Page 44 of Sportsball is for Lovers

His apartment is only a few stops away on the T. Inside, Elliott is at the stove, stirring something that smells delicious.

“Hey, Jared,” Elliott says. “Good to see you.”

“You, too.” I let them pull me in for a hug. “It’s been a while.”

Elliott gives me a small smile. “Well, we’re fixing that now. How’re you holding up?”

My heavy sigh seems to be answer enough, because their smile drops and they nod.

“Yeah. I get that.”

Elliott and I are more alike than I am to my brother half the time. El identifies themselves by the work they do, much like I do—did. Whereas Yoni is happy with his assistant role and has other ways to find fulfillment in his life, El and I don’t operate that way.

“I made potato leek soup and I just put the chicken in the oven,” Elliott comments. “The sheets are changed in the spare room. You can stay as long as you need to.”

A lump forms in my throat. El uses the room primarily as their office on the days they don’t go into the lab.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” I promise.

Elliott squeezes my shoulder. “Okay. Soon can be relative. We’re not rushing you.”

“Why don’t you get settled,” Yoni says softly. “Take some time to process.”

Following him to the spare room, I deposit my suitcases and crash onto the bed. I’m mentally and physically exhausted.

Everything hurts. It’s more than a physical ache—it’s existential, too. What am I going to do next? I can’t stay in my little brother’s spare room forever.