“Thanks.”
Their mouth goes from a straight and serious line to a smirk before they’re biting down on their lower lip and that hand on my shoulder gently punches my arm. “Anddamn, you and Vale, huh? So I called it.”
“Shut up. It all started with you too, you know that? At that point, I didn’t have it figured out, and might’ve just lived so unaware of it. But ever since that conversation, it’s like all thelittle, ignorable thoughts I’ve ever had and never been forced to sit with were suddenly loud and obvious. The more time I spent with Vale, the more I started realizing I like him. And that maybe some of the things that convinced me I was a really good ally were actually pretty bisexual when I took a closer look at them. And then, at the ABC party, some dancing led to a kiss and that led to, well, him being my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?”
“I—yeah.” My hands at my waist tighten. I look down at the grass, so it’s not entirely obvious when my mouth goes into a big, toothy smile, and I nod. “Boyfriend.”
“Pos, I’m happy for you, compa. Vale’s a good guy, and you’re a good guy. Pretty hot couple, actually, if I’m—”
“It’s complicated though,” I say, interrupting them. “You and him are the only people who know. I haven’t come out to anyone else yet. And just thinking about the whole world knowing—shit, even just the house or the squad— it makes my whole body start panicking, Kat. Because I’m happy. So fucking happy. And I don’t want anyone to take that away from me. To take him away from me. They aren’t ready to know.”
Their smile goes serious, turning into pressed lips. And they let out a sigh as they ask, “So, then what?”
“I keep it as uncomplicated as possible.”
“By letting the game get in the way of your happiness? Letting toxic masculinity and machismo stop you from being who you are? Because you think you wouldn’t be allowed to be on this pitch and love a guy at the same time? There are queer professional athletes, Gabo.”
“Yeah, but name one Mexican gay or biguyfutbolista playing right now,” I say, frustration in my voice. It nearly comes out like a yell. Like a plea.Prove me wrong, please.
Instead, a long few seconds of quiet go by before Kat’s answering, “I can’t. But—”
“I get that you want everything for me, Kat. But it’s also only day fucking one. And I don’t want everything to come down crashing so soon because the guys that I have to practice with and play with and share a locker room with aren’t as accepting as you. I don’t want to have to find out that, as much as I believed they’d have my back, this is something that only gets them turning their backs on me.”
“Theydon’t get to make that call,” Kat replies. “You realize it’s bigger than them or Vale, right? It’syou. It’s youandthe future you deserve. They shouldn’t get to be in between that.”
“But they do.” My arms come up and cross over my chest as I rock my feet back and forth. Just thinking about it, picturing so many faces, makes my lungs tighten.
Because that is the reality of this life: everyone gets a say before I do when it comes to this.
“Our people love the game.Ilove the game. But if I went out there, as an openly bi keeper, what do you think would happen? Because I know.” My finger presses into my chest, over my heart when I tell them. And I look right at them, wanting them to hear me. To know how in a corner I’ve got myself.
“Look what happened to that player from Florida. Think about our people. We’ve heard about those crowds and their homophobic chants. How FIFA had to threaten México fans to make them stop being openly homophobic. Just last week, they were getting in trouble again for their chants. And you think it’s only on that side of the border? If I were to end up with LAFC or on some other MLS team, that Mexicans here wouldn’t have something to say? They all see a specific type of person when they think of a footballer, and it’s not a guy who’s crushing on guys. My options for my future would be cut in half the moment I came out. Maybe even more than that. I don’t have a choice about this.”
“Well, you kinda do,” they say back all matter-of-factly. “You’re choosing to let them win. You’re choosing to do your best to play nice when they don’t deserve that from you.”
“You don’t understand the cards I’ve been dealt. I get that maybe you out of anyone I know might be able to relate to some of it, but still. You don’t get to say that so easily as if this is something I’m doing happily. As if I’m not doing this because I care about Vale, and I don’t want him to get caught up in the kind of hate I’d get.”
“I know, Gabo, but I say it trying to make sure you realize just how phenomenal you are. Because you’re only seeing half of it. This chingón, first gen, from some city in Texas no one even knows anything about except for Selena, could be someone who makes football cool up here. You’re going to be a person lots of kids want to be. You’re choosing to let them win not just when it comes to Vale, but when it comes to you. When it comes to the queer brown kids looking for their place on a pitch that come after you. And that’s what hurts me most, Chivo.”
“But it’s not just me now. If I was single and realizing I was bi, sure, maybe it’d be different. If we were seniors right now, and I was team captain, looking at handfuls of offers, then there might be a clear path forward. But maybe not.” My fists clench, and the words start coming out harsh. Hitting that point where I’m arguing and it’s turning into wanting to cry. All the shitty truths and reminders that I’m powerless here are like a fist squeezing my entire body.
“And if anything ever happened to Vale—” Yeah, really struggling to hold in those tears. Hypotheticals that feel really real play in my head, taunting me. “If anyone ever said anything to him because they hate us,if someone hurt himand I couldn’t do anything about it, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”
“So, then what?”
“For as long as I have him, I want him to myself, without anyone else getting a say in it. They can think they control me and my choices, but they don’t get him. They can have me when I step on a pitch, and I can be who they expect me to be, but that’s it.”
Kat grabs one of my fisted hands, unclenching it and holding it between both of theirs.
“Don’t think I don’t see where you’re coming from or that I’m here to invalidate your fears, but you feeling like you’ve got no option except to hide yourself hurtsme. You can say this all now, but when tomorrow comes and you actually do have to go and pretend to be someone you aren’t just for them, I know it’s going to hurt you too. How do you expect this to work long term?”
“It’s not like we’ve never been hurt before. Played through an injury.”
“Well I wish I could fight everyone who’s the reason you feel that way. I wish I knew how to fix it. Because I would. You need to know that some of us are here ready to fight for you.”
I give them a soft nod as I tell them, “I know. I know you would.”
