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If there was one thing Trip had learned during the time they had been working together, it was that Bossa always had some sort of love to give. Whether it be home-cooked food made in excess and packed thoughtfully into take-out containers, his upbeat attitude, or his ability to find something positive even in the poorest of circumstances, Bossa was a persistent ray of sunshine.Trip still had not gone through the other man’s background documents, leaving him to wonder what Doc and Kali had meant about pre-Nighthaven infractions detailing behavioral redirecting to better mesh with team culture.
He’d chalked it up to the rigid framework common to many other special operations groups. Rainbow and Nighthaven offered a comparatively unique work culture, both organizations priding themselves on unmatched skill and independent minds. Bossa had seamlessly integrated into the team. It seemed more difficult to name someone who didn’t get along with him. It seemed impossible to imagine the overly excitable Bossa as anything but an upbeat team player.
Until now, that is. The pair walked along the outdoor track. It was far too nice outside to be cooped up indoors and the gap in both of their schedules allowed them downtime to catch up. Despite his leisurely pace, Trip found himself having to stop and wait for the shorter man to catch up.
“Too fast?”
“Nah.” Bossa didn’t make an effort to speed up to Trip’s side.
“The fact that my legs are as tall as you are probably doesn’t help with keeping pace, huh?” Where Trip expected laughter, silence lingered instead. “I mean…I’d assume that would be the case?”
“Probably.” Bossa shrugged. He cast a glance up at the taller man before continuing past him.
Trip frowned, waiting for just a moment longer before continuing.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You seem out of it.” Trip couldn’t help but notice Bossa’s slumped posture. “Are you sick?”
“No.” He grumbled.
“Sure?”
“Yes.” Bossa’s response sounded more forced this time.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
There was a clear irritation in the other man’s tone. Trip did not respond this time, opting to nod his head silently instead. They walked a few paces forward in silence, the sound of the asphalt beneath their feet.
“I appreciate you getting me those documents on time.” Trip acknowledged the look of confusion Bossa shot him. “Your reflection on my feedback from our benchmark training session the other day.” He continued. “Unrelated, but your written English is damn near indistinguishable from someone who is a native speaker. Did you really teach yourself how to do that?”
“Uh…kind of.” The strain in Bossa’s voice softened. “I spent a lot of time on the internet…playing games…reading…” He thought for a moment as if deciding on whether or not he was annoyed at the question. “There was a moment I thought I was going to go to university and decided to really lock in. But I’m here now so…that’s how that went.”
“That’s still impressive. Does your family speak English as well?”
“My younger brother yeah but that’s all.”
“Man, I keep forgetting that there’s three of you running around this world.” Trip snorted, amused. “Your poor parents. If the other two are anything like you, I can’t imagine-”
“They’re not.” Bossa snapped, stopping in his tracks.
“I’m sorry,” Trip stopped suddenly as well, his face burning with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have assumed -”
“Just…drop it, yeah?” Bossa avoided eye contact, his voice a defeated decrescendo. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“That’s okay.” Despite the heat in his cheeks, Trip sounded nonchalant.
Bossa nodded curtly and continued walking, his hands shoved into his pockets. Trip followed, this time trailing behind the wildly out-of-character version of his teammate before him. He weighed whether or not to ask what was wrong, confused as to what was bothering him. Silence hung heavy between them, the agitated tension radiating from the younger man damn near manifesting as electricity in the air.
“I’m sorry.” Bossa sighed suddenly.
“For what?” Trip matched pace, walking alongside his teammate.
“Being a dick.” Bossa grumbled.
“Don’t even worry about it.” Trip reassured, silently anxious. “I had no business talking about your family anyway.”
Bossa pursed his lips, a look of hesitation heavy on his face. Trip noticed the expression out of the corner of his eye.
“As my mentor, you keep anything I say stays between the two of us, right?”
“I mean, unless it’s training-related or a safety concern I don’t see why I’d be telling anyone your business.”
“People around here like to gossip.” Bossa eyed Trip suspiciously.
“Bud, I promise that’s the last thing I have the energy to do.” Trip said sincerely. “There’s no official paperwork stating that our business needs to stay between the two of us. But man to man, that’s just the right thing to do, don’t you think?”
“Yeah…” Bossa nodded, searching the ground beneath them for reassurance as he thought of what he wanted to say. “I got a call today.”
“Alright.” Trip tried to sound as neutral as possible, unsure where the conversation would lead.
“It was my older brother. Eduardo.” Bossa pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed as he squeezed his face into a sour expression. “He pisses me off. That’s all.”
“Oh?” Trip had only heard good things about Bossa’s brother through dramatic retellings of humorous moments from his teammates’ childhood. “Was he…being annoying?” He ventured, trying his best to connect to the foreign concept of siblinghood.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Bossa gritted his teeth, seething. “He’s always…in my business.” He kicked at a stray pebble, rolling it along the track as they walked. “Like I’m some fucking baby and he’s afraid I’m gonna choke on my own spit or something.”
“How old is he again?”
“Old enough to get over his shit and leave me alone.”
“I see.” The bitterness in Bossa’s voice was apparent. “Have you asked him to give you some space?”
An introspective look washed over Bossa’s face. He thought for a moment, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. Trip tried to ignore the feeling of uncertainty in the question he had asked.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
Bossa frowned, clearly debating on sharing more. This was the first time Trip had seen the other man so defeated.
“You have a story too, don’t you?”
“Bro what.”
“We’re not all perfect shiny people.” Trip caught a glimpse of Bossa’s puzzled face. “Or at least I’m not.”
“When you talk like this, I feel like I’m having a stroke.”
“Remember when you asked me about what was actually wrong with me because I kept ‘acting weird’ to you?”
“Yes? And it wasn’t just ‘to me’.” Bossa embellished the statement with dramatic air quotes. “You’re weird for other reasons, not just the sad ones.”
“Anyways,” Trip smiled at the hint of humor shining through Bossa’s gloominess. “Now you’re the one acting weird. So, what’s up?”
Bossa kicked at the pebble on the ground once more, sending it rocketing ahead. He watched as it flew across the asphalt, first skipping as if gliding across water, then slowing to a clumsy tumble, then to a stop. A hundred different excuses went through his mind. If not for the awkwardness of their position on the track, he would have considered leaving altogether.
“I don’t usually talk to people about this,” Bossa mused aloud. “But you’re not people. You’re like…” He scrunched up his face. “Nicholas, I swear to god if I tell you this you can’t be weird about it.”
“Hey, just relax.” Trip patted Bossa’s shoulder. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I just figured I’d give you the space.”
Bossa tensed at the feeling of the other man’s hand, which Trip retracted. He sighed, kicking the pebble as they neared its spot on the ground.
“When I was little, I was practically my big brother’s shadow. He was like, the coolest person ever to me. In my stupid baby brain, I wanted to be just like him. Which, thinking about it now…is definitely not the case.” he snickered. “I had a good childhood. I might be an amazing storyteller, but nothing I’ve told you has been a lie. I had a lot of fun and nobody was necessarily mean to me or anything but…”
He kicked at the pebble again, watching it shoot ahead in silence.
“I caused a lot of problems in school. I got picked on a lot and fought back. The teachers said I had defiance issues. I think it stressed my parents out because Eduardo was nothing like that. He got good grades and had friends and played futebol and did all the things they expected him to do.” Bossa bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about what he’d say next.“My biggest problem was being my mom’s daughter. And she wanted me to do all the things she wanted. And I didn’t want to do any of them. And Eduardo was the oldest of the three of us, caught in the middle of it all and forced to deal with everything. I think a piece of him is still bitter.”
Bossa hesitated before looking up at Trip, expecting an expression of disappointment on his face. Instead, the older man stared straight ahead, a pensive look in his eyes.
“My family and I didn’t talk for a long time. I finished school, moved out when I was seventeen, had an oh shit moment, and joined the Guarda Municipal by eighteen.” Bossa stated bluntly. “It’s better now, but every time I get a call from Eduardo he just…”
There were a lot of things he wanted to say. “...doesn’t get it.”
The pair came up on the pebble again, which Bossa kicked once again. It shot across the pavement, hitting an uneven groove in the surface and bouncing into the grass. Bossa cursed silently, peeling his eyes from the ground and staring ahead.
“Sorry. It’s all little kid stuff when I think about it. I’m not traumatized or anything, I’ve just gotta work through my stuff, you feel?” Bossa cleared his throat. “And what good is an older brother if he’s not a massive pain in the ass too. I’m sure Luiz feels the same about me. I’ll get over it.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” Trip said genuinely. “I’m sorry your mom-”
“It’s fine, really. You know how it is. Mom stuff.” Bossa butted in. “We talk now anyway. So I mean…”
Bossa trailed off as if he couldn’t decide what to say next. Trip chose not to push it, instead nodding his head.
“I’ve only got two of ‘em. I get it.”
A gentle breeze ruffled Bossa’s hair. He tucked a loose strand behind his ear.
“Thank you for listening.” He said, blowing another unruly strand from his face.“And for being normal.”
“Of course, Marcelo.” Trip smiled. “I’m always here for you.”
Bossa didn’t say anything and instead smiled gratefully back.
“Alright, kid. Another two laps make a mile if you’re feeling up for it.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” Bossa grinned. “Only if I get to race you.”
Trip laughed and shook his head, mentally accepting defeat. A competitive spirit was something he had repeatedly noted in his mentee’s training logs. Reflecting on the personal information Bossa had just divulged, it was easier to understand why.
“Sure, why not.” Trip agreed. Win or lose, he didn’t actually care. It was too beautiful of a day not to. “Let’s count down before our next lap.”