Chapter 2

I ask him about him. He tells me that he is an only child. He says, “My mom died in a car accident three years ago. She had always been my number one fan. My dad is great, but I miss my mom every day. I guess I haven’t coped with that loss very well. It’s part of why I derailed last year and almost lost everything. It’s also why I see a therapist every week and cannot live alone. But it also gave me perspective on what I really want to do with my life.”

“I’m so sorry about your mom.”

I look him in the eyes. “I see a therapist too.” He looks at me expectantly, so I continue. “I have social anxiety. It makes no sense. I came from a large, loving family. I have suffered no tragedies in my life. I just prefer being alone. I know it’s not a healthy or fulfilling way to live, so by choice, I’m working on it. But still, it’s how I’m hardwired.”

“Shane, it’s not weird or wrong. You are who you are. I am who I am. I kind of think we compliment each other. We’re complete opposites, and because of that, maybe we can help each other.”

“You can help to keep me grounded and I can gently nudge you outside of your comfort zone a little.” He dips a chip in some guacamole. “I meant it when I said that you’re not responsible for me, but I’d like to be able to talk to you. You know, about things I won’t say to my teammates. No pressure, but maybe we can be friends at some point. I don’t have any real friends.”

He surely has lots of unreal friends. Fans. Hero worshipers. But not friends. Neither do I.

He continues, “And you can talk to me too.”

I’ve already talked to him more in one night that I talked to Riley in a whole semester. I look at my new roommate and I nod.

So, that’s what we do over the course of the next few weeks. We talk to each other. I know there are things we haven’t told each other yet. There are certainly things I haven’t told him and I suspect that goes both ways, but we’re slowly building a friendship.

We’re still total opposites. We still drive each other a little crazy. He continues to be exasperated by how messy my side of our room is. And I’m irritated by how neat and tidy his side is. I feel like messing things up sometimes just to rock his world a little. We also like very different books, movies and music. And when it comes to video games, we’re not even in the same universe.

Yeah, we drive each other a little crazy, but we also confide in each other. We established a vulnerability that first night and have a bond that we’re both still figuring out. But still, I think he misses last year’s arrangement. I know sometimes he wishes I was more like Riley.

The good news is that between his classes, my classes, his labs and his job and my football practices and games, we don’t have too much time to get on each other’s nerves. But if that’s such a good thing, then why do I kind of miss him when he’s not around?

He knows I went to most of his home games last year. I play that down though and I never talk about his games or his performance when we’re together. I hold onto that for just me. And I don’t just go to the home games either. About half of the away games are close enough for me to drive to. So I do. But still, I don’t tell him. It’s not that he’s arrogant – he’s really not – but he just doesn’t need to know that I kind of think he’s a halfway decent guy. The truth is, he’s probably the best friend I’ve ever had. How sad is that? This jock dude who is six inches taller than me, seventy pounds (all muscle) heavier than me, and shares no similar interests with me at all, is becoming a real friend.

Yeah, I need to slow that shit way down.

It’s Saturday afternoon and I am in the stands at Elmhurst College watching Cam’s Cardinals as they manhandle the competition. Being an away game, there are very few of us Cardinals fans in the stands. And since I don’t flamboyantly cheer and I wear nondescript clothing, I am not presumed to be one of them.

There are four guys behind me that do not seem to be rooting for the home team either. They actually don’t seem to be rooting for either team. Because they are right behind me, I can hear almost everything they say. Over the course of the game, I begin to understand that they are Wheaton College kids. Not actually on the football team, but superfans. It’s like their scouting other teams. I pull out my phone and discretely check the Cardinals’ schedule. Sure enough, next Saturday, we play Wheaton College at home.

I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but it’s hard to not hear them. I learn more about them than I would ever want to know… One of them just broke up with Stacey and another is thinking about dumping Debbie. These four guys know a lot about each other. They live together, sharing one off-campus house. They begin to comment on Cam’s performance. How could they not? He’s dominating the game yet again.

The apparent leader of the four seems to be named Justin. He says, “There’s no way we can beat them. Not with that running back they have.”

The others have agreed with everything Justin has said all afternoon and they agree with this too. One of them suggests, “Maybe he’ll get injured between now and next week and won’t play.”

Juston grunts, “We’re in the fourth quarter. This game’s almost over.”

“Maybe he’ll get called away on a family emergency,” another suggests.

“Didn’t this guy have some problems last year? Some self-medication issues?”

“That was a long time ago. He’s clean now.”

I can hear the shrug behind me.

“People fall off the wagon. It happens. Maybe he just doesn’t make it to the game next week. If Cam Smiley plays, we don’t win.”

They are certainly right about that.

Another week goes by. Shane doesn’t know that I know he goes to my games. Even some of the away games. Does he go because I’m his roommate or because he’s that big of a fan? Or does he go because he’s beginning to reluctantly consider me to be a friend? I’m spending less and less time with my teammates outside of practice and more and more time with Shane.

We seem to be helping each other. Most of our talks happen at the end of the day, before going to sleep. It’s easier to open up and be vulnerable in a dark room without having to see the other person. Although, my mind always seems to conjure up a perfect image of Shane while we talk. His dark blonde hair, his blue-green eyes. A few leftover freckles from the summer sun. He just pops into my head and then I struggle to shake him free.

It’s Homecoming weekend and there is a big party/dance kind of a thing tonight after the football game. I have been bugging Shane all week to attend. I know his therapist would want him to go and so do I. He should. He needs to meet more people. I haven’t convinced him yet. It’s hard to imagine him alone in our room, reading or studying on his bed while the whole rest of the school is at the party. Actually, that’s not hard to imagine at all. I’ve seen it a dozen times and it’s only mid-October.

Because it’s gameday, my practice this morning is light. Mostly just sprints and warm ups. Most of my energy will be spent during the game itself. After most of the other guys leave, I hang back and meet with our offensive coach for a bit. We talk about Wheaton’s defense and review a few new plays we have in mind. By the time I make it to the locker room to hit the showers, the place is pretty much deserted. After toweling off, I slip into some fresh sweats and head out of the fitness center. The rear exit is a shorter walk to the dorm, so that’s where I head.

As I clear the door, I get grabbed. Something is pulled over my head and I can see nothing. Hands are all over me. I’d guess about eight of them. That would mean I am outnumbered four to one. I can’t shout because one of the eight hands is covering my mouth over whatever is covering my head.

An unfamiliar voice says, “Don’t fight it and you won’t get hurt. We just have a pregame Homecoming surprise for you.”

Another voice laughs. I have no idea who these guys are. But when I find that I’m being shoved into the backseat of a car with two guys flanking me on either side, I begin to worry for real.

I’ve been doing work in the science lab all morning. I’m heading back to our room and it’s a few hours before gametime. As I approach, I see the same four football players loitering in the hall who were in my room two months ago, the day I moved in. Cam has done a good job of keeping these guys away from our room since that day.

They seem relieved to see me as I approach with caution.

The ruddy-faced one is the spokesman, “Shane! Thank god! Have you seen Cam?”

I shake my head, “We both left at the same time this morning. He went to practice and I went to the lab. What’s going on?”

“We can’t find him. No one has seen him since practice ended. He stayed longer than the rest of us, but now he’s missing.”

“We don’t know. He’s not answering his phone. Texts go unread. We’ve searched the fitness center, the dining hall, really the whole campus, except for your room. But we’ve pounded on the door. If he’s in there, he’s ignoring us.”

I tell them not to worry, but something doesn’t feel right. “Maybe he’s off clearing his head before the big game.”

Ruddy-Face scoffs, “He doesn’t do that shit.”

I shrug, “His dad is coming tonight, right? Maybe he’s having lunch or something with him?”

“Without his phone? He would have answered us.”

I get my key out of my pocket, “Maybe he’s taking a nap. He is a deep sleeper. Thunderstorms don’t wake him.”

They all anxiously await as I nervously insert the key into my door. The door swings open and the room is empty. His wallet and phone are on his dresser. He only leaves them here when he’s at practice, at games or in the shower.

I ask, “Did you try the showers here in the dorm?”

All four of them nod.

One of them asks, “You don’t think he’d…” the thought is left unfinished, hanging in the air.

Ruddy-Face shakes his head, “No way! Our man is long over that shit.”

“But dude. Where is he then? We didn’t see it coming last year either when suddenly…” Another unfinished thought.

But I’m with Ruddy-Face. Cam would not… He just wouldn’t. He’s been clean and sober for nine months now. We talk every night. He seems like he’s in a really good place, mental health wise. Unless there are things he’s not telling me… No. I know Cam. Ruddy-Face does too. But what happened to him then?

Ruddy-Face hands me his phone, “Put your number in here.”

I do as I’m told. I hand it back to him and he texts me a test message. “You call if you see or hear anything. The team is supposed to meet ninety minutes before the game. That’s in just a couple hours. We need to find him.”

The four of them take off.

My spidey-sense is tingling. Then I remember Elmhurst last Saturday. Those four Wheaton College guys sitting behind me in the stands. Was their talk not so harmless?

I start to panic as I drive north. I don’t know where I’m going. I mean, my GPS is guiding me to Wheaton College, but once I get there…what then? I have no freaking idea. I need a plan. Let’s start with what I know. It’s not much. It’s a ridiculously short list of items. There are four of them. I had caught a couple glimpses of their faces so I should be able to recognize them. The leader’s name was Justin. They live together in off-campus housing. They probably won’t recognize me. That’s it. Is that enough? It’s what I’ve got.

I considered calling Ruddy-Face with what I know, but I decided not to. First, I could have this all wrong and if I do, I shouldn’t be pulling the four of them away from real efforts to find Cam. And second, if I’m right, The five of us stomping and barging around the town and campus will only raise flags and take away the element of surprise. If I’m right, those Wheaton guys have no idea that I’m on my way. If I find their house and Cam is being somehow held inside, my solo non-threatening presence will get me pretty far. Hopefully.

As I get closer, an idea comes to mind. I stop at a downtown pizza place and buy two large and one small along with a bottle of Gatorade. I drive in a circle around campus and come to a grid of streets nearby where the houses look like they might be occupied by students. The yards have no family feel to them.

I find a place to park on one of the streets and I take a deep breath. I feel my anxiety building. It’s at this moment that I realize that I haven’t felt much anxiety lately. Cam is the reason why. Our late night talks, just his presence in my life… But right now, anxiety is back with a vengeance. If I even find him at all, what am I about to walk into?

I leave the small pizza and the Gatorade in the backseat and I grab the two large pizza boxes. I pick one random house, walk up to the front door and ring the bell. “A nice looking boy a year or two older than me answers. He looks confused.

I say, “I’m sorry. The person taking orders at the restaurant was busy and got some things messed up. I have a pizza order, but the address is wrong. All I know is that it is in this neighborhood. Four or five guys and one of them is named Justin.”