"You know everybody else would see us as being fags."
The South of France was everything the boys dreamed it would be. Walter’s Uncle and Walter’s Aunt
hadn’t seen the rest of the family in years, but welcomed Walter and Bear as if they were old friends, and treated them
like adults, not college kids. For two glorious weeks, they sailed the Côte D’Azure, only stopping for supplies
and an occasional night at an expensive restaurant, courtesy Walter’s Uncle. The boys spent their days tossing the football
and diving into the Mediterranean, then repeating as necessary. Some days, they fished with Walter’s Uncle, catching
big scaly sea creatures that Walter’s Aunt turned into dinner. The Yeagers retired early each night, when Walter’s
Uncle said to his wife: “Come on, sweetie, time to go dreamin’.” This afforded the boys their own dreamtime,
alone on the deck. It was during one of those nights that Walter brought up something
he knew had been on both their minds.
“I’m not saying we are, but you know everybody else would see us as being fags,”
said Walter. They were on their backs, hands behind their heads, staring up at the starry sky.
“Do you care what people think?” asked Bear.
Walter knew this was a trick question. He paused for half a lifetime, then let out a guilty
laugh and said, “Yeah, I do. It’s a reality.”
“I know,” said a resigned Bear. “We can’t mess up your career in college
or the pros.”
“We’re gonna have to be careful,” said Walter.
“I won’t let anything happen,” promised Bear.
“I know you won’t,” said Walter, rising up on his elbows and reaching for
Bear’s hand. “Bear, buddy, after college, I want you to come to all my games.”
“In the pros?
For sure,” shrugged Bear.
“Every one,” said Walter, “but only if you want to. We’ll have to
come up with some kind of red-alert security plan.”
“No way! I’m gonna be like: Would somebody please point me in the direction
of my man’s cheering section?” said Bear, all faggy.
“Now, Bear!” said Walter. A hint of wariness flashed in his eyes, then evaporated.
“Oh, fuck, that’s pretty funny!” Just like that, the unspoken fear vanished. Bear had confirmed in a comical way the polar opposite of what was acceptable around football
people. “Seriously, though. I want you there,” added Walter.
“Put
me down for any chance to see my buddy go play some football!” said Bear.
“I want you there all the time, Bear,” insisted Walter, as if Bear wasn’t
getting it. “I want us to be there, wherever I am ... together. Every step.”
“Every pass?”
asked Bear, face coming closer to his buddy’s.
“Every snap,” said Walter, face coming closer to his buddy’s.
“Every touchdown?” asked Bear.
“Every Bear Coleman movie premiere,” said Walter.
“Every game-winning, fourth-quarter drive?” said Bear.
“Every night going to sleep with you,” said Walter, looking into Bear’s
eyes. “Sometimes I dream of being the one to change sports, with you, so
we could be open, so I could just be myself and play and hang with you, and it’s no big deal.”
“Dream
of it,” said Bear. “Walter Yeager can do anything he sets his brilliant mind to.”
“Rightbackatcha,” said
Walter.
They melted into the moonlight and one another. For a moment, they laughed their way through the nervousness, then Walter regulated their heartbeats by
kissing the back of Bear’s hand, then kissing his forehead. That night, they finally got all Le Sucre they desired,
and it was everything they dreamed it would be. The Mediterranean provided their rhythm; the
nature of boys did the rest. When the sun rose on the sea the next morning, they were asleep naked on the deck, coiled around
one another like pieces of the same rope.
Bear found himself dreaming of a pair of hairy and weathered blond legs that
certainly didn’t belong to Walter, who was drooling on Bear’s chest. To escape the dream, he opened his eyes,
only to find a pair of legs standing over him—hairy and weathered blond legs that didn’t belong to Walter, who
was drooling on Bear’s chest. In a panic, Bear grabbed his buddy’s blond locks and pulled backwards, giving the
quarterback a clear view of his uncle’s face.
“Waking up on the deck like this, guys?” said Walter’s
Uncle, thoroughly disgusted. “Are you nuts? Wrong word choice.”
