell him, look, there’s nothing weird about my relationship. I’m with someone I love and what we do in our home isn’t anyone’s business.”

“Just like anyone else,” Fisher growls.

“Well, if you expand the definition of ‘someone you love’ to include tantric meditation,” I say.

Dev looks startled, then angry. “What? No, don’t bother. I don’t want to have to explain my life to people. I just want to play football.”

“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to.”

“Is that so?” His eyes gleam at me.

I stand my ground, aware of Fisher and my father, but not caring. “Yeah. To prevent shit like this.”

Gena comes up behind Fisher. “Okay,” she says. “I’m not a prude, but—”

“Our boys have heard worse,” Fisher says.

“Jaren and Mike—”

“Are upstairs. Don’t make this a big deal. For Christ’s sake, there’s worse being said on the TV right now.” He gestures to the basketball game.

She pauses and then holds up her paws. “Fine. I’ll just have Angela announce when her boys come down and then we can all start saying ‘stuff’ and ‘freaking’ again, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

We’re quiet until she goes back to talk to Angela. On the TV, the announcers yell about a dunk. Dev ducks his head. “All I want to do is play football,” he says again.

“Yeah, well. That’s what I want you to do too,” I say. “And Fisher, and Gerrard, and everyone. But like it or not, you came out. You made your life public. And you have responsibilities now.”

“What responsibilities? Nobody here is making funny faces at you, or holding their nose, or picking up things with napkins after you touched them.”

“That was in a movie,” I remind him. “I don’t know anyone that’s actually happened to.”

“The point is, everyone here is okay with it. Can’t we all just be okay and leave it alone? Why do people have to talk about it all the goddamn time?”

“Because you want to be able to bring me places?” I meet his eyes.

He looks away. “You don’t come to the locker room during games.”

“People like Vince King—”

“Oh, shit.” He looks disgusted, and walks away from the table without letting me finish.

Fisher looks bewildered. “Who’s Vince King?” he says into the silence.

I chew my lip, watching Dev’s tail lash as he stops near Gerrard. “Someone I guess I’ve been talking about too much lately.”

I excuse myself and leave my father and Fisher, so I can go stand moodily against the wall. I curl my tail around my leg and stare down at my half-empty cup until Father comes to stand near me.

“King was that bear who died, right?” I nod. “The one Eileen’s group had something to do with.”

They caused it. I can’t bring myself to say the words, mostly because it’s still Christmas, it’s still cheery here around me. So I just nod again.

“And you’re doing what you can to help kids, right?”

Am I? Most of what I’m trying to do consists of getting Dev to help. What can I do? I’m just a famous guy’s boyfriend. “Sort of.”

“Is that more important to you than the job in Yerba?”

The eggnog swirls back and forth in my cup. If it’s important to me, why am I not able to make the sacrifice? If it’s really that important, shouldn’t I be able to call up Yerba and say, “No thanks, I’m going to work for gay rights”? Dev would support me, and I could go work with Brian…with Brian, who wants to be close to me again. Who wants me to push Dev to do the things I’m not willing to push him to do. Who is still waiting for an answer about Potomac, which I’ve managed not to think about because I know what it will be.

“It’s complicated,” I say. “I just think I can do what I want and also make room for the things that are important to me.”

“That’s the dream, right?” Father’s tail swishes slowly back and forth. “But sometimes you have to make compromises.”

“I thought my compromise was living apart from my boyfriend.” I sigh. “I thought we had it kind of figured out. He’s out, I’m out, people seem okay with it. The hiding part is over. Isn’t it supposed to get easier?”

“I don’t know.” Father looks down at his cup. “I know we didn’t make it easier on you. We didn’t throw you out, or…or, you know, threaten your boyfriend…”

The thought of Father threatening Dev gives me an involuntary laugh. “No, you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t exactly encourage you, fully embrace you.”

“Mother was the one—”

“Wiley, listen. You can’t blame her for everything. She and I had our disagreements, and ultimately I guess we weren’t meant to end our lives together. But I took a long time to accept you, too. I’m sorry for that.”

“Thanks.” I know I didn’t make things easier on them, but right now I’m just wondering if I’m always going to exist in this kind of pre-dawn state, with the prospect of sunlight just around the corner, just out of reach. There will be bright days, like today, but I’m still left with two paths to choose from, neither one completely fulfilling. I can live off Dev’s income and do nothing but charity work like a football wife, have no responsibility for myself and no control over my life and nothing to do with football except when I’m his plus-one at parties, or I can take a job somewhere else in the country that is about football and is what I really want to do, and give up the activism, give up the feeling that I’m making a difference in anything except banners hanging in a stadium.

And Mother is one of the pressures on me, one of the people pushing me toward activism. She would be horrified to know that she and Brian were doing anything in concert. In fact, she would probably be horrified to be in the same room as Brian.