Cole
I pound three of my dad’s beers after practice. He’s passed out on the couch already, his beer gut hanging under his t-shirt and above his gym shorts.
I take a fourth upstairs to my bedroom where I collapse on my back on my bed.
Maybe I’ll drink myself to death along with my dad. Funny how I was working so hard to keep s**t together, to keep food on the table, maintain a C average so I can play football, keep my dad from combusting.
Suddenly none of it matters.
School, football team, pack, family. I could give a f**k.
Meaningless.
All that effort I made to fit some role I prescribed for myself. Alpha-hole without a cause. Football star. Jerry’s son. Casey’s brother.
I didn’t even do a good job at any of those roles, but they drove me. Kept me in a lane I didn’t even like.
And
