“So all those times I gave you shit for choosing to be the first out player and getting yourself into this…you didn’t?”
This is one of the reasons I haven’t told him, in spite of how muchtime we’ve been spending together. Now that I know him better, I knew he’d blame himself.
“Well, I chose to keep playing hockey, so there’s that.”
“What…what happened?”
And here’s the other reason — the story isn’t exactly one I’m fond of telling. I take a deep breath.
“Did you know I was supposed to declare for the draft in high school? Had an agent lined up and everything. I was a little old for my grade and had filled out well — was supposed to go pretty high.”
First overall. I was supposed to go first overall.
“I…no. I knew you were…older…in this draft, but I figured you just wanted to get your degree.”
“Nah. I was thrilled to play hockey. And because I knew what I did about professional hockey, I’d decided to remain…circumspect…about my sexuality.”
“Listen, college boy, I’m gonna need you to define that for me.“
“I was in the closet. And happily.”
The look of shock on his face is almost painful to me.
“So…what happened?”
“I was dating this guy. Josh. I mean, dating is probably a really generous term for it. I thought we were just fucking around.”
He frowns at this.
“What did he think?”
I bite my lip.
“I’m…not sure. Sometimes he totally seemed to understand my point of view, but other times…I think he wanted more, but didn’t know how to ask for it. If he evencouldask for it.”
Ethan nods silently.
“Anyway, the spring leading up to my draft, I realized I needed to focus on hockey. Get my mind in the game. And that I probably needed to back off on the fucking around for the time being. Be extra safe.”
Ethan nods again and I know he understands better than literally anyone.
“But, well…I was eighteen and horny.”
Ethan snorts at this.
“We make terrible decisions when we’re eighteen and horny.”
I give him a half-smile, wondering what choiceshe’dmade.
“Anyway, I kept going back to him. I’d say it needed to stop and then a week or a month later, I’d show up at his house after practice.”
Ethan’s shoulders are tensing up and I can tell he knows this story is about to take a turn.
I wish I didn’t have to tell this story. But I think Ethan deserves to know the reality of it, and this is the only way for him to hear it. I take a deep breath.
“One weekend I showed up after a tournament. Our last two games had gone to overtime, and we’d won in a shootout on my goal. I was this weird blend of nearly dead from exhaustion and absolutely exhilarated. When Josh texted to let me know his parents were out of town, I just had to go over.”
I think Ethan knows it’s coming; as he leans against the dresser, a look of worry comes over his face.
