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“Do you hope this is going to start a chain reaction in the NHL,” a female reporter asks.
“Do I hope that? Yes. Do I expect it to happen right away? No,” I say. “Realistically, it doesn’t make sense to believe that every player in professional male sports is straight. Statistically, I think it’s something like two and a half percent of men identify as gay or bisexual. Why wouldn’t that translate over into the world of sports? More importantly, why isn’t it accepted in sports like it has become in other areas of life? Or even in women’s sports. It’s a lot to contemplate, and an important conversation that should be had.”
“Is it a conversation you’ll be spearheading,” she follows up with.
“No,” I say bluntly. “I’m a private person, I’d like to keep it that way. As I’ve said, I’m here to work hard for the Blades and I’ll keep my focus on the team. Also, I think there are others who are more articulate than I, and who are better qualified to lead that conversation. That doesn’t mean I won’t throw my support behind it though.”
“Surely you expect people will be curious,” another reporter asks.
“People can be as curious as they want to be. That’s on them. But again, I’ll say, if it isn’t something you would ask a straight player, then you have no business asking me. My personal life will not be fetishized.”
“Do you worry about your place in the league?” This is from Jonathon, a journalist at one of the bigger sports magazines.
“I always worry about my place in the NHL. We all do, it’s part of having a profession where everything changes very quickly.” It’s not the answer he’s seeking, but it’s what he’s getting. Changes in the NHL won’t happen by a tidal wave, they’ll start with a small ripple. I’m just the first of what I can hope will be more and more. If I’m lucky enough to have the opportunity to retire from the league someday, it would be nice to leave it a better place than what I found it in.
A league that celebrates diversity instead of one that all too often fights to hide it.
Coach is asked a series of questions and then someone asks Cillian if he’s here in support of my decision to come out.
“I am,” he says. “Zander is an important part of this brotherhood. He’s proven himself in each game and he works harder than most to excel and improve. I love the guy; I’ve never been prouder to call someone my teammate.”
His statement is followed by a round of whooping from the guys that made the effort to be here today instead of off with their families as they normally would be. Beside Blom, stands Wallin, Vaughn, and Letty. I’m no longer the rookie to them, I’m one of them.
Part of a team. Something I’ve been for as long as I remember, but it’s never felt this profound. Men I’ve only known for a few months are standing shoulder to shoulder with me while I make a move that could have lasting effects on us all.
That’s not something I’m taking for granted. Fucking ever.
For so long, I’ve hidden who I am for fear of backlash. That weight isn’t gone, but it isn’t as heavy now either. Because I’m not carrying it alone. The guys are with me, Coach is with me, Damian and Willa are with me.
It’s more family than I could have ever dreamed of.
Epilogue
Willa
It’s graduation day.
For Callie. She’s done with high school and ready to start at the Cornish College of the Arts in the fall. Our entire family was there to watch her walk and throw her cap. So was her mother, who finally left their dad about a year ago. She moved here, but Callie stayed with us. Leaving the sanctuary she built herself in the room she picked in Damian’s house wasn’t an option for her. We were happy about that, just not ready to let her go yet.
She doesn’t have to move out for college, but she’s expressing a desire to be on her own. At least she’ll still be close.
Damian has published his second book and is working with a documentarian on a cult that is being run out of British Columbia. He’s busy but thriving.
Zander is still playing for the Seattle Blades. This city has embraced him. The first season after what happened in Houston was grueling on his mental health. He was hated in so many places they played. That only fueled him though, and the rest of the team, determined to show up all the homophobes in the world of hockey.
They’ve dominated the league the past couple of years because they play with continuity and none of them are in it for themselves. Oddly enough, them knowing about our relationship has bolstered them rather than hindered them.
Often, it’s our house they all gravitate to. We regularly host the guys and their wags for various events or quick holiday get togethers between road trips and games. Nobody finds our situation weird anymore. We’re just us, the Cole/March/Fane family.
And we’re growing by the day. I gave birth to our first son sixteen months ago, in the midst of setting up my charity organization that works with the women’s and domestic violence shelters in Western Washington. I’m doing exactly what I had planned on, helping women learn a livable skill that gives them the independence to walk away from the horrible circumstances they can all too often find themselves in.
Kit asked me when I was pregnant with Jasper if I had any idea if the father was Zan or Damian. I didn’t then. I do now because he looks so much like his daddy. On paper, he is Jasper Cole-March, the next heir in line to the ridiculously large March fortune. Whether he shares blood with Damian or not has never mattered to any of us.
The baby I carry now, the tiny girl growing so quickly, will be Lilly Cole-Fane, and she’ll be our last. I don’t particularly enjoy pregnant life. I thoroughly believe I was meant to be these babies’ mama, but my body hates the process and I’m sick more than I’m not. I will never be one of those women who waxes romantically about what it was like growing a human inside of me. This shit is rough.
Damian has already gotten a vasectomy and Zan has his appointment next month. There wasn’t a question in either of their minds about other options.
“You did all the hard work, we can handle the rest,” Damian had said.
Pregnancy has been the only tough part of motherhood for me. The rest has been great, but I’m lucky and have more support than most. Two husbands definitely help.
I’m not legally married to either man, but we held our own commitment ceremony. Hugo Blom officiated in a light-hearted and joyful celebration of the love we share. Instead of rings, we wear matching tattoos on the inside of our ring fingers, a simple script reading CMF. I know who I belong to, and at the same time, I know they belong to me.
We’re in this for the long haul. For life.
Together, the three of us together as one.
