He nods, and I run to the kitchen, grabbing four beers and a fresh ice pack before I head back to the living room.
“I'd ask if you need any meds, but I'm pretty sure you shouldn't mix those with this much alcohol.”
He winces a bit as he readjusts, finally finding a comfortable position.
“Nah. I'll take something in the morning.”
I lay down on the couch, imagining myself in my therapist's office. I think back to October, to a time when I thought Ethan was one of the worst people on Earth.
“He did what I asked and backed off. But backing off wasn’t enough for Coach – he needed us working together. So we started sitting together on the plane.”
“Really?”
“Honestly, it was Coach's idea. He thought we needed to watch film together, see what we could learn from one another. And it worked. He sees hockey plays on this totally different level. He can see these tiny openings and helped me figure out ways to get through them.”
“So you started winning.”
“Yeah. And with me knowing he was, you know, gay, I started realizing how little he actually knew about being gay.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, he has the views of masculinity that you would have if you were brought up by an old school NHL player. I mean, he listened to “boy” music and read “boy” books. Hell, I'm surprised he didn't think washing his ass was too gay.”
“Are you sure about that?”
My face turns red.
“As someone who has been up close and personal, I can assure you he washes all his parts.”
“Well, at least there's that.”
“And then he realized I was still at the hotel, so he took me apartment hunting. And he'd, like, done his research. Found this super cool queer neighborhood in Minneapolis...”
“That sounds like a contradiction in terms.”
“I keep telling you – therearein fact gay people in Minneapolis. You should come check it out. Anyway, he takes me to these perfect apartments and we just...talk. About the neighborhood, about our families. And at the end of the day, he takes me to this beautiful house. I mean, truly grade A real estate porn.”
“I thought you live in a loft?”
“I do. It wasn't for me. He even told me my money guy wouldn't let me buy it even if I wanted to.”
“You have a money guy?”
“Apparently I'm supposed to.”
“So if it wasn't for you, who was it for?”
“It was...it was for him. Or, like, for the person he dreamed of being, one day?”
Avery looks at me, confused.
“We had already talked about why he hadn't come out before, but this was the first time he told me that one day, he wanted to.”
“A lot of closeted guys say shit like that, Jamie.”
I feel a flare of anger inside me, as though I hadn't once told myself the same thing.
“I know that. I do. But it wasn't...it wasn't 'oh look, Jamie. Here's this beautiful house we could have together in a coupleyears'. It was more 'one day I can fade into obscurity and no one will care about me anymore and then I can have a dog with a man I love'.”
