Page 10

ARUSH

It’s been a few days since we spent the day together, and it was amazing.

But since then, I’ve felt like I don’t belong here.

It’s nothing he’s doing specifically, but.

.. I don’t really know. He was so thoughtful for several mornings and made me breakfast. It truly meant the world to me that he took the time to learn how to cook me an Indian breakfast.

But then it just stopped. He’s been quiet and maybe a little distant.

Tonight’s game isn’t going to help. They got their asses kicked, so I can only imagine he’s not going to be in a good mood.

As I do every time he leaves the house, I listen for the telltale sign of his keys in the lock and then stand in the entry to greet him. I’m not sure why I do this. I guess maybe I just miss him and the silence is so damn loud when he’s gone.

He looks tired when he walks in. I take his gear bag and bring it to the laundry room. Then I join him in the hall again. One of these days, I’m going to learn what his comfort beverage is and make sure I master it so I can offer him a drink when he walks in the door looking defeated.

He gives me a tired smile, and I follow him into the living room. Julian drops onto the couch and rubs his hands over his face. He looks frustrated. I imagine it’s the game he just came home from. I have no idea if Pittsburgh is a good team, but Chicago lost 4-1.

This is probably not a good time, but I feel uneasy today. I need to know.

“Julian?” He looks up, meeting my eyes. “Do you want me to go back to India?” My stomach rolls as the words come tumbling from my mouth.

He frowns. “Why do you think that?”

“I feel like I’m getting mixed signals from you and I’m not sure where you’re at.”

He sighs heavily and leans back on the couch. His eyes are closed. I watch as his chest rises and falls with his breaths for a minute, unsure of what to do. I feel a little fidgety. Standing still feels monumental right now.

When several minutes pass, I ask, “Can I show you something?”

Julian’s eyes open and he glances my way. “Yeah.”

I pull out my phone, and bring up the email with his profile in it.

The one that MOS sent me when he chose me.

Once I have the line about him being asexual on the screen, I turn it toward him.

“This right here is one of the reasons I was so sure that this was the match I was waiting for. You’re exactly the kind of guy I need and I’m the kind of guy you need. ”

Julian’s eyebrows are knitted together when he sees I have his profile up. But as I speak, I watch the lines in his forehead smooth out. I’m glad when a smile curls his lips a little.

“That’s why I chose you, too,” he says. “I’d gone through a lot of profiles and started scrolling specifically to that section. I chose you based on your disinterest in being touched. Then I read the rest of your profile.”

“Is that the only reason you chose me?”

“Admittedly, that’s the only thing that mattered, but once I read your profile, I… I was convinced that you were perfect.”

“But that changed because I have a dick. One you’re not going to touch, but it’s there,” I say.

Julian laughs. “Arush, trust me when I tell you I’m trying to figure some shit out. I’m probably like 98% straight, but I did have crushes on guys as a kid and teenager.”

“Then I don’t understand why you keep yourself so distant.”

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not sure what to expect. I don’t know what to do. Having a crush on a guy is one thing. Getting involved with a guy is apparently a mountain I’m not sure how to begin scaling.”

“You act like I’m another species,” I say, making him laugh again. I love his laughter. It makes me smile. “Why does it have to be different from being involved with a girl? Especially since, for the foreseeable future, sex isn’t on the table, right?”

The only way I can think to interpret his answering expression is relief. “Yeah,” he agrees. I watch his chest inflate as he takes a deep breath. “Can I admit to you that those words are a fucking relief?”

“Yeah?”

Julian nods and drops his head back onto the couch.

“I’m not old by any means. I haven’t lived the kind of life that’s made me jaded or bitter.

But I have lived long enough and with enough attention on me to realize in my teen years that finding a relationship without sexual expectations is impossible.

It’s been incredibly frustrating and when I was drafted to the NHL, I made the decision that it simply wasn’t important to find a girlfriend right now.

Hockey is stressful enough. I don’t want to go through my days being stressed about what’s awaiting me at home after a long day of hockey.

Is she going to guilt me into having sex with her tonight?

Is she going to make me feel like a failure in this relationship because I don’t want to satisfy her?

Do I have to give in to make her happy and then spend the rest of the night and into the next day feeling gross in my own skin? ”

I touch his hand. “I’m sorry. That must have been shitty.”

He shrugs. “After the third girlfriend, it was an obvious pattern and I was over it. Hockey is a lot of stress. It’s a lot of pressure and time and dedication. What I needed in a partner wasn’t something I was going to find, so I stopped getting involved with anyone.”

“What made you change your mind?”

The smile on his lips makes me smile, too. It’s like he’s thinking about a fond memory. Something that makes him happy.

“Last year in Arizona, a handful of guys on the team took me in. It’s the first time I’ve made some really great friends in all my life.

Like girlfriends, guy friends don’t get it when you tell them you’re exhausted from your six-hours of practice to party with them.

” His eyes squint open and he meets my eyes briefly.

There’s a message there that I’m supposed to hear loud and clear.

“These guys were different. Not only because they understood that as hockey players themselves, but… I don’t know.

They brought me into their friendship like I’d always been there. ”

“I have some close friends like that,” I offer.

He smiles. “They’re the first ones I’ve had throughout my entire life.”

“I’m not sure whether I should be happy that you have them now or sad that it’s taken you that long to find them.”

Julian grins. “Both are acceptable responses. I spent so much time and energy focusing on hockey, determined that I was going to make it in this sport when, simply because I am a Black man, there are so many more hurdles in my way than there should be, that I admittedly didn’t make myself available to make friends.

” His hands twist so his fingers can wrap around mine.

“My point isn’t the friendships, though.

Two of the guys on the team had this friendship that always made me think, ‘ I wish I had that .’ They acted like they’d known each other their entire lives.

They practically lived together. They bought boats together and planned trips together.

We used to tease them that they were a cute couple.

Joke’s on us because one day, they announced they were getting married.

They didn’t decide to marry because they were in love but because they were best friends and they couldn’t think of a better future than with each other.

I literally watched them fall in love before my eyes as they planned their wedding and the entire time, I kept thinking, ‘ I want that. That’s the kind of love I want. ’”

“So you decided on a mail-order bride?” I ask.

He laughs quietly. His hand squeezes mine and I think I feel that flex around my heart momentarily.

“No. Not a direct correlation. I’ve tried dating apps and whatever, but again, finding another asexual person is incredibly difficult on dating apps.

I swear, they’re filled with vultures all looking to hook up.

Those who seem okay with me being asexual change their tunes pretty quickly when they realize exactly what that means.

‘Don’t worry; I’ll fix you’ was like a damn mantra online. ”

I can feel my face scrunch in response. That’s disgusting.

“I was playing games online with my Arizona friends a couple weeks ago and Etna and Keno—the besties who married—were online and listening to them made my chest tight. Then there’s Lo and Caulder.

Lo was a guy who was traded out the same year I was traded to Arizona.

His husband plays for Buffalo and he’s in Toronto.

But anyway, they were online, too. And then Hilt, who’s been married for like two decades or some shit and has four kids.

I’m surrounded by all these guys in relationships that I was beginning to envy.

That night when we got offline, I was feeling particularly lonely and turned on the television to a movie and the premise was a mail-order bride. ”

“So you thought you’d try that.”

“I didn’t think it was a real thing,” he says, laughter in his voice. “I thought it was something that took place back in the day. I was shocked when I saw just how many sites there were out there. Not gonna lie, I clicked on the first one that wasn’t an ad.”

“Which was Male Order Spouses.”

Julian nods. “Yep. I looked through the whole site and one of the things I liked was that they said there’s a section on sexual preferences. I thought it was worth a try to see if I could find someone that way.”

“And you did.”

He sighs. It’s quiet and almost… content.

“I did,” he admits. “You no doubt realized that I was shocked when you stood in front of me at the airport. I felt really fucking stupid for not having read Male when it was literally everywhere in front of me. I was so focused on one specific aspect that I didn’t pick up on anything else that would have made me realize the site was for gay men. ”

“So you want to try again?”

Julian’s eyes open entirely now and he looks at me.

“No. I’m really sorry about the mixed signals.

I had already decided that I didn’t care that you’re a guy and yes, I’m also aware I’ve been kind of a stick in the mud.

It was only a few mornings ago that I realized it wasn’t because you’re a guy, but because I’ve never moved beyond having a crush on a guy.

I don’t know where to go from here. I’m not sure what to do.

That’s what I’ve been floundering with this past week. ”

“Why didn’t you answer when I asked if you wanted me to go home?”

“I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted to do. I wasn’t sure if that might be better for you because then you can find someone with their shit together. I’m not sure I’m that person and I’m not sure how to get out of my own way to… create the future we both signed up for.”

“I don’t want to go home. I chose you too, Julian.”

He smiles. His hand turns over completely now, and he tangles his fingers with mine, locking our hands together. “I don’t want you to go home either. And I’m really sorry for making you feel so unsteady.”

“I feel like I need to be cliché for a minute.” He gives me an amused smirk.

“I think instead of filling the space between us with a lot of weird feelings, we should talk about it together like this. My understanding is that conversation is important in relationships.” It’s big talk coming from someone who has mad anxiety when it comes to confronting someone about how I feel.

Julian laughs. He sits up, gripping my hand tightly, and bows his head. “That’s a very fair request. I promise to work on that.”

“Okay, good.” I nod.

“I need to get some sleep. Tonight’s game sucked.”

“Because you lost?” I ask.

He hums in agreement. “We need to gel and we just don’t. It’s frustrating.”

Gel. I have no idea what that means in hockey terms. I’ll have to remember to look it up later. “Okay.”

Julian meets my eyes and we sit like that for a few minutes. “I’m glad you said something, Arush. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re unwanted.”

“I know what it’s like not finding the kind of person you’re compatible with.”

“I’m sure you do,” he says. “I think for a lot of people, watching someone touch themselves makes them want to get involved.”

“Exactly that.”

“Let’s talk more in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Do you feel better now, knowing where I’m at?”

“Much better.”

“Good. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“I know.”

He squeezes my hand once more before letting it go and getting to his feet. I watch him disappear down the hall. A minute later, I head into my bedroom. As soon as the door is shut, I turn around and lean back against it, letting my head fall backward with a quiet thump.

That went well. Right? It did. I do feel a lot better now. I’m not sure that would pass as a profession of love, but… it still feels like maybe we got somewhere tonight.

Pushing myself from the door, I head into the attached bathroom and get ready for bed. As I’m climbing in, I decide that maybe I don’t want to sleep in here tonight. Would Julian let me sleep in his room instead? Is that pushing it?

Chewing my lip, I debate whether I want to give it a try. In the end, I decide that I’m not a fan of sleeping in this dark, quiet, cold room. There’s no color here. It feels so chilly and clinical.

I open my door and stop in his open doorway. He’s not in the room. Probably still in the bathroom, so I wait. I’m not there long when the bathroom door opens, and he steps out in pajama pants and a sleeveless shirt. His eyes immediately meet mine.

“Everything okay?”

I nod and then wonder how I’m supposed to ask. Can I sleep with you? Kind of sounds juvenile, no? My eyes flicker to his bed and back to his. I’m relieved when he looks amused and gestures to the bed.

I’m going to interpret that as an invitation and cross the room to climb in. Much better. I roll over to face him as the lights go out.

“Goodnight, Arush,” he says quietly.

My heart flutters. “Goodnight, Julian.”