change-room door, sixteen

I said it. Actually said it this morning at the sink with the tap running and Carly behind me holding the Manila envelope. Yeah. I cried. Behind the change-room door at the AIS. No one saw. And before the word was even dry I told her she couldn't put it in the article, which is how I knew it cost me something. If it was nothing I wouldn't have pulled it back.

That's the first time I've said it out loud to anyone. Sixteen years old in a change-room cubicle, a doctor on the other side of the curtain who had already made up his mind before he opened it, and I cried the way you cry when no one is supposed to know. I've been carrying that behind a locked door in my head since I was sixteen and this morning I just handed it over. Because the tap was on. Because Carly asked in a way that wasn't fishing for drama. I don't know.

Brayden swung first. Closed fist into the pad, knuckle split across the glove. I had him at the roller door in two seconds and didn't throw. That's new. A different man than last year's version of me. I want to write that down because tomorrow I might not believe it.

The quote is due Monday. I told her I'd write something honest if the card is bad. The card is always bad, I've known that since sixteen. So now I'm going to write something honest about the worst day of my life for an alumni newsletter and the thing I said at the sink is exactly the thing they don't want and exactly the thing I can't stop thinking about putting in.