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“Oh.” Her joy still resonates in that sound. The hope for grandchildren, a life that she and my dad had imagined for me.

“Mom. I never wanted to tell you this over the phone. I was planning to come home after this season and talk to you in person. To explain things to you.”

She’s silent for a moment. “What kind of things, Evan?” Her voice is soft.

I’m getting sick. My knees are going weak and my skin is tingling. It’s as if I’m standing outside myself. My consciousness is leaving my body. It’s still half inside me, but it’s already on its way out the door.

“I’m gay, Mom. I always have been. I’m with a man. Someone I love very much.” Dammit, why didn’t I video call? I can’t see her expression, and I’m drowning in the silence that booms through the phone. Why did I say all that? Wouldn’t one piece of information have been enough for now? What’s wrong with me? Why isn’t my mom answering?

The seconds tick by. They feel like forever. “Mom?”

“I . . . ”

Why didn’t I do this face-to-face years ago? Why did I hesitate? What’s wrong with me?

Stomach acid rises into my throat.

“Mom, can you say something?”

“Evan, I . . . ” She pauses. “This comes as a complete surprise. I never would have guessed.” Is that a sob? “Oh, your father.”

My father is dead. His opinion shouldn’t matter to anyone here anymore.

“Mom.” I plead with her. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but my boyfriend was in an accident. He’s at the hospital and . . . I don’t know exactly how he’s doing. But I have to go to the hospital, see him, be with him. That’s why I have to tell the team. Because otherwise, it might come out somehow. I’ve been hiding myself—and us—for so long, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t do that to him or to myself. I can play the part of the tough, straight hockey guy, but I can’t let Parker down. My team needs to know why I’m missing practice, or what’s going on.”

“You’d neglect hockey for this Parker guy?” She sounds incredulous, as if I were five again and, for once, would rather go to a friend’s birthday party than to practice. That kind of thing doesn’t happen in our family.

“I’m not neglecting anything. But I have to prioritize. Hockey has always been my number one priority. Everything else had to take a back seat. Without thinking, I always chose hockey. Always. Hockey can handle not being number one for once.” I hope so. And I hope my team can handle it, too.

“Evan, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Mom. I just want you to know. I don’t want you to be caught off guard by any news.”

“But why do you have to be on the news?”

Shit, she’s not getting any of this. “I don’t have to do anything. But you know how it is. Sometimes things get out that you want to keep to yourself. Private things.”

“Oh, Evan.” She’s panting heavily. “Please try to keep this a secret. How am I supposed to explain this to people? You’ve always been so . . . ”

What have I been? What am I now? I don’t even want to know the answer, so I don’t ask.

“Mom, sooner or later I’m going to have to go public with this if I want to lead a normal life with Parker. But I hope it won’t be today or tomorrow or during the playoffs. I want to do this on my own terms.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Me neither. “Listen, Mom, nothing’s changed. I’m still the same person. I’ve never been any different. You just didn’t know it.”

“Okay. Does Joni know?”

Damn, I hope she’s not mad at her. “Yes. I only told her recently. Don’t be mad, okay?”

“No, of course not. But Evan . . . ”

“Yeah?”

The silence on the line is deafening. It drags on and weighs heavily on my chest.

“I don’t understand any of this. None of it. But I love you.”