Strangelove // Depeche Mode

The texts started coming over the weekend. I deleted them before I could be tempted to read them. I had already gotten rid of her contact, but I knew it was her. I'll never forget that number. The one I saw pop up on my phone last year. When Jeff texted it to me one afternoon, after I finally confronted Courtney for the way she talked about Amber. After I finally pulled my head out of my ass and treated her with respect.

Looks like my head found its way back in there. I'm ghosting the one girl I really love. On the surface that makes me a prick. But deep down I know it's for her own good.

She must be on a mission because after six weeks of no contact, now she chooses to blow up my phone. After I send three calls directly to voicemail, I take drastic measures and block her. It is physically painful to do. Every single part of me revolts at the action but I follow through anyway.

And then my mom gets in the mix.

"Have you talked to Hannah recently?" She knows we broke up, but I haven't given her any details.

"No." I shouldn't have come to the kitchen to grab food before practice. Avoiding my mom while living at home is not easy to do. She's always here.

"She sounds upset lately. I think she wants to talk to you."

I shouldn't ask this, but I do. "You talk to her?"

"Well, yes. She calls every few days to see how Mark is doing. Sometimes she talks to him. She's a sweet girl."

I didn't know my mom had been talking with her. That does shit to my head. And my heart. Stuff I can't deal with right now.

"Yeah, fine. I've got to go."

"Have a good practice. The roast will be in the oven when you get home. And maybe you should give her a call. Let her say whatever it is she needs to say. Sometimes a woman needs to get things off her chest in order to move on."

Mom's words bring that shitty feeling right back. I don't want her to move on. I can't think about it. Even though that's what she should do, what she needs to do. I don't want to know about it when it happens.

***

Football sucks. I'm now off the bench and on the practice team only. We still have to suit up and attend all of the games but no play time. Life just keeps getting better and better.

Another practice over, we trudge into the locker room to wash up before the team meeting. One more requirement for everyone even though nothing applies to the practice team. We are still expected to sit through the meeting and review tape, watching for patterns and holes in our opponents and analyzing our own weaknesses.

I don't say much to anyone anymore. Gio has stopped trying to hook me up. Micah usually has his head in his phone, texting constantly. Jeff gives me hard looks anytime our eyes catch. I avoid him the most. Having a locker right next to him makes that hard as hell, but I get in and out quickly in order to steer clear.

One by one my teammates file into the media room. I sit in the back corner. No one cares too much about the guys on the practice team. I don't feel like fist bumping anyone or getting the pity eyes that still seem to float my way. Coach arrives and wastes no time rolling tape. He makes a point to highlight all of the fuck ups. Mostly Jeff's. What the hell is between those two?

"Missed sign, right here. The play was to run the ball on the right, outside of the mash up. Benson had the hand off timed right. The D line did their job, running it exactly the way Northwest is known to do. Jones, perfect execution on Drew's signature maneuver. But Miller wasn't in position." Coach looks directly at Jeff. I watch my buddy for a reaction but there isn't one. Jeff doesn't argue with authority, but he will stand his ground. I watched the same play coach was talking about. Jeff did what he needed to do. Coach is twisting it all up, blowing it out of proportion. But I have no idea why.

"I'll be pulling you from the game this week, Miller. Sanchez, you're on the roster."

Jeff is silent, still as a statue. No expression on his face. He's accepted his fate better than I would if I were in his place. If it were any other year, under any other circumstances in my life, I would have defended him. I'm not afraid to challenge authority if needed. I would have spoken up about how Coach is targeting Jeff, because there's no other way to put it. Jeff has a huge target on his back and Coach gets a bullseye every time.

But it's not another time of life. Its now, when I'm barely hanging on. I'm too consumed with my own mess to worry about Jeff's. Besides, he's told me point blank to leave it alone. To stay out of the situation. At least I'm respecting his wishes.

Even though he could more than likely use someone to back him up whether he wants it or not.

The meeting drones on about the push to dominate Northwest, one of our biggest rivals. I used to thrive on the energy of the team, the desire to win, the need to control the scoreboard. But now I feel like I'm walking in a fog. A nightmare. Nothing holds the same draw for me, not anymore. I'm just existing. Breathing in and out, sleep walking through my day, my life...and for what? There's nothing to look forward to now. I'll ruin it all eventually so why bother getting attached? Why bother trying to find any kind of happiness. I look around and notice guys are filing out of the media room. Coach must have dismissed everyone. I wait until the room clears before I stand up to leave.

"McKinley, a word." The coach of the practice team is standing up front looking at me.

"Sure, Coach." I take the few steps from the back of the room to the front. "What's up?"

"Just checking in with you. How are you doing?"

Shit. "Fine." I meet his gaze even though I would rather stare at the floor. That's too much of a tell so I resist the temptation.

"Classes going all right?"

"Yeah. Just fine." How much longer...

"How's your family."

I don't want to do this. "Doing well."

Coach crosses his arms and nods. "We're here for you, Matt. Anything you need, let us know. It's a rough road to take but you'll get through this."

I nod, not wanting to say any more than I've said. What is there to say, anyway? My life is fucked? I'm ruining everything? I hate where this had taken me? I'm pissed off...all the damn time? No. I can't say any of that, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Get going. I'll see you next practice."

The weight of his questions never leaves me as I walk away. It's always with me. The anger. It's why I've pushed everyone as far away as possible. I'm tainted.

I'm grabbing my backpack from my locker after the meeting when the door is slammed shut.

"Time's up." Jeff is standing inches from me, eyes blazing and hand holding my locker door shut.

"Nope. Time to leave. Out of my way." I can't have another conversation about how I'm doing. Or how I'm fucking it all up.

"You have to talk to her." He doesn't need to specify. I know he's referring to his cousin, who's name I'm keeping out of mind.

"Not a good idea." I step away from him, considering leaving without my stuff but my keys are in there along with my phone so I wouldn't get far.

"Doesn't matter. She's got stuff to say."

"Nothing I need to hear."

I don't see his fist coming before it's in my face. My eye to be specific. My head jerks back from the blow and the pain radiates through my skull. Instinctively I raise a fist to punch him back but he's already on me, tackling me to the ground.

"What the fuck?" I grunt because he's practically knocked the wind out of me. Half of me listens for footsteps and cat calls from the rest of the team before I remember that they've all left. Jeff waited until we were alone. I push him and try to get up from the floor.

"You don't get to ghost her. Not after everything. Fuck you!" He shoves me back down, hovering over me. I get his anger, I really do. But I can't do this with him.

"None of your business." I slide backwards. I need more space between us so I can get the hell out of here.

"You knocked her up, asshole. Dig yourself out of this pity pit and do the right thing."

I stop my attempts to leave and look up at Jeff. His eyes are still on fire, completely pissed off at me. He wants my neck and with what he just told me, I'm about to hand it over.

"What?" I can't make sense of what he's said. "She's what?"

"Pregnant. With your kid. She's been trying all week to talk to you. Told me not to say anything. She's all alone, you fucker. She's doing this all alone. I thought you were a better man than this. I believed in you, man. I trusted you with her!"

He's losing his shit.

I push myself up from the floor. I don't know what to say. But I can't keep thoughts of Hannah out of my head now. I grab my hair with both hands and pace. What is this? What do I do? How can I be a father when my own father was so shitty? I can't do that to my kid. The only thing I swore I would never do. I'm not right, not yet. I'm fucked up.

I bend over at the waist and can't hold back anymore. I start crying, wailing. Like a piece of shit.

"I'm a ticking bomb, man." I cry harder. "I can't do to Hannah what my dad did to my mom. I can't watch the light in her eyes fade with bitterness. With resentment. With loneliness. I can't do it. And to a kid? To my fucking kid? I can't hurt my kid the way my-" Fuck.

I'm down on my knees. I've never been so scared in my life. Scared for that baby. The innocence I'm going to ruin. I'm so fucked up. My heart is already breaking for this little life that I'm going to destroy.

I feel arms wrap around me. Its comfort I don't deserve.

"Then do something about it. You've got a girl that loves you, who's stood by you and literally made you a better man. Don't you know how fucking lucky you are? You have a perfect life at your fingertips. And you threw it all away out of fear. Some of us aren't that lucky. Some of us have no control over who we lose, but you do, you stupid prick. You don't have to lose Hannah. You don't have to lose your kid. Do something. Be drastic. Be the Matt I know you are and not this fucking guy who won't try to live a better life than the one he was handed. That's not you. This is not you."

He's right. This isn't me. I don't know who 'me' is anymore, though.

"God, help me." I curl into a ball on the floor of the locker room. Jeff still has his arms around me while I break down. I hurt so damn bad. I hurt her. I'm still hurting her. I can't do this anymore.

"You've got to talk to someone. A professional. It's okay to get help when you're struggling."

I nod. Again, he's right. I'm so messed up there's no way I can handle this on my own. My mom is too. I can't talk to Hannah, not yet. Not until I know I won't do something to make things worse. Jeff is the only one at this point.

"You're right."

"I'm what? Shit, I think that's the first time you've ever admitted that. Mark the calendar." Jeff tries to lighten the dark mood.

It doesn't work because I do need to mark the calendar. This is the day my life became more about my family than about me. Hannah and my child have to come first. It's something I don't think my dad ever did. He was a selfish bastard. His actions proved that. I won't be him. I've got to fight against those tendencies because it's not about me anymore.

It's about them. I can't let them down. The two people who have my entire heart. The two people who deserve better than what I got.

"Yeah, man. Mark the calendar. Let's change my life."

Ahem... there is so much to comment on with this one. Let me say this, my original plot unfolded in a much different way in terms of how Matt responds to the news. But he put up a protest, argued with me for weeks, and made writing nearly impossible until I saw things his way. Once again, he was right. What do you think?

Also, I recently realized that I've overused the name Jeff for side characters, as I also have a Jeff in Inevitable. It never occurred to me while writing either Jeff because they are so different from each other and I created them years apart. Oh well...

I think Strangelove fits with Matt's messed up concept of who he is and what he's capable of.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]