You seem like the kind of player who'd understand.
For months, I had carried those words around with me. Now there was a new message waiting beneath them.
noah_jensen1709: Thank you.
That was all it said at first. Two words. I read the rest of the messages.
noah_jensen1709: Thank you for doing what you did.
noah1709: I honestly thought I'd said something wrong when you never answered. After a while, I figured you probably didn't know what to say. Then I figured maybe I shouldn't have sent the message at all.
Noah_jensen1709: I just wanted you to know that seeing you up there yesterday meant a lot.
The words blurred slightly before I realized I hadn't blinked in several seconds. The kid thought I'd ignored him. The kid thought he'd done something wrong.
Meanwhile, I had been sitting in hotel rooms and airport terminals carrying his message around like a stone in my pocket because I couldn't stop thinking about it.
A humorless laugh escaped me. "Nice work, Hale."
I opened the keyboard.
Halestorm: Sorry it took me so long to answer.
The response appeared almost immediately.
noah_jensen1709: You don't have to apologize.
noah_jensen1709: Actually, I kind of think you do.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
The exchange felt strangely normal compared to everything else that had happened over the last two days.
Eventually, Noah started talking about what he wanted his future to look like. He talked about hockey camps, scouts, college recruiters, and locker rooms. He talked about wondering whether being himself would cost him opportunities before he'd even had a chance to earn them. Mostly, though, he talked like a teenager.
Funny.
Awkward.
Hopeful.
The longer we messaged each other, the more obvious it became that he wasn't looking for a hero.
He was looking for proof.
Proof that somebody like him could exist in the sport he loved. Proof that a future was possible. I hoped he found it.
When the conversation finally slowed, I leaned back against the wall and stared at the screen. For the last twenty-four hours, people had asked whether I regretted coming out. Whether it had been worth it. Whether I was afraid of the consequences.
Noah's messages gave me the answer more clearly than any interview ever could.
Whatever headaches, headlines, and complications came next, I knew one thing with complete certainty.
If I'd done nothing else right yesterday, I had answered one kid's question.
