Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

Campbell

Thanksgiving weekend had been enlightening on a number of levels. I’d arrived at my family’s farm on Wednesday evening to a low-key celebration.

“I know how superstitious you hockey players are. We are not celebrating your future. We are simply celebrating the hard work and determination that sent a Buffalo Blizzard scout to watch my baby play.” Mom may have started to choke up a little there at the end.

I was welcomed home with a group hug and a feast for dinner. My family went to bed early since there were always chores to be done at sunrise, but I couldn’t sleep and found myself downstairs snacking on leftovers of all my favorite foods.

My father showed up a few minutes after me. He eyed my plate of meat and veggies as well as the detritus of mashed potatoes, which I had eaten first, and without saying a word, he walked around our large, wooden country-kitchen table and visited the refrigerator.

“Finish up second dinner so we can start on second dessert,” he said as he put a pie plate in front of me.

I’d been staring at my text chain with Josh, trying to decide what message it would send if I wished him a happy Thanksgiving. I subtly turned my phone over as my dad fished out two clean forks before climbing onto the bench next to me.

Josh had stayed over at the Hockey House the night of my big win, the night that Denny Maltby had come to talk to me. That night was important for both of those things, but it was also the night that I knew my feelings for Josh would overwhelm me. I didn’t think I could ever see him, whether secreted behind a closed door, or in the middle of a party, or in the middle of a lecture on sports journalism, without him, and the world, knowing how I felt.

I didn’t want the world to know, but I didn’t want Josh to know either. It wasn’t fair to him. I had agreed to a causal relationship. Josh didn’t need my heart eyes and feelings messing up his hookup. He was already compromising by being with me more than once.

So over second dinner, I finally decided I would tell Josh I was freaking out over getting caught, that sneaking him out of my room was way too risky, and that I couldn’t be with him anymore. Would it break my heart? I was fairly sure it already had, but it was the right thing to do, the fair thing to do for Josh.

Only, I hadn’t brought myself to do it before the holiday, ignoring him instead, deciding on my own that we would get through the end of the semester, get through our project, then part ways. I didn’t have to have sex with him again; I wouldn’t.

It was the perfect plan: I could say goodbye to him and get on with my life. No distractions.

The only problem with that was that I had been nothing but distracted the entire week. We hadn’t had another game before Thanksgiving, but I was shit at practice each and every day leading up to the holiday. My teammates, our friends, and the coaching staff all thought I was choking over the visit from the Blizzard’s assistant coach, but I knew better. I was fucking distracted by my feelings for Joshua Marchetti-Gordon.

I shoveled in a few more bites, then dad slid the pie closer to me, handing me a fork.

“Right out of the pie plate? Mom’s gonna kill us.”

My dad just shrugged around a mouthful of strawberry rhubarb, a devilish smile on his face and a gleam in his eye.

“It’s Thanksgiving, and her baby’s home. There are two more pies in there for tomorrow. Oh, and the batter for her famous sour cream pancakes. She’s not going to notice if the rhubarb is a little mangled.”

“Yes, she is,” I countered.

“Yes she is.” We laughed.

“That was some game the other night, kiddo.”

“You listened?”

“We watched! Sports News Now! III played it since the opposing team is the defending champ. But all anyone was talking about after the game was you, kiddo.” It was Dad’s turn to start choking up.

“You know when you were little, you were so free on the ice. I could tell, even under those layers of padding that weighed as much as you did that first year, I could tell how much you loved it by the way you glided when you played. And when you settled on being a goalie? You had—you have this intensity about you, but I could always see that little boy floating on the ice; he was still there too. That’s how I knew you loved it. That’s how I knew all the hard work and all the pressure you were under, that you put yourself under, were worth it. Because I knew you loved the game. That that's why you played.” He poked a finger in my shoulder both of the times he said that.

“When you got older, I worried you were playing for the wrong reasons. The wrong reason, really.” Dad looked pointedly at me, to emphasize the obvious. “For the money.” I held his gaze. Helping my family had always been one of my goals. I may have been too young to understand what a second mortgage was back when my parents took one out to perform renovations around the farm, but I knew that if I could pay my parents off, it would be a huge weight off their shoulders. Off all our shoulders.

“I want us all to have that feeling of floating on the ice, Dad. That feeling of freedom. And if we can turn this place around, if you can focus on organic farming and not whether or not we’re going to lose everything, then you can float too.”

My dad sighed and took another bite before continuing. “Son, you have the biggest heart, and I know you want to help, but somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing it. I stopped seeing the joy on the ice, the freedom, the love.”

“Dad …”

“Let me finish, kiddo. I stopped seeing it until this year. We came to that early game, and there he was, my happy, free little boy. I listen to the games and know you're having an amazing season. I see the highlights online, and I know the man standing in front of that goal. I know he’s my son. And, my God, Cam, you were floating, flying in that game last week. I think about Coach Beckett from high school. He pushed you so hard and taught you practical skills. But it was like you were getting better at hockey and losing yourself at the same time.

“You’ve found yourself again, kiddo. Love of the game? You’ve always had that. Drive? Determination? Check and check. But you’ve got your passion back, son, and that’s why you're having an amazing season, and that’s why you had a record-breaking game last week, and that’s why the Buffalo Blizzard are going to scoop you up before someone else comes knocking.”

My knuckles rapping on our wooden table was an automatic response.

“So, care to tell me what’s changed?”

I shoveled one bite of pie in my face and then another, trying to decide what to tell my dad. With one glaring exception, I’d always been fairly honest with my parents. I realized in that moment how foolish I was to think that if I stayed in the closet, my being gay wouldn’t matter.

In some ways, it felt like it hit me right then and there like a bolt of lightning as I picked over a rhubarb pie, but in other ways I knew I had been unwittingly building up to this moment from the day I twisted my ankle.

Dad was right; my being gay, my being allowed to be gay was the thing that mattered because hiding it had been the true distraction. Being someone I wasn’t had been exhausting work. Being myself was what would allow me to truly soar.

I led with, “I think we’re gonna need a PR person, and a lawyer.”

“We’ll work it out, son. They work on commission, and if we need to find some money up front, we will.”

We ate pie quietly for what felt like forever. The words were simple. It was a short sentence, but it took a long time for me to get it out. I thought about Josh, out and proud and free. And then I thought about what my dad had said, about a kid too young to have worries while he raced around the ice. That kid deserved to be free too.

“Dad, I’m gay.” He set his fork down, the words coming, I think, as a surprise.

“Oh.”

I was in a rush to get it all out after that hard part was done. “I get that it's not the Dark Ages anymore, but I don’t think I can come out. At my school, people just are who they are. They date who they want to date. And I wish that could be me, but I don’t see how that’s possible. I want the NHL more. And I’m not … I mean … I don’t see myself as some activist or trailblazer. That’s not who I am. I wish I could just be me, and that would be that. But I’m not naive. If I make it”—I knocked wood again—“There’s no way me being gay wouldn’t be a thing.”

I had started out strong but ended with soft disappointment in my tone. I thought about Josh. At least his being a player meant that I didn’t have to worry about having a relationship, no matter how much I wanted one.

“I think … I mean … I’ll be too busy to date, or whatever. So it’s not really an issue.” We sat in silence, me staring back down at the pie, Dad staring at me. “I don’t want to be out.” I tried to sound sure, but I could hear unnaturalness in my tone. With actual confident honesty, I concluded, “I just wanted you to know.”

My father put his hand over mine and squeezed tight. “Don’t give up on finding love, Campbell.”

Of all the things I’d said, he’d focused on the part about my not dating. “We pay attention to the NHL around here, kiddo. Hockey players certainly find time to date and marry and have families. Don’t dismiss that, son. Don’t you dare think you can’t have that, because you’re gay or for whatever reason. You can have a job, even that job, and a life as well.” My dad was getting a little worked up, and I loved him for it.

“Dad.”

“No. Listen to me, son. You think you’re going to be so busy but look at you now! Getting good grades, helping out around here, working at the rec center, and delivering pizzas all summer. Do you know what your job is going to be in the NHL?”

I interrupted my dad to rap my knuckles on our wooden tabletop again. “ Might be. What my job might be if I were to possibly, maybe make it to the NHL.” I looked at him pointedly, and he rolled his eyes but knocked on the table at the same time.

“Your job is going to be to play hockey! That’s it. And I know that’s a lot, but compared to what you’re doing now? It will be …” I glared at him.

He tapped both of his fists on the table. “It might, maybe, sort of, if the heavens light up and the moon is in the seventh house, leave you with a little free time.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“That’s because you’re too superstitious to think of it at all! I guess I get the ‘staying in the closet part.’ I hate it, but I get it. But just because that door needs to be closed on your public life doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have a private life. I know you think you’ll lose your focus, but that little boy, flying around the ice like hockey was coded in his genes? He deserves to find love.

“So, I ask again? What’s changed, kiddo?”

Dad and I talked some more before getting a few hours of sleep.

Way too early the next morning, we all converged in the kitchen for a quick breakfast before heading out to morning chores. My mom opened the refrigerator.

“What happened to this pie?”

My dad came up behind her and kissed the back of her neck as she stood up straight, holding it.

“It was really good, honey. Cam and I couldn’t resist.”

“We were talking, Mom,” I said, taking the pie from her. Dad grabbed it from me and divided the remainder into five pieces. I pulled plates from the cabinet and put them on the table.

My brothers took their seats while Dad scooped out pie. Mom stood, looking a little dumbfounded, in front of the refrigerator.

“Sit, Mom. I’ll get the coffee.”

“Okay?” It was more a question about my behavior than an affirmation that she was agreeing to sit, though she did that as well.

I handed Mom her doctored cup of coffee, and Dad passed me a piece of pie, which I placed in front of her as he slid two to the boys.

“Mom, Chase, Danny.” Dad put a hand on my shoulder and a piece of pie on the table in front of me. I sank down on the bench and came out once again. And then we ate pie for breakfast, helped with morning chores, and spent our day preparing Thanksgiving dinner.

Josh and I had started texting again, and I knew it was dangerous for me to open myself up to him, but I was so excited to tell him about my day at the farm that the rest of it just sounded like noise.

My dad had said to keep an open mind and an open heart, and I thought about the Josh I knew. He’d told me he was a player, but he’d also told me he hadn’t hooked up with anyone since we met. He hadn’t said those two things like they were related, but if I was going to heed my dad’s advice, the least I could do was keep an open mind.

I was excited to see him at the Delta Tau party and had spent my day trying to figure out how to get him alone. When the guys and I got there, I looked everywhere for him and was about to text him when the door opened, and a group of people walked in, led by two guys and a girl, followed by Josh, who was arm in arm with a man who appeared older than us. The guy kept his head down, a skull cap pulled low over his ears. Josh hung on the guy as the group beelined for the kitchen. I took a step back, deeper into the game room where we had congregated, hoping not to be seen.

My heart hammered at seeing Josh with someone else, but I convinced myself there must be a logical explanation. I tried hard to think that as I excused myself from our group and headed to the kitchen. I could tell that Noah had seen Josh and knew exactly where I was going.

“Logical explanation,” I muttered to myself as I approached the archway entry to the kitchen, whereupon I froze in the entrance as Josh leaned in from behind and whispered in the guy’s ear. The guy nodded in return and smiled softly at him. I wanted to run, but it took a few beats for my mind to receive the message. I turned around and thought about simply leaving the party, but after the amount of shit I’d taken for going up to my room early on the night of my big win, I knew I had to hang out for a little while.

“Cam!”

He’d yelled it so loudly I felt like the party stopped around me to stare. It wasn’t true, though. The party was loud, full of pulsing music, laughter, and chatter. I was the only one frozen.

I pretended I didn’t hear him, but Noah found him on his way to the kitchen, and before long, a very drunk Josh and his roommate were making awkward conversation with Noah and me. Noah eventually took the roommate away for more drinks, but Josh was pretty out of it. He actually mooed at me at one point when asking about the farm.

And I wasn’t much better, my anger growing the more I thought about it. Much as I had no right since I was the one who had pulled away from him before the holiday, I was angry at him for being there with another guy, and I was also angry at him for leaving the other guy to come talk to me. That wasn’t the Josh I thought I knew. So that made me angry at myself for liking a guy who could be such a complete asshole. None of it made sense.

I tried to steer clear of Josh, avoiding him as much as possible, afraid as much of my anger and confusion as of his drunken state. It seemed very likely one of us would show a passion that would spill our secret.

Devon eventually got Josh out of there, and soon after, Noah looked at me knowingly and asked if I’d walk home with him because he thought he might have had one too many. I knew it was bullshit, but we made our escape from the party shortly after Josh and Devon had left.

“Guy from the party seemed a little out of it tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what that’s about?”

My instinct was to say something like, No, why should I? , but then I remembered what I’d told my parents about wishing I could just be me.

I took a deep breath. “We’ve been hooking up.”

“Aw, shit. I owe Diane twenty bucks.” He shouldered me, an enticement to continue. Just like that, I had come out to someone else.

“It was supposed to be just hooking up. But I may have panicked last week and low-key ghosted him. And he walked in with that hot guy tonight. Which shouldn’t matter, because we were just fooling around, and because I haven’t seen him since our last game, but as it turns out, it really fucking matters to me.”

“Wow, Cam, you really care about him, don’t you? But what hot guy are you talking about? The roommate? It didn’t seem like they were together.”

“No, not him. Didn’t you see that guy he walked in with? With the hat?”

“Cam, unlike you, not everyone clocks that man’s movements every time he walks into a room. Oh, okay, I see it now. How did I not know you two were together?”

“Not together, hooking up. It doesn’t matter now anyway. He’s with some other guy.”

“From what I saw, he was with you most of the night. He was drunk and stupid, but he wasn’t with some other guy. Just the roommate, but he wasn’t wearing a hat.”

“No! There was another guy, and Josh just left him to talk to me. What kind of asshole does that?”

“One who wanted to spend his night with you!”

“Oh.”

“Maybe you should talk to him.”

I muttered the next thing I said. “Yeah, maybe I should.” I pulled my phone out but decided that Josh was way too drunk for us to have a conversation that night.

After practice the next morning, though, texting Josh was the first thing I did.

Finn: Who is he?

Shelley: I was really drunk last night.

Finn: That’s not an answer.

The dots appeared and disappeared, and a little while later, Josh finally responded.

Shelley: Can we talk?

Shelley: In person?

Shelley: Devon’s at my house, playing touch football of all things. We can go to the dorm.

Finn: See you there.

I made it to Cortland Hall before Josh and slipped into the lobby as someone was walking out.