The Break

It was a chilly spring day, and even with the sun bathing the metal bleachers beside the tennis courts, they still stuck to my bare legs like blocks of ice. The last bell had long since rung, and matches were well underway between Principal Catholic High School and our rivals, Modesta Christian. Unfortunately, I'd have to wait to play. Singles players were always first on the court, and thanks to the new coach, I had been placed on doubles this game, so it would be a while longer before my match was up.

I watched anxiously, my body shivering, not from my frigid bench, but from the nerves of how my mother would react to the knowledge that I had been ‘demoted’ to a two-person position. I knew how much she despised it when I relied on others, even when I had no say in the matter. Luckily, the negative thoughts would disappear the moment I saw her—the only person who could make the fear and panic melt away.

“Hey, honey!” Bryssa spoke, adjusting her green and black checkered skirt as she sat beside me.

We locked eyes, smiles crossing our faces, before she leaned in for a kiss. I could feel my heart beating against my chest. Public displays of affection were taboo, not only because of the school we attended, but also because of her. Surveying the surroundings for a moment with hypervigilant paranoia, ensuring no parents or teachers were looking, I felt pleasantly obscured by the active games. With a feeling of safety washing over me, I pressed forward and locked in a quick but passionate peck.

“Hey, babe,” I replied, briefly ogling her youthful, almond beige face and busty features pushing out of the white button-up of the uniform. “Spring suits you, cutie.”

“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the game, Captain?” She giggled, putting a hand on my arm and gasping. “Tahvin! You’re freezing!”

"Yeah, my sweatshirt is in the car. I'm fine though—"

"Absolutely not. That will not do."

Getting up, Bryssa adjusted herself on the bleachers behind me before draping her arms over my shoulders. She rested her face against mine, giving me a quick cheek peck as she snuggled up to me and covered us both with a blanket. The chill and concern that had filled me quickly retreated, and I began to feel better. We sat there like that for a long while as the games continued, and with a small peck on the cheek here, a playful hair twirl there, and plenty of youthful laughter, we presented ourselves as two people very much in the throes of first love.

When my match eventually came, and I separated myself from Bryssa, I felt ready to compete. Playing my heart out, I did my best to control the court and make up for my teammates' shortcomings. This was one of the reasons I always struggled with doubles. The thought of relying on others to get the job done conflicted with my do-it-yourself upbringing, which meant I had to work twice as hard to maintain my high standard of competitiveness. But, in the end, while it wasn’t a blowout, we held our own against a tough opponent and ultimately won.

"Great job!" Bryssa screamed and cheered for me as I walked off the court.

"Thanks," I replied with an exhausted huff, shooting her a smile as I scanned the crowd. "Have you seen my mom?"

"Hmmm," She hummed to herself, matching my gaze and examining the crowd of parents as they approached their children. "I did see her during the match. But she seemed really focused, and I didn't want to interrupt her."

"Ah, well, maybe she already went home."

As the butterflies fluttering in my gut began to turn to knots, I felt Bryssa's hand take mine. Looking down at her and her youthful smile, she gave me two big blinks.

"Hey, could you give me a ride home? Mom had to work late."

"Yeah, sure," I responded mindlessly, thinking more about my mother's current mindset than the prospect of an empty apartment with my girlfriend. "Let's go."

The drive to Bryssa's was short, allowing us to sneak some more ‘us time’ in before I eventually had to make my way home. As we enjoyed each other's company, my nerves slowly settled, and the fear of what could be waiting for me disappeared. It was only after her mother had returned and I said my 'hellos' and 'goodbyes' that I finally departed for what awaited me. Parking in the driveway of my family's second house, I rushed in through the garage and past my mother's SUV, barely having enough time to place my backpack down beyond the door before—

“Tahvin, what was that?!” My mother screamed at me.

Storming out of the kitchen like a tiger in pursuit of its prey, she wore flour on her apron and a wrathful look in her eyes. The sight, forcing my heart to stop as the joy I had felt drained from me in an instant, was one I was familiar with. I knew that what approached me was rage incarnate, not looking to beat me down, but break me.

“What was what?” I plead with my hands up in front of me.

“What was what?” She mocked my reply as I could sense the venom beginning to taint her words. “You know what I’m talking about. I’m so embarrassed by you. That disgusting public display—you two fondling each other at the game.”

“What do you mean? Bryssa? She was keeping me warm.”

“Oh, keeping you warm? Keeping you warm?! Did you forget a sweatshirt?! What will people say seeing you being clung to like that? Being all lovie in public? What a disgusting embarrassment!”

I knew now that there was no fighting this. It wasn’t about me, but, instead, the family image. It was about my parents looking good in comparison to the other rich braggarts whose children attended my school. And while our family may have been well enough off to have two homes, a beach house, and a condo in another state, they didn’t own multiple car dealerships or a winery, nor were they doctors, lawyers, or dotcom millionaires.

In comparison to the figures I attended school with, our family was poor. And as such, they were worried about their image, not mine. Worried about how it looked that I was dating a young Latina girl who barely maintained her grades and whose single mother struggled to provide for her household. They wondered why I had chosen her over the girl set to be an Olympian or the genius going to an Ivy League. All that mattered to them was the image our family presented to the world. A world that they aimed to impress.

“I’m sorry, Mom, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not. Ugh! I can’t believe you. You know—you know, we sacrificed a lot so you could go to that school. I live in this house with you, this crappy tract home, for five days a week! And then when I return to your father in Dos Gatos, who works himself to the bone and is alone all week, I take care of him. It’s hard on our marriage, but we do this for you! For you! And you spit in our face like this, with that girl?!”

“I know, Mom.” I looked down at the ground, my heart sinking. “Thank you for everything you do for me. I’m sorry. I’m really sor—”

“I didn’t raise you this way, Tahvin! Weak and pathetic! Grow a goddamn backbone, and don’t be so dependent on your sophomore girlfriend. You’re a senior, graduating in a few months and attending a prestigious Jesuit University afterward. She’ll be lucky to make it into the local Community College! So, stop being so weak! A weak male! I didn’t do all of this—ALL OF THIS—to raise a weak male like you.”

My heart broke, and my eyes began to swell with tears. I wanted to cry but—

“Don’t cry.” She ordered, grabbing my backpack from the floor and shoving it into my arms. “Don’t you dare cry in front of me. Real men don’t cry! Now, get out of my sight. Do homework in your room. Go!”

Gripping my backpack, I rushed to my room, closing the door behind me firmly but not hard enough to stir any more conflict. As quietly as I could, I sat atop my bed, looking at the plain white wall across from me as tears began to race down my cheeks. After all, that was the only thing I could do. If I made a sound, she would reprimand me even more. So I wept in silence, feeling my body grow heavy as the tears flowed from me like a stream that would never end.

And, as the darkness began to take me into its cold embrace, I wondered what death would feel like. A thought that would hang in my consciousness for the rest of my life.