2 years earlier
"Hernan, here!" With exhausted limbs and ragged breath, Tyler ran across the midline of the field, narrowly avoiding being called off for offside as the passed the last defender right before his teammate and friend kicked the pass.
Every muscle hurt while Tyler sprinted across the grass to catch the ball. Being on extension time with the game tied 2-2, this might be his last chance to win the game for his team. The ref could blow the whistle that signaled the end of regular time at any moment, meaning extension time followed by penalties. But all that could be avoided with a late goal, right as time ran out. Winning this game would mean everything. It was thirty years since his school won the soccer finals of the high school tournament. That time, the player who scored the winning goal was named Garrett Caster.
This wasn't the time to reminisce. This was the time to run. And Tyler ran. He ignored the screams of his lungs, begging for him to stop and breathe, and instead pushed further. The perfectly timed pass from Hernan bounced in front of him. It was within his grasp to reach. But the opponent goalie also ran toward the ball, making himself big to deter Tyler. Luckily, Tyler wasn't scared. He didn't care if he would break his limbs when they inevitably collided. He only cared about winning.
Using whatever fuel remained in his body, he threw his left foot toward the ball, redirecting it to the side right before the goalie threw himself at it. The ball went to the left and Tyler ran to the right, rounding the goaltender.
Now, nothing remained between him and the net anymore. But the ball rolled fast away from him and from behind, he could hear the rapid steps of chasing defenders.
No energy remained in Tyler's body as he threw himself toward the ball in a last-ditch effort. He slid on the grass toward the rolling target, not sure if he would be able to reach it.
It all happened so fast and so slowly at the same time. The tip of his left toe touched the ball, changing its direction ever so slightly. Laying on the ground, with grass stains on his shorts and dirt streaks on his skin, he could only watch it travel across the grass. The pace was slow and the trajectory was unclear. But maybe it was still enough?
When the crowd erupted in cheers, Tyler knew his effort hadn't been in vain. Too exhausted to move, he reached his hands in the hair, able to give his exhausted lungs some air before all of his teammates tumbled atop of him.
"You did it! You fucking did it, Tyler!" Hernan yelled in his ear, placing a rough kiss on his sweaty forehead. It wasn't the kind of boy-kiss Tyler dreamt about on lonely nights, but right now, it was the best kind of kiss. It was a kiss of victory.
Buried in that pile of congratulations and sweat, Tyler couldn't help but wonder if winning had felt the same for his dad. Perhaps this was the closest he would ever get to the man that sired him. Perhaps at that moment, they were one and the same. Exhausted, exhilarated, and most of all, victorious.
***
"Well done, son!" Tyler's uncle greeted Tyler when he stepped off the field, adrenaline still pumping through his veins and sweat running down his forehead after the heated game. "I was hollering like a madman up there in the stands."
"Thank you," Tyler mumbled, unsure of how to handle the praise coming his way after the game. Nothing could erase the smile on his lips though.
"You were great, Ty!" To Tyler's surprise, his cousin Lance ran up to him, giving him a hearty pat on the shoulder. "So much better than I ever was. I was mostly on the bench though..."
"When did you get here?" Tyler asked, happy but confused to see his older cousin there. Being six years older than him, Lance had always been Tyler's idol as a kid. And despite the age difference, Lance had never been beyond playing with his younger cousin. Tyler remembered countless hours spent kicking ball together during family get-togethers. "I thought you were in the Middle East?" Lance had enrolled in the army right before Tyler moved in with his aunt and uncle, making his room available for Tyler to take over, and between boot camp training and being sent on a mission overseas, he'd only been home a handful of times in the almost two years that had passed since.
"I landed this morning," Lance explained, a huge smile on his lips. "I managed to get a few days of leave, so Dad picked me up and we drove directly here."
"I didn't want to tell you beforehand, in case it didn't work out," Kevin filled in. "I figured you would be happy to see Lance here."
Unsure of how all the current excitement, from the game and from seeing his beloved cousin, could even be contained in his body, Tyler grabbed Lance and put his arms around him. "I am," he said. "Thank you for coming."
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world!" his cousin replied. "And you certainly made it worth the trip."
While Tyler embraced his cousin, the rest of the family caught up. His aunt, Janie, and Emmie all congratulated him on the spectacular win as well. Although Emmie complained a bit that his shirt smelled sweaty and that she was tired. Ninety minutes plus overtime was way more soccer than her toddler patience could handle. Luckily, Aunt Donna had put on Paw Patrol on her tablet, and, while Tyler scanned the rest of the crowd for a specific familiar face, his sister was happily retelling him the plot from the episodes.
So many happy faces in the crowd, and yet, the face he'd hoped to see was nowhere to be found.
She wasn't here. Of course, she wasn't. His mom, who was currently in a treatment facility close by, had told him when he visited last week, excitedly telling her about them making the finals, that she would try to make it.
But she hadn't. By now, Tyler supposed he should be used to the disappointment, but every promise still lit a kindling of hope inside of him. Maybe, this time it would be different. But it never was. And once again, that had been proven.
He inhaled, focusing on the exhilaration of the moment. His mother couldn't ruin this for him. This was his moment. And since she wasn't there in person, he wouldn't allow her to infiltrate his mind either.
Luckily, an infectious smile from across the stands erased the thoughts of his mother. Although, instead, another dilemma entered Tyler's mind when his gaze locked with Sarah Mendoza, who together with the rest of her family congratulated her brother on his achievement. Tyler had noticed Sarah's frequent looks and smiles coming his way lately and noted her insistence to tag along with whatever he and Hernan were doing. He suspected her keenness wasn't because she coveted her older brother's company, but rather that his own presence was the main allure.
Tyler liked Sarah. He liked her a lot. She was cheerful, caring, and whip-smart. She was also a hell of a soccer player; as a sophomore, she was already the star of the high school's girl's team. He supposed she was pretty as well. But, despite all that, he was also quite sure he didn't like her in the same way she liked him. Which meant, he would eventually have to let her down.
"Caster, can I talk to you for a moment?" The firm hand of his coach. Mr. Anderson, touched Tyler's shoulder, beckoning him to come along. The call instilled nervousness in him, making him wonder if he'd done something wrong. He'd just scored the winning goal of the finals, surely he was not in trouble?
"Sure..." Tyler replied, hesitant but unwilling to refuse his coach's command.
"I'll just borrow your nephew for a little while," Coach Anderson assured Tyler's family. "I'll have him right back soon."
Led by his coach, Tyler entered the locker room, which was still empty since all players were getting congratulated by their families and friends. Not knowing what was to come, his heart pounded almost as rapidly as during the last seconds of the game.
"Sit down." His coach gestured toward one of the benches. Tyler obliged. "I just wanted to tell you personally what a great game you did out there," Coach Anderson continued, breaking into a smile. Tyler's heart slowed down slightly. It didn't seem like this talk was regarding any wrongdoing of his."You could really make a name for yourself if you wanted to."
Tyler remained confused about the purpose of this conversation. If he just wanted to tell Tyler he did a good game, that could have been achieved with his family around. "Thank you," he replied courteously to the compliment, still slightly on guard. "I... like playing."
"I can see that you're a bit confused about why I brought you here." Coach Anderson chuckled, making Tyler feel less tense. The man was probably not planning to scold him. "I didn't mean to make you nervous. I just want to tell you that because I'm impressed with your skills, I will put in a good word for you with my friend who is a scout for Westerland College. He'll probably come to watch you play next season, and if he likes what he sees, you may be offered a scholarship." The coach put his hand on Tyler's shoulder. "I really do think you got what it takes, Caster. You probably have to work on your grades a bit, as I've seen your transcripts, but I think this could be a great opportunity for you. And well, I played with Garrett, bless his soul, back in the day, so I would love to play a part in his son's success. So is this something you're interested in?"
Tyler could do nothing but nod. A scholarship would be a dream. It would mean he could put himself through college, paying back his aunt and uncle for their efforts by not putting any additional burden on them to support his education. It would mean he would be able to keep playing soccer, the activity he loved the most in the world and the one thing that made him feel close to his father, after he graduated next year.
But, it would mean he would have to keep bottling up his problematic emotions because he imagined being open about such things would decrease his chances at a scholarship. He certainly hadn't heard of many openly gay professional soccer players. Surely, such revelations entailed a risk of ostracization when no teammates wanted to change in the same locker room.
"Yes," Tyler said, regardless of his qualms. Because he couldn't turn down an opportunity to walk in his father's footsteps and make his aunt and uncle proud. "Please tell your friend I'm very interested in what Westerland has to offer."
Author's Note: As you may have realized, there a bit of a time jump has occurred in the Bitter timeline, moving the story forward about 2 years. I hope that wasn't too confusing (since I will only cover the important events of the past, there will be some jumps in time between them at times).
And since I'm planning to enter this story into the ongoing category of the Wattys, I need to hit 20k words before the 8th of August. This means there needs to be at least another chapter before then (depending on the length of the chapter). So expect some more updates this week :)