Page 50 of Next Season
“Hey, Vin…I like him. That’s all.” I opened my hands and slid them on my thighs. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Neither did Vinnie. His eyes creased thoughtfully at the corners behind his sunglasses. If I had to guess, I’d think he was trying to measure his words to avoid pissing me off. It was tempting to assure him that wasn’t necessary, but damn it, I wasn’t ready to tear any walls down and share…anything.
My body was healing, my brain was healing, but me? I was a mess of tangled contradictions. Superstitious yet enthralled by my sexual discovery, secretive yet eager to please, confused yet certain I was on the right path. Being with Jean-Claude was easy. Sharing what he meant to me and what that revealed about me…not so easy.
Vinnie cleared his throat after a minute or so. “JC’s a good guy. A hothead sometimes, but so am I.”
“True,” I snarked.
He shot an unabashed grin my way, then resumed squinting at the white minivan in front of us. “Hey, uh…is it too nosy to ask ifyouhave feelings forhimor something?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Oh.” Silence. “Well, do you?”
“Fuck, Vinnie.”
“Sorry. Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. It’s not my business. I know that, and I know I would have freaked the fuck out if anyone had asked me these questions. I’ve been out for a few years now and it’s so damn liberating that I forget what it was like when I was in the closet and—”
“Why’d you wait?”
“Huh?”
I twisted in my seat, worrying my bottom lip. “Nosy question, but since we’re on a roll. Why’d you wait till you retired to come out? Were you afraid there’d be backlash?”
“Not sure. In my mind they were very separate things, but the truth…yeah, I was scared.” He inhaled and sighed. “But if I had to do it over again, I wouldn’t wait. I think of the time I wasted that could have been spent with Nolan, and it makes me sad. Maybe that’s a dumb way to think, though. Maybe I was never going to be ready to commit until I’d worked through the noise in my head, ya know?”
I hummed in acknowledgment. “Makes sense.”
“Right. And moving on from uncomfortable topics…subject change number two.” Vinnie held up two fingers and continued, “I think I talked Nolan into buying a snowmobile. Remember when Grizzly invited everyone to his cabin in Montana for a team bonding weekend on the holiday break, then busted his arm when he fell off his snowmobile and missed the rest of the season?”
“Grizzly’s still a bonehead,” I smirked.
Vinnie hooted, merrily launching into ancient locker room antics. I joined in, glad to put probing discussions behind us.
But that conversation stuck with me for the rest of the day.
I thought about what it meant to deny feelings, not only for yourself but for someone else.
Let’s be real, wrestling with your sexuality was daunting at any age. My family wouldn’t care that I was bi, and the friends who mattered wouldn’t either—that included a few of my teammates. But I wasn’t naïve. Some of the guys would have a big problem with it. They might not care about the bi part until I mentioned I was seeing someone. Assuming Jean-Claude and I figured out a way to do this long-distance. We might fail, or he might not be interested anyway.
Was the truth worth the possible fallout if we couldn’t be together? When did self-preservation become selfishness? And should I have been concerned that my buddy had not-so-subtly hinted that he knew there was something going on with Jean-Claude and me?
Holy fuck, my head was a trippy place to be.
I didn’t have it in me to play mental hopscotch. I channeled my energy into maintaining a positive outlook in the hopes that it would deliver a clear MRI. The doctor was pleased with my progress and while he was concerned about my lingering light sensitivity, he seemed confident it would fade within the month.
“You might not see any action in December, but I would think your team physician would okay you to practice with the team by mid-December,” the doctor said.
“That’s good news.”
Doctor Wu smiled faintly. “Yes, be prepared for the lengthy lecture regarding the danger of repeat concussions on your next visit. You’re thirty-five…thirty-six in May, according to your chart. You’ll want to consider your long-term health. See you in two weeks.”
I opened my mouth to assure him my long-term health would be just fine if I continued playing hockey, but he was gone.
Retirement was another plate to throw into the mix. My world had been upended and I’d learned more about myself than I’d bargained on, but this wasn’t how I wanted to go out. There had to be a way to regain control that didn’t involve losing hockey and the best thing that had come into my life in years.
Maybe ever.