Out for the Holidays and Out for Gold (Out in College 8.5)

He was right. I owed him a lot. But he was also wrong. Very wrong.

The problem was, I couldn’t take my frustration and anger out on a water polo ball at will. I had to keep my motions and emotions locked and controlled or my shoulder would give out, and I’d lose my spot on the team. But I was a professional.

One of the benefits of playing for so long was that I’d become a master at my sport. I didn’t waste energy swimming after out-of-range balls, and I didn’t take stupid shots. And the more I used my left arm, the more fluid and dangerous my game became. I might sit more than I wanted to in Tokyo, but I was confident I’d get there. I just had to keep working hard and working smart.

The emotional shit was the real issue.

Sure, I was good at controlling my angst in the pool, but I wasn’t a fucking robot. It had to come out somewhere.

Poor Derek.

I was moodier and more distracted than normal at home. I zoned out during conversations, fell asleep during movies, and lost track of time on the regular. Derek was a patient man. He knew what I was up against in the pool, and he knew that any discussion with my dad aggravated the hell out of me, but he had his limits.

Bonne Terre was doing really well. Between managing new hires and kicking off a social media blitz with a trip to Japan on the calendar, he worked long hours and was under a bit of pressure. I assured him that I was more than happy to help out. Even with extended practices, I was home earlier and had more time on my hands.

But I still fucked up.

He let a few things slide. Not picking up the dry cleaning before his parents’ anniversary party was one thing. Showing up late to the event and forgetting to bring the gift after being reminded a few times was quite another. He put up a good show in front of the country club set, but the second we got home, I figured he’d let me have it.

Of course, Derek surprised me. He shrugged his suit coat off, draped it on the sofa, and turned to me with his hands on his hips. He looked like a Nordic warrior, fierce and proud. He emanated confidence with a strong no-bullshit vibe. I opened my mouth to apologize, but thought better of it when he shook his head.

“Let’s change our clothes and ride our bikes to the beach.”

I furrowed my brow. “Now? It’s almost midnight.”

“So? We need to talk. Let’s go to our spot.” He kissed my cheek and gave me a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on.”

The early July air was balmy with just a hint of chill. We changed into sweats and rode two blocks to the deserted beach. We spread a blanket and sat facing the ocean with our bare feet in the cool sand. Stars glittered above us and a crescent moon did its best to cast some light, but the darkness was kind of therapeutic. And there was something poetic about the roar of the Pacific and the silent beach. I could almost imagine Mother Nature had been waiting for us.

“This is nice. We haven’t done this in a while,” I commented, crossing my arm over his as I leaned back to watch the waves breaking in the distance.

“We’ve been busy.”

“It’ll get better, Der.”

“I know…”

“But?” I prodded when he didn’t continue.

“You need to talk to your dad, Gabe.”

“I talk to him all the fucking time lately.”

“You let him talk at you. You need to tell him how you feel.”

I groaned. “That’s the last thing I need.”

“It’s exactly what you need. You’ve given him rent-free room in your head. No…you’ve cleaned out space and invited him to take a little more from you. I get it. He’s got a strong personality, and he’s your father. You’re confused, but excited too, and you’re grateful, but you’re also still pretty damn angry with him. And not dealing with those feelings is wearing on you.”

What could I say? It was true.

“Yeah. It is.”

“Sharing your experience is one thing, but giving it away is another. You don’t owe that to him or your mom or me or anyone. You worked your ass off for this chance. You did it, babe. It was all you,” he whispered fiercely.

I didn’t expect the prick of tears behind my eyes. I blinked wildly and squinted at the horizon.

“He’s not easy, Der. He’s not a villain, he’s not my enemy. I’ve talked to countless therapists and I’ve conquered the worst of my anger, but I wasn’t prepared for this. I need to read the handbook about what to do when the guy who abandons you as a kid returns with a vengeance when you’re twenty-fucking-six,” I huffed derisively. “The thing is…he isn’t going to change. He won’t suddenly turn into Dad of the Year. And if he does, it’ll be for half brothers I barely know. How is that fair?”