Hoax in One

| 17 |

He did text me later.

I let things go too far last night. I'm sorry.

I'd been thinking about it for three days straight.

He still hadn't responded after I replied with, There's nothing to be sorry for.

Tate had never been a big texter, but I thought I'd hear from him at least.

So that Wednesday afternoon I skipped my last class of the day and settled into the dark room. The absence of light was somehow able to soothe my anxiety.

I had just popped open my film cassette when the revolving door behind me started to turn. My heart went into double time. I couldn't turn on the light or I'd wreck my film, but I didn't want to be standing in a room with a stranger I couldn't see. Especially a stranger who knew someone was in there from the sign I'd hung and was ignoring photography etiquette.

I heard a weird footstep shuffle as the person entered the room. I stood completely still. They couldn't see me either—so maybe I was a six-foot-five linebacker for all they knew.

"Devin?"

"God, Matt. You scared the shit out of me. How'd you know I was in here?"

"I waited for you after your class, but you weren't there. I took a guess."

"What do you want?"

"Devin, I need you." This time he sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

"What's wrong?" I softened.

He held back a sob. "I injured my knee in practice."

I felt my way in the dark toward his pained voice. I hit what I thought was a crutch first before his hands found me and pulled me into a hug. His tears hit my hair. I didn't know what to say. "How bad is it?" I whispered.

"I don't know. I'm waiting on the MRI results." He hung his head and cried into my shoulder. "It hurts so much. What if I can't play? What if I'm out for the rest of the season?"

"Hey. That's not going to happen."

"This is everything for me. I don't have anything else to fall back on."

"Matt, you already have everything. Friends, family, the best PTs and doctors and coaches. You don't know what's going to happen yet."

He shook his head. "It was like extended. I felt it pull, and it felt like my knee was on fire. Something's wrong. They say if I didn't hear or feel a pop that might be a good sign, but it hurts. Like I want to scream in agony kind of hurt."

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Do you want me to turn on the light?" I asked, trying to break out of his hug. "I need to cover my film, and we can sit. Maybe you shouldn't stand up."

"No, don't leave me." He muffled a cry and backed up into the wall, wringing my heart out in the process.

The sobs he was trying to hold back were heartbreaking. Why does it feel so wrong when a man cries? It really shouldn't.

"Can I just cry with you in the dark, Devin?"

He needed the darkroom as much as I needed it. He needed it to shield himself from anyone's eyes, including mine.

"Sure. Whatever you need."

Matt let his crutches fall to the tile floor. The padded arm rests hit first with a thud before the metal clanked a few times and laid still. He picked me up slightly off my feet and sank down the wall with me in his arms. His right leg remained stick straight, and I could now feel the hard brace that covered his knee. He positioned his legs on either side of me, but I hopped over his leg and sat cross-legged facing him instead, attempting to make it less intimate. I held his hand as I let him cry for however long he needed.