“That’s sweet,” Chrissy said, and then stepped away to break up an argument between their kids.
“You talk to Coop lately?” JP asked.
I shrugged. “A couple of times.”
“Yeah. I don’t get to talk to him much during the season, but I watch all his games on TV. Are you watching tonight?”
“That’s the plan. Pizza and hockey with the grandparents.”
“Well, it was good seeing you. If you’re here next summer, you’ve got an open invitation to our 4th of July party. But I demand a cornhole rematch.”
I chuckled. “You’ve got a deal.”
I grabbed the pizza from the pickup counter and headed for my car. When I returned to the house, I could hear the familiar sounds of the hockey game on TV. I dished up a couple of slices for each of us and then settled in to watch the game.
Toward the end of the second period, Toronto was leading the Bruins by two. I glanced over at my grandparents, who were engrossed in the game. Grandpa, sitting in his recliner with his broken leg propped up on a pillow, was yelling at the TV as if the players could hear him. Grandma sat beside him, shaking her head and occasionally muttering under her breath.
“When did you two become such big hockey fans?” I couldn’t recall ever watching a game with them as a kid.
“A few months after we moved here,” Grandpa replied. “Turns out Emmett Cooper is a bit of a local hero. It’s all anyone can talk about during the season, so we figured we might as well watch too.”
It seemed like no matter where I was or what I was doing, there was no escaping Coop. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to anymore.
“It gave us something to talk about with our new friends,” Grandma added. “Besides, some of those players are hotties.”
“Grandma!” I gasped, teasingly. “Those guys are young enough to be your grandsons.”
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate their good looks.” She winked.
During intermission, I got each of us a refill for our drinks and grabbed the container of home-baked cookies. While my grandma’s clam chowder was award-winning, her cookies were to die for. Maybe I could sweet talk her into sending some home with me when I left.
The game had barely started again when Coop and one of the Toronto players began throwing punches. It was only my second season of watching hockey, but I knew it was rare for Coop to get involved in any of the fights between players. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever seeing him lose his temper. Even the night we broke up when he was pissed at me, he didn’t look aggressive like this. The person on the ice wasn’t the Emmett Cooper I knew.
A few minutes later, as he skated toward the penalty box, the camera got a shot of blood dripping from his lip.
Grandma covered her mouth and whispered, “Oh my goodness.”
“Looks like Cooper got the better of that Harrison guy,” Grandpa said. “I’m sure everyone’s going to be talking about this one tomorrow.”
I wanted to add something to the conversation, but I couldn’t pull my attention away from the screen. It was the second time I’d seen Coop get hurt during a game, but at least it didn’t appear as though he had any injuries beyond the split lip. Still, I didn’t enjoy seeing him like that, and a part of me wondered if our conversation the night before had anything to do with his anger tonight.
9
COOP
The autumn leaves crunchedbeneath my sneakers as I made my way through the peaceful cemetery. Jonah’s grave was nestled in a quiet corner. I knelt to brush away the fallen leaves that covered the headstone. The words on the cold slab seemed to stare back at me, a silent testament to a friendship lost too soon. “Jonah Walsh. Beloved son. Loyal friend. Badass hockey player.”
I took a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Hey, Jonah,” I began, my voice cracking. “I came here to tell you something. Something I wish I could have told you while you were still here.”
The wind whispered through the trees as if carrying my words to him in heaven. I hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I finally did it. I told the guys on the team that I’m gay.”
A bittersweet smile crossed my face as I imagined Jonah’s reaction. After he got over the shock because I hadn’t told him sooner, he would have flashed that playful grin of his and thrown an arm around my shoulder, proud and supportive. But he couldn’t do that now. Instead, I traced the letters of his name with my fingers.
“I wish you could have been there,” I confessed. “The guys were so accepting, so understanding. No judgment, no prejudice. It made me realize maybe you didn’t have to carry that secret with you to your grave. Maybe you could have been free, just like me.”
Tears blurred my vision, and I wiped them away with the brush of my fingers. “I’m sorry, Jonah,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I never told you when you were alive. I should have trusted our friendship enough to share that part of me with you. I was always so scared of losing hockey that I just kept it to myself, not wanting to tell anyone. But the last few years, I haven’t wanted to live in the closet anymore, and even though I’ve had my difficulties with relationships, I think I’m finally working toward being happy. To being out.”
I sat there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of my unspoken truth and Jonah’s absence pressing down on me. The wind rustled the leaves, a gentle reminder that life went on even when a part of it was missing.
