Page 22 of Josh’s Play

He nodded, “Of course.”

“And … can we work together on this project without it happening again?”

“If that’s what you want.” I didn’t know if Josh had meant it as a statement, but to me it sounded like a question. What did I want? For the very first time in my life, I had someone I could be honest with about the answer to that question.

“I don’t know if it’s what I want, Josh. But it’s what I have to do.” Those blue eyes were like crystal lasers as they locked onto mine. He was searching, and I let him, realizing that he was the first person, the only person who had ever looked at me and seen the real me, the whole me. I knew the smile I gave in return was small in comparison as his lit up his face.

“Right. Got it. Study partners.”

He yanked his backpack off the ottoman and onto the table to rummage through it, pulling out his small laptop. It was the first time I noticed it.

“No more brace?”

Josh waved his left hand my way. “I still need to keep it wrapped and do a bunch of stupid exercises every day, but yeah.” He wiggled his fingers slowly before flexing his wrist back and forth. “No more brace!”

He sat at the table in front of his computer. I felt awkward, like there were things that had been left unsaid. If I opened my backpack to begin work, the moment would be over, my chance would be over, the kiss would be over.

Thoughts bounced around in my mind, and I realized that it wasn’t over for me. That moment at the rink had held possibility and promise, only interrupted by my teammates showing up. I stood up and paced over toward the ottoman.

“Campbell?” He looked up, and all I could see were those eyes, remarkable, and kind, and honest.

He ignored my pacing and propped his hands on his keyboard. “Cam? Would you want to talk about the scout coming? We can take some notes, how you’re feeling, how you’re playing or preparing or whatever, then follow it through to the other end. Tie in your journey and your future into my learning about the sport.”

He was doing what I had asked, focusing on the project and forgetting everything else. I didn’t think I would ever be able to focus on anything but him again. And that was a very big problem.

“Finn!” Josh had continued talking and typing notes into his computer, but he looked up at me when I didn’t respond, his eyes alight with humor. I made eye contact in return, hoping the storm I felt behind mine wasn’t visible.

“There you are. Sit the fuck down, Campbell. We have work to do. It’s okay, really. You’re not the first closeted guy I’ve come across. I’m not going to say anything. You can stop worrying.”

“Worrying?”

“About being outed. I promise, I won’t tell. Everyone should come out in their own time, in their own way. But Cam ...” He hesitated, then stood, gesturing toward the ottoman and encouraging me to sit. I took his cue. Josh swung a leg and straddled one of the wooden chairs, facing me.

I sat up straight, feeling awkward on the backless, cushioned seat.

“That’s better.” He smiled again, and I could feel myself leaning into it. Leaning into him. “No one should have to go through what you’re going through alone. You said no one knows. Well, now someone does, so, you know, if you ever need to talk, or if you have any questions. Or if you decide you’re ready.” I could feel my eyebrows rise as my eyes went wide. He quickly added, “I mean, I grew up here; I can tell you every gay hangout from here to the Canadian border. If … when you’re ready, or whatever.”

I shook my head no but didn’t say anything. It felt like I would never be ready, could never be ready. There might be a few queer people in professional sports, but I didn’t see how I could ever be one of them. I reminded myself that I couldn’t have any distractions, that I couldn’t have him as a diversion.

“I forget sometimes,” he went on, looking to fill the silence, “that not everyone has it so easy. I came out when I was fifteen.” I smiled at him to continue, happy to have the focus off me, and much as I didn’t want to admit it, happy to learn as much about Josh as I could. “Even that wasn’t a big deal; I just piggybacked off my brother.”

“Piggybacked?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, thinking of the memory. “My brother Vance, he’s this quiet, shy thinker, always brooding, rarely speaking. Then one day at dinner he’s all, oh, by the way, I’m gay, and I just sort of blurted, holy crap, me too!”

I relaxed and leaned back on one arm, tucking one leg up as we continued talking.

“You stole his thunder!”

“Nah, Vance wouldn’t see it like that. At least I don’t think he did? He had a pretty shitty year after he came out. Like he was really depressed for a while, but I don’t think it had to do with coming out. He’s a writer, and he gets all in his head and shit when he’s working. My dad’s the same way. Vance is still at school here, working on his doctorate.”

“Wow, so, like, your whole family is here?” I’d meant it as an off-handed comment, but it took Josh a good ten minutes to answer that question since Vance wasn’t his only sibling. He fired off names and stories, and I tried to keep up.

“Then there’s Vera,” he concluded after listing more brothers and at least one sister that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to keep straight. “She’s my niece.” He smiled a soft and utterly beautiful smile. “My oldest brother’s kid. She turned seven this year.”

I did remember something he’d told me. “Her mom’s the one who died.”

“Yeah,” Josh said wistfully, but then he raised his still-bandaged hand. “And the one who’s responsible for this. She’s a fucking daredevil! Charging into the waves at high tide. Wiped out like it was nothing. I think she asked her dad if she could do it again before she knew I was hurt!” He laughed fondly, and I laughed along with him.