Wrestling Against Myself (46 page)

“I'd like that. I'll ask my parents, but I'm sure they'll be glad to get me out of the house.”

“Cool,” Tony said as a Sedan pulled into the driveway.

“That's my daddy,” Courtney informed as she stood up.

“Nice wheels. I thought he would be driving a station wagon.”

“My dad wouldn't be caught dead in one. He wants a Corvette, but Mom won't let him get one.”

“Smart woman.”

The car came to a halt and the door opened up. A lanky gentleman about forty years old got out of the vehicle. His salt and pepper hair was cut short and looked professional and though it was obvious he wore the suit all day, the pants and dress shirt still looked pressed.

“There's my girl,” the man said joyfully as Courtney ran to him and gave him a hug.

“Hi daddy, this is Antonio.”

“Antonio? I thought you were bringing Tiny home?”

Antonio stood a step away from father and daughter. “I've been called that as well.”

“I know. I was teasing my little girl here. So you're the famous Mr. Tiny,” the man extended his hand toward the
teenage boy.

“I guess so,” Antonio said as he gripped the man's hand. The handshake was firm, and Antonio matched the strength of the grip. Then Mr. Barnes squeezed harder. Before Antonio knew it, he was in some sort of battle to see who could squeeze the others hand harder.

“You got me,” Mr. Barnes said as he released his grip. “Can tell why you're a wrestler.”

“It's the age old question, sir: What came first the wrestler or the grip?”

“Well said,” Mr. Barnes put his arm around the slightly shorter teen's shoulder. “Being a former athlete myself, I know how much you must love competition.”

“I never mind testing myself against another, if it's a fair duel.”

“Rightly so.” Mr. Barnes gave Antonio a firm pat on the back between the shoulders.

“You're not going to box him, are you daddy?” Courtney said in a whine.

“No sweetie, Daddy doesn't feel like getting his nose broken tonight,” Mr. Barnes said as he removed his arm from around the wrestler and faced his daughter. “But sometimes the best way to get to know a man is through competition, wouldn't you agree Mr. Tiny.”

Tony shrugged; at least boxing was taken off the table. “I suppose so.”

“See. It's one of those guy things that girls don't understand.”

“But he's dressed nice,” Courtney continued whining. “Antonio doesn't want to get sweaty.”

“Relax, Sweet Pea. I thought me and Mr. Tiny could shoot some hoops. If that's okay with him.”

“I have no problems. Besides, I thought you liked seeing me sweat, Courtney.”

Mr. Barnes shot his daughter a look.

Courtney turned red with embarrassment.

“At least you got good taste in men,” Mr. Barnes said to his daughter. “Come on, let's go shoot some hoops.”

“Lead the way,” Antonio said as he wondered if he should be getting his good dress shirt dirty.

“I'll keep score,” Courtney announced.

“I think your mother would appreciate help in the kitchen,” Mr. Barnes said gave a nod to his daughter.

Courtney pouted. “Oh, okay,” she said glumly.

Tony and Mr. Barnes watched Courtney retreat into the house.

“Women!” Mr. Barnes said. “They never get the hint when guys want to be alone.”

“I guess not.” Tony was awed at how readily the man accepted Courtney as his daughter. The teen assumed there would be some friction in the relationship, but Mr. Barnes didn't show it. He followed the man to the back yard where a basketball goalpost was set up.

Mr. Barnes found a basketball by the fence and tossed it solidly toward Tony.

Antonio caught the ball without a problem, but wondered if the handshake competition entered a new phase. Was this a father judging a boy who was around his daughter, Tony wondered, or was there something more?

“Too be fair, basketball isn't my sport,” Tony said as he dribbled the ball against the concrete.

“I guess you'll be at a disadvantage.”

“Do you want to play one on one or something?”

“Nah,” Mr. Barnes smiled. “Let's just shoot around for fun. Playground rules; you make a shot, you get the ball back. I just this would be a good way for us to get to know each other without the women folk around.”

“That's good. If we did one on one I would have to ask for wrestler's rules to apply.”

“Wrestler's rules, I never heard of that one.”

“Since wrestlers stink at basketball, we have different scoring; two points for hitting the backboard, three points for hitting the rim, and five points if it goes in.”

“Must make for a quick game to twenty-one,” Mr. Barnes said.

“You'd be surprised,” Tony said as he took a shot that clanked off the front of the rim. “Games could last for hours. We'd never finish if we had to make real baskets.''

Mr. Barnes dribbled a fair distance away from the basket and took a shot. “I could see that,” he said as the shot went in. “You use different muscles for wrestling and a lot of basketball is muscle memory.”

“Tony tossed the ball back to the man. “In wrestling we don't extend our arms or our bodies that much, we like to be compact and strike like a cobra.”

“A cobra, you say.” Mr. Barnes took another shot, banking it off the backboard and through the hoop. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Only on the mat, sir.”

“Good answer. My wife texted me that you're aware of Courtney's situation.”

“Courtney told me a few weeks ago.”

“And you didn't run for the hills.” The shot Mr. Barnes took barely missed.

“I didn't see a need to.”

“A lot of guys would have a problem with it. From what I hear, a lot already do.”

“I'm not a lot of guys,” Tony said as he made a free throw.

“Good shot!” Mr. Barnes returned the ball to Tony. “I can tell you're not like a lot of guys. We were banking on it when we let Courtney go to Dunedin. We never imagined that you two would become friends.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Tony said as he made a consecutive free throw.

“Yeah, but the most popular boy in school becoming friends with the outcast has to be in the top ten.”

“I don't view her as an outcast.” Tony got the ball back and dribbled to another spot on the concrete. “She's another person with issues. We all have issues.”

“Even you?” Mr. Barnes asked with a raised eyebrow and then took off to chase down an errant shot.

“Even me. I'm a performance junkie, got to be the best at everything I do. Some find it admirable.”

“I do,” Mr. Barnes interjected.

“But it gets to be exhausting. Courtney is another person trying to get by in the world. Can't fault her for that.”

“No, you can't.”

“You don't seem to have a problem with her condition.”

“Condition, huh? I guess that's one way to put it,” Mr. Barnes said as he lined up a shot. “I suppose some would think I was a failure as a father.” He let the ball fly and watched it sail over the backboard. “It's not every man who lets his son become his daughter, I've heard of some who are real jerks, even abusive; criminally so.”

“I could see some fathers becoming abusive or distant to their kids, but that's not you,” Tony said as he let the ball land in the grass and roll to a stop before retrieving it.

“At first I felt I was a failure as a father. I asked myself what I did wrong, what didn't I do right. Did I not roughhouse enough when she was little, did I not encourage her in sports, should I have bought more army men?”

Tony laughed nervously. “I can see fathers not understanding. I don't understand. I've tried to put myself in her position, but I can't.”

“I wouldn't stress over it. The more I learned about her and what she's going through; I figured that there wasn't anything anyone could have done differently. She is who she is; flaws and perfections alike. I had to accept that despite physical evidence to the contrary, I have a daughter. It wasn't easy at first, at times it's still hard to wrap my brain around it, but family life has never been better since I came to that realization.”

“She is happy around you,” Tony said as he took another shot.

“And I'm happy around her.”

“I'm sure you miss this part of having a son.” Tony watched the ball rattle around the rim and fall through the hoop.

“Courtney shoots hoops with me. It's one of the ways we bond as father and daughter.”

“Oh?” Tony was surprised. “I didn't think she did stuff like this.”

“You mean boy things.”

“I guess,” Antonio said sheepishly.

“It's not the same as the way you and I are going about it. You can tell she is all girl, and not because she has a bad shot. You should see how giddy she gets when she scores a basket. You and I go about it like it's natural, we expect the ball to go in. With her, it's like she's won the NBA finals every time she sinks one. If you had any doubt about her being a girl, you should shoot hoops with her sometime.”

“I don't have any doubts at all.”

“And that's what makes you unique, Tiny.”

The weekend didn't last long and Tony found himself wishing he invited Courtney over to his house one of the two days. He wondered why he hadn't.

“Did I think my mom might be judgmental?” he asked himself as he drove to school. “She already knows the situation and didn't say anything bad about it, but sometimes things are different when you are face to face then when you just hear about things. I don't think she'd have a problem, but she didn't seem thrilled about Courtney being a girl either. She seemed lukewarm about the whole deal.”

Antonio turned the volume up on his car stereo. He was tired of thinking, of over analyzing every little aspect. He tried to figure out why Courtney was a girl in a boy's body for hours as he lounged in the swimming pool and hadn't come across any reasonable explanation. In the end he would have to accept that some things were beyond him understanding why. He didn't like it, but there was nothing he could do. “Courtney probably doesn't even know why herself,” he said as he drummed on the steering wheel.

“When Mom meets Courtney she's going to think I made the whole thing up,” Tony told himself with a laugh. “She's going to see Courtney and think I'm horrible for making up such terrible stories. Then again, maybe my mom will see some evidence that there is a boy under the long hair and the dress. She would know better than me, because I can't see it.”

Tony pulled into the student parking lot. There were a few cars already parked there and some students milling around. Antonio pulled into his usual parking spot. John Sharp was waiting for him.

“You're here early,” Tony said as he got out of the car with his books for the first few periods. “I thought you liked to be fashionably late to school.”

“That was last year, Tiny. My dad said if I got any tardies he would take it out of my hind end. Look at me Tiny,” John turned around. “I ain't got anything there to lose.”