We Were Doomed From the Start

Boyd

My four months of work placement are almost over, and they’ve gone by in a blur. I have two and a half weeks left, but it no longer feels important. My words to Holden ring true: success isn’t about academic or career accolades. None of that means anything if you’re not happy.

I’m not happy.

Not even sitting in the crowded stadium with Phoenix at my side, waiting for his beloved Toronto SC to take the field. He’s jazzed about the team he got chosen for in the city league, but we haven’t broached the topic of Sophie being there. Whether he intends to invite her to future games is a mystery at this point. I’m not really sure how to discuss it with him.

He sips his massive soda, and I gulp my overpriced, flat beer. There’s an awkward air between us that has never been present before.

Before I can cut into it, Phoenix blurts, “I didn’t want to choose sides.”

I look over at him, but he’s staring straight ahead, so I can’t gather any insight from his expression. “Choose sides for what?” That’s an ambiguous statement, considering we’re here for a soccer match.

“Mom and Dad. I know what he did. Mom doesn’t know I know, but I have for a long time. I didn’t understand what cheating meant when I was younger, but… yeah.” He releases an awkward laugh, still focusing on the field. “He made me choose. Last time I saw him, he said I had to pick him or Mom, so…”

“What?” My fist clenches around my Solo cup, sloshing some beer onto my lap. “He said that?”

Phoenix nods. “Yeah. I was five the last time I saw him, and he told me if I picked Mom, I’d never see him again.”

“Have you ever told your mom this?”

He shakes his head. “She was pretty torn up over things already. I chose her and that was that. But it stinks.” He takes a big swallow and his eyes flutter closed.

I throw my arm around him, both furious and heartbroken his deadbeat dad said that to his five-year-old son. “His loss, man.”

“That’s not my point.” He finally turns his head to look at me. “You’ve been like a cool extra dad to me, so I don’t miss him. But Sophie showed up, and I saw how happy she made you.”

My throat tightens at the mention of her name. I take a pull of beer to help. It doesn’t.

“Then she made me happy too. She’s cool. Easy to talk to. I can see why you love her so much.”

“I never told you I—”

“Dude. I’m thirteen, not stupid.” He rolls his eyes. “Again, that’s not my point.”

His point is quite elusive, because I don’t know what he’s getting at.

“What’s your point, then?” I ask, trying to encourage him to spill.

“I didn’t want to choose sides,” he repeats. He takes another gulp of his soda while I’m left processing his words. “I don’t know why you guys broke up. Mom wouldn’t really tell me, but I didn’t want to have to choose.”

The third time he makes that statement, I finally understand. He invited her to his tryouts because he didn’t want to pick one of us over the other. I might have known him a lot longer, but she obviously made an impression on him in the short time they spent together.

“I’d never make you choose. If I had it my way, it wouldn’t be an issue, but I lost my say in the matter.” That was a terrible thing to say. I lean my head back and look up at the grey sky, internally cursing myself for implying it’s her fault. “It wasn’t really her choice, either.”

“Aren’t you guys adults?” He thrusts his chin forward and narrows his eyes at me. “How is it not your choice? I mean, with my dad, he chose to do what he did. But how do two people who want to be together not have the choice? If you’re telling me I’m going to grow up, have to pay my own damn bills, and still not get to make decisions for myself, I don’t want it.” His eyes bulge and he turns to face his feet. “Don’t tell my mom I said damn.”

I chuckle, and it’s the first time I’ve had a decent laugh for weeks. “Your secret’s safe with me, bud.” It takes me a few seconds longer to figure out how to answer the rest of his rant. “Sometimes, when you’re older, things get forced on you and don’t leave you with much of a choice at all.”

He scans the field and glances up at the time on the scoreboard. “I know if she could have, she would have chosen you.”

And that one sentence makes me question everything about how things turned out between us. Maybe there’s more to the story than she told me. But how will I know if she won’t tell me? Why wouldn’t she talk to me so we could decide together?

As the soccer teams run out onto the pitch, I find myself lost in another haze. I’m staring at the field, but my eyes are vacant, not processing anything from the outside world. My thoughts replay the entire conversation Sophie and I had the last time we spoke.

“It’s not a simple decision to just stick to what’s morally right when it’s business and the people you love at stake.”

What did she mean by the people she loves at stake? What did Henry threaten her with? Maybe in her mind, she had to choose sides, and got stuck on the one she didn’t want.

Cheers erupt around us as the Toronto SC score at the thirty-four minute mark. The players, who have been running for half an hour, whip around the field and gather in a huddle. The sea of people in royal blue shirts filling the stands are roaring and the loudspeaker blasts a Queen song for all to hear.

Phoenix jumps out of his seat, cheering his heart out. “Did you see that?”

Not when it happened, but thanks to the benefits of video replay, I do now. “Yeah, Captain. That’ll be you someday.”

His smile grows twice as wide.

I don’t know when he grew up so much or when he got so wise, but I cling to his words. “I know if she could have, she would have chosen you.”

So I pull a cowardly move to ease my own aching heart, hoping it will help hers too. I tug out my phone and draft a message. My finger hovers over it until the game is nearing the end.

The scoreboard is tied 1-1, when I hear Phoenix say, “You gotta take a shot, man.” He’s looking at me, not the field.

Now’s the time to take my shot at moving on.

Boyd: I respect your choice.

Except, if I had my choice, I wouldn’t move on at all.

Boyd: But I miss you.