Page 8
August
Matt’s thirty-sixth birthday—and Aiden’s thirty-seventh, a few days later—snuck up on him before he realized it.
When they were younger, since the birthdays fell right before training camp started, they usually tried to make a week out of it, wherever they happened to be. They’d managed a few trips out of the country without anyone noticing. Once it had been to Amsterdam and they’d spent most of it either exploring the city or stoned out of their minds in their hotel room. Even with that particular memory, a damn good one, Aiden had never managed to top the high of skating together during the first summer they’d been together in New York: he’d gotten them private ice time, a chance to play one-on-one without interruptions or teammates or spectators.
Even though he’d peaked early, he still tried to pick out a thoughtful gift anyway. It was harder now, because while Matt was the same in many ways, in others, he was also a complete stranger. Aiden didn’t know what he liked anymore, besides hockey, although he had done some work piecing it together after spending the last few weeks living in the same close quarters.
Present-day Matt cooked more, played less video games and had a small shelf that held mostly books about hockey, but also some other topics like philosophy, for some reason, and some actual novels. Aiden didn’t know enough about modern literature, or really literature at all, to pick anything like that out.
He had plans anyway, but they were derailed when Matt said, “Oh shit, Miles and Jessica are going to be here tomorrow.”
“Seriously? You just forgot?” Aiden asked. His mouth felt dry.
“Come on, man, I wasn’t expecting you to be here when I made those plans.”
“Okay, well, I can get a hotel room or something and we can just meet up again after they go home, we can figure it out.”
“No. No, you came all the way here and I’m not... I’m not hiding you.”
Aiden rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure? I mean...it’s going to be awkward as hell. Worse than the first time you met the team. Miles hates me. He really, really hates me, and I don’t blame him.”
“He’s going to have to get used to it. At least for now.”
“Well. It’s your birthday, Matt. Whatever you want.”
“I want you there.”
Aiden exhaled. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
Beyond the brief encounter over the summer, Aiden hadn’t seen Miles Safaryan for any length of time in over ten years, even though Miles was good friends with Noah Brooks, one of the Libs who had made the team early in Aiden’s tenure there. He would have preferred to keep it that way.
He still remembered the last time they had spoken in any meaningful manner, about three months after Aiden and Matt had broken up. It was after the first Libs/Scouts game of the season and Miles cornered him in the hallway after everyone had showered and most of them were on their way home already. He’d shoved Aiden into the wall, hard enough to show he wasn’t joking, but not hard enough to really hurt.
Aiden still remembered the way Miles’ arm felt pressed against his chest, elbow digging in, so forcefully that Aiden’s ribs creaked under it. And what he’d said: a warning and a threat, to stay away from Matt. Aiden hadn’t argued, hadn’t fought back, just stared and nodded and said, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt him, over and over again, until Brooksy saw them and came over to break it up.
It wasn’t like he could even reassure himself that it would be fine. It was definitely not going to be fine. He couldn’t blame Miles for being protective, especially now that he knew what Matt had gone through after they’d broken up.
Aiden wondered whether he would have been better off if he’d tried to talk to someone about it when it happened, how his life would have been different if he hadn’t just boxed everything away and kept it with him for the next ten years, but—
“I said, they’re bringing Ellie and Theo.”
“The kids?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, well, again, I can get a hotel room.”
“ They’re getting a hotel room. I’ve got a tiny condo and they’ve got two small kids. Like I said before. I’m not hiding you. Aiden—you’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”
Aiden exhaled, remembering the way he had tried to reassure Matt the afternoon he’d met Hannah for the first time. Matt was probably about as convincing today as Aiden had been then. He thought, There are no thoughts. There is no future. He thought it, over and over again, until he had calmed down a little.
“Okay,” he said, finally, because it was easier not to argue.
On the morning of Matt’s birthday, Aiden stuck with tradition and woke him up with a blowjob. Even after all of these years, he still felt the lurch in his chest when he saw Matt’s face shift from sleep to awareness, the smile that tugged the corner of his mouth up when he realized what Aiden was doing. At the trust in it. At the way Matt buried his face in Aiden’s neck after he’d come, mouth pressed against Aiden’s pulse, and Aiden had moved up to hold him close.
After Aiden finished cleaning himself up and while Matt was in the shower, he went into the kitchen to make breakfast. It was just pancakes, albeit fancy pancakes with the buckwheat flour he found in Matt’s pantry and some strawberries he cut up and tossed in sugar so they started to break down a little.
Matt’s face softened almost imperceptibly when he walked out of the bedroom and found Aiden flipping them in the pan. He came up behind Aiden and slid his arms around Aiden’s waist. His mouth was warm, breath humid against Aiden’s shoulder. “You know, you were making me pancakes when I first realized I was in love in love with you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Matt said, looking around Aiden’s arm at the stack of pancakes on the plate. “It was that first summer when I came out to visit you in Winnipeg, and you were flipping them shirtless just like this in that shitty apartment we had, and I asked you if you finally learned how to make a new breakfast, and you said someone had to feed me and you were taking one for the team and I just... I just knew. Now that was a mortifying way to figure it out, huh?”
“I dunno about that,” Aiden said. He flipped the last pancake onto the top of the stack. “I’m a pretty great cook, so I understand the impulse.”
Matt groaned, and half-heartedly headbutted him in the shoulder. “So that’s what, like six dishes you can make now?”
It devolved into a mock fight that ended in heated kisses on the kitchen floor, Aiden sticking the tip of his tongue into the space between Matt’s teeth, just to tease a reaction out of him, but they both sobered rapidly when Matt’s phone buzzed.
Matt took his hand away from Aiden’s throat, hitched his hips up so he could pull it out of his pocket without rolling off of Aiden, who was still on his back, shirt rucked up and exposed skin cold against the tile, watching while Matt answered the call.
“Oh, you’re downstairs? Okay, let me come down and let you in.” He hung up, looked down at Aiden. His hand cupped Aiden’s cheek. “Hey, they’re here.”
Aiden had spent years working on controlling his emotions and anxiety, practicing meditation and mindfulness and breathing exercises. It was difficult to manage in situations like this, even with practice, even with breathing exercises. It was one thing to get into the crease in front of a stadium full of twenty thousand people, of fans from opposing teams who hated the insignia on his sweater. Another thing entirely to face one family who had every reason to hate him personally.
He made himself smile, and said, “Okay.”
“Thank you,” Matt said, very seriously. He looked down at Aiden with the same kind of intensity in his voice. “I know it’s not going to be...fun.”
“Yeah, well. It’s your birthday, so.”
Matt leaned forward and kissed him, quickly, affectionately, before he slid off of Aiden’s hips and stood. “All right. Let me get them before he starts texting me about how old and slow I am.”
Miles Safaryan looked exactly the same as Aiden remembered him, except, if possible, even more pissed off than he usually did. He looked like Matt, but a little skewed: the same dark eyes and thick eyelashes, the same prominent nose and sharp features, a thinner face; taller and slimmer. Where Matt’s face had always seemed inherently kind, Miles looked like an angry hawk.
Miles’ wife and children were new to Aiden, though. The kids came barreling through the door, pushing past their parents to throw themselves at Matt. He immediately crouched down to their level.
“Uncle Matt!” the little girl shrieked, as Matt gathered both of them into a hug.
Miles and his wife both looked at Aiden. Dr. Jessica Zhang cut a striking figure: beautiful, slim and almost as tall as Miles. Her long black hair was pulled back severely from her face. She wore a loose gray linen jumpsuit, a nondescript outfit that nevertheless looked like she had just stepped off a runway. Maybe that was because she had the kind of vibe that would be intimidating, if it weren’t for the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and the crinkle at the corner of her eye when Miles introduced her.
Miles sounded like he was in the process of scraping a piece of dog shit from the bottom of his shoe. “Jess, this is Aiden Campbell.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Jessica said, like a completely normal person, and held out her hand to Aiden, who shook it. She had a firm, strong handshake and looked him directly in the eye. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Aiden could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck as she kept smiling at him, steady and bland. “I’m, uh, I’m sure you have.”
Matt stood up, holding one child in each arm, although they were both technically too big for that and it was only Matt’s size and strength that made it possible. They shrieked with joy—apparently, this was a habit for them. Matt was smiling, too, unguardedly happy in a way that he only looked around Aiden lately when they were in bed together. “It’s really good to see you guys. How was the flight?”
“It was fine,” Miles said, steadfastly ignoring Aiden now that he had done his duty and introduced him. The kids were busy grabbing Matt’s hair and pulling it, talking over each other in their eagerness to tell Matt exactly how the flight had gone. “Theo was getting a little antsy toward the end, but we survived without any major meltdowns.”
“Here, come in,” Matt said, “you guys can use the bathroom and the kids can calm down a little before we head out.”
They made awkward small talk while Ellie and Theo tore around the kitchen until Matt opened the cabinets and gave of them a bag of cookies to share. Once they’d gotten what they wanted, they huddled in the corner, arguing over the fact that there was an odd number in there and Ellie thought she deserved more, because she was older.
Miles cornered Matt at the far end of the apartment, talking to him in a low voice and making some emphatic gestures while he did. Aiden sighed, watching them.
“He’s very protective of Matthew,” Jessica said, from a few inches behind Aiden, startling the shit out of him.
Once he got his heartbeat back under control, he said, “I know. I don’t blame him for it.”
“Of course not. But, you know, if you’re going to be sticking around for a while, do you want my advice?”
Aiden had the feeling that his answer wouldn’t make a difference either way, so he lied, “Yes, I’d appreciate it.”
“Don’t let Miles walk all over you, yeah? Because if you let him, he will.”
“I—”
“Just think about it.” Jessica had a way of talking, precise and pointedly cheerful, that reminded him a little of Hannah. It was just as terrifying on her, especially when she smiled. “Ten years is a long time to grow up, Aiden. And I’m sure you have. Miles needs to move on, too.”
“What kind of medicine do you practice again?”
“Oh, me? Ortho.” She smiled at him again, all teeth. “Comes in handy when Miles needs a second opinion.”
Miles looked up from his discussion with Matt. “What are you two talking about?”
“Just getting to know Aiden, honey.”
“We’re, um, ready to head out, I think,” Matt said, sounding more hopeful than sure, and Aiden had never been so thankful to leave a room in his life.
Later that morning, in the Contemporary Art gallery of the MMFA, Ellie announced, “My dad says you’re a bad person.”
Ellie was almost six years old, tall for her age, with Coke-bottle glasses, a black eye and a line of stitches parallel to her lower lip. She wore a custom Scouts jersey that said SAFARYAN-ZHANG on the back—the letters barely fit between her tiny shoulders—and it shouldn’t have been as cute as it was.
“He does think that,” Aiden agreed.
“You don’t seem that bad to me.”
“I’ve been on my best behavior today.”
That seemed to please her. She smiled, revealing her missing front teeth. Aiden was reminded, briefly, of some of his former teammates. “I’m on my best behavior, too. Mom said I’m not allowed to fight with Theo. Or anyone else.”
They walked slowly, a little behind the rest of the group. Miles didn’t seem to have noticed that Aiden and Ellie were back there, otherwise occupied talking to Matt and Theo, who was crying because he wasn’t allowed to eat in the gallery.
“Do you get in a lot of fights?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, like it was completely obvious. “I play on a boys’ team. Even with Bee Morin, some of them are jerks about me being there.”
Aiden thought about his own mites teams, and said, “You know, that’s fair.”
“I won the last one,” Ellie said, with immense satisfaction.
“Is that where—”
“The eye, yeah. But the stitches are ’cause I tried to go down the stairs in a cardboard box and my teeth went through my skin .”
Aiden managed to bite back a startled laugh at the mental image, because he had the distinct impression that Ellie wasn’t the kind of kid who appreciated being laughed at. “Why were you going down the stairs in a cardboard box?”
“I want to be a goalie, so I was working on balance. But it didn’t work.”
“Yeah, ah, there are maybe some safer ways to do that.”
“You were a goalie,” Ellie said, looking at him sidelong, with the kind of obvious cunning that only small children could manage. “You should tell me some things about being a goalie.”
“You mean to work on balance, right?”
“Yeah,” Ellie said, her arms crossed over her chest like she wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her after all. “What about it?”
They walked past some truly spectacular examples of modern art, the kinds of things that Aiden and Matt would have had private jokes about if they’d been alone. Aiden wasn’t looking at any of it, attention absorbed by his small, intense private audience.
“Well, there are a few you can do without any equipment at all. A simple one is, you can kind of do a half-squat, like this—” he demonstrated, briefly “—with your arms extended like that, and have someone tap and push on various parts of your body without letting them move you at all, and you can do that same exercise, with a lower and more staggered stance, like this—”
“ Eleanor Safaryan-Zhang, ” Jessica called over her shoulder, “what did we say about bothering Dad and Uncle Matt’s friends about hockey?”
“Not outside the home and not in places you can’t normally play hockey.” A mulish frown twisted Ellie’s mouth. “But he wanted to help me, Mom.” She glanced sideways at Aiden and whispered, “Okay, but will you? I wanna be the best, and if you have Cups, you must be pretty good.”
Aiden said, “Yes, of course.”
Ellie flashed her tooth gap at him again. “I’m going to be your best student.”
“You’re going to be the only student,” Aiden said, thinking about the long stretch of hours during the day where he had nothing to do except arbitrarily created tasks.
Ellie just beamed, and then looked up and frowned, like she was seeing the paintings for the very first time. “Wow, this art is so bad.”
“You know, your uncle and I used to think stuff like that, but it’s actually just a matter of perspective...”
The stretch of birthdays that Matt had experienced over the last decade were mostly unremarkable, blending together in a long, lonely stretch. They had even been pretty lonely when Emily was around to host the parties, which mostly teammates attended. There had been a few years after player assistance when he had been completely sober, and the gatherings had been awkward and stiff, no one quite knowing how to treat him, whether they were allowed to drink, too.
Those were the worst kinds of parties, and this birthday had the same exact feeling. Everyone was on edge except for Jess, who was never on edge anywhere, no matter how tense the atmosphere was. That probably was a side effect of being an orthopedic trauma surgeon, but Matt didn’t have the benefit of years of working under crisis conditions.
He felt like at any minute he was going to have to lunge sideways and separate Miles and Aiden. Miles was usually a pretty chill guy, on and off of the ice, but he did have his protective instincts. And he was watching Aiden like a hawk, just waiting for him to step out of line, so he could swoop in and bite his head off.
Instead, Miles cornered Matt in the MMFA while Aiden was busy talking to Ellie. “I’m serious, Matthew, what the hell are you doing?”
“I told you this morning,” Matt said patiently. “Aiden’s recently retired, he was having a hard time, and we both agreed that it would be good for him to get out of New York for a little bit.”
“I meant about you .”
“Miles,” Matt said, surprised by the flicker of anger that lanced through him, tamped down again. It wasn’t fair to get upset with Miles: Matt knew what he’d put the family through. No one had ever let him forget it. “I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. I’m not the same kid I was back then. I’m not—”
“But you don’t know ,” Miles was saying urgently. “Campbell’s...he’s unreliable, Matt. He’s just going to chew you up and spit you out again, like he did the last time, and then we’re all going to have to pick up the pieces and—”
“Hey,” Matt said, surprised by how loud his voice sounded in the echoing halls of the gallery. Everyone turned to look at him, and he smiled awkwardly and turned back to Miles. He lowered his voice. “Listen to me, Miles. I know how you feel. I understand why you feel that way. But it doesn’t matter. Don’t talk about him like that. Not to me. We were both young and stupid back then, and I—I had a really hard time accepting that things were over. But this is different.”