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“We should probably mingle a little bit.” I tell him, voice tight even though I’m making a distinct effort to maintain a pleasant tone. I indicate the crowd with a nod. And then, with a hint of sarcasm: “We are the celebrity guests, after all.”
The corner of Corwin’s mouth twitches in the barest hint of a smile. It’s gone in a flash, but I feel better having seen it. My Corwin is still here, just hiding. I wonder if we can politely make our excuses and go home yet; I want to strip him down and make sure he doesn’t have a bruise on his back.
Corwin’s mom, who hadn’t followed her husband, has been watching our exchange with discerning blue eyes. She sighs, looking between us before placing a gentle hand on Corwin’s arm and kissing his cheek.
“Oh honey, why can’t you love someone sensible?” She says in a low voice meant only for him, but which carries to me nonetheless.
Corwin flinches and I decide I’ve had about enough of this shit that I can take. Stepping forward, I close that last bit of distance between us, placing my hand on the top of his shoulder gently. It’s the kind of touch you might see between friends, and I’m careful to keep it that way. Corwin’s mom might see it for what it is, but nobody else is paying close enough attention.
“It was nice to meet you, but we’ve got to go.” I say, firmly. Corwin nods, to my relief.
“I’ll call you sometime, Mom.” She smiles like she knows this is a lie, before turning and moving off to find her husband in the crowd.
As soon as she’s gone, I drop my hand from his shoulder. He slumps, slightly. Clearing his throat, he tugs on the cuffs of his jacket, avoiding my eyes. I wait, using the silence to try and tame the anger currently roiling in my stomach.You lied to me, I say silently to the top of Corwin’s head,you fucking lied to me. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I take a step back from him. He finally looks up, and he looks so unlike the Corwin I’ve grown used to these past few months I want to throw my glass against the wall and watch it shatter.
“Let’s get some air,” I suggest, turning on my heels and walking away.
We’re stopped several times as we make our way across the room, each time making my jaw clench tighter. I don’t look at Corwin, already struggling to keep my facial expressions and tone neutral. Lawson tries to flag us down but Corwin waves him off, murmuring something about not feeling well. It makes me angrier and knowing how unfair that is to him only pisses me off more. It’s a relief when we finally push the front door open, cool night air a blessing against my warm face. I take a couple deep breaths; I need to calm down before I say something I regret.
The valet approaches us and I hand him my ticket. Corwin reaches for his own as well but I wave him back.
“No. I’ll drive and we’ll leave your car here tonight.” The young man working the valet stand opens his mouth to inform me how expensive it’ll be, but I cut across him. “It’s fine, I’ll pay for it.”
Corwin doesn’t even try to argue, just tucks the ticket back inside his jacket before sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants. We’re alone, the sounds of the party a muffled din through the glass front doors. We shouldn’t be leaving so soon, but I can’t bring myself to walk back inside. I make a mental note to contribute a large donation—they need that more than photo-ops with athletes, anyway.
“I’m sorry.” Corwin tells me, like I knew he would.
“Why are you sorry?”
“About what he said to you.”
I breathe out hard through my nose. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”
He stares at me, hard. A very small frown creases the lines of his eyebrows. It’s clear he can tell I’m pissed, but is unsure whether it’s directed at him or not.
“I think you lied to me.” His eyes widen in surprise, his only physical reaction to my words. I’m keeping my voice pitched low, just between us. Anyone could walk out or see us through the windows—it’s not the place to get into a shouting match. “You made it seem like you avoided talking to your dad because he criticized your hockey career and made you feel like shit. You made it seem like nobody knows you’re gay, but it’s pretty obvious that your homophobic fucking parents know. You gave me just enough of the truth to keep me off your back. You wanted me to think you guys just didn’t get along, not that you’ve beenabused.”
“You’re angry.” He says, softly.
“Yeah, I am. But because I’m a fucking man, I can handle my emotions and not take them out on you with my fist.”
His already pale face whitens further, the shadows beneath his eyes becoming more pronounced. “I never said he hit me.”
“No, you didn’t.”But your face just proved me right. “But I wish you had. Or if you couldn’t tell me, at least you could have told Lawson. Either one of us would have done what needed to be done to make sure you didn’t have to come here tonight.”
My car pulls up, then, drawing our attention. I angrily pop the passenger door open for Corwin before skirting around the hood. When we’re both settled in, I glance over at him. He’s turned away, looking out the window toward the partygoers inside. I want him to talk to me; I want him to trust me enough to share hard things with me. But I can’t force it, not without creating more damage. Sighing, I put the car in drive and slowly pull away.
The car is silent, lit up by passing streetlights. I’m looking at the road, but can still feel the exact moment he turns away from the window and looks at me.
“He was always bad, but things got so much worse after he retired. You’ve seen how he played—he was able to beat the shit out of people and get paid for it. Peoplelovedhim for it. But then he retired and it was like he couldn’t adapt. He just got meaner…angrier. You’re not wrong that my parents know I’m gay, but it wasn’t like I ever came out to them, per say. I just…mentioned it in passing once, a boy I liked. That was the first time Dad ever hit me and it was like a dam broke after that.” Corwin laughs, suddenly. The sound so unexpected that it’s jolting. “Can you imagine? Here he wanted a son who was just like him—someone who played hockey the way he played it, and was just as mean and tough as he is. Instead, he got me, and what a fucking disappointment that was. Being gay? I doubt he could come up with anything he’d have liked less.”
I listen quietly, not wanting to interrupt. I can feel the stitching on the steering wheel digging into where my fingers are gripped tightly around it. My heart aches for him, and the pain makes it hard to breathe. I can hardly fathom the sort of miracle that must have occurred for someone as compassionate and selfless as Corwin to come from a household like that.
“You’re right. I should have told you, or Lawson. Troy. But it’s easier not to bring it up and, frankly, I didn’t want to see you look at me like I was someone who needed to be pitied. There are a lot of people who have it worse than I did.”
“First of all,pityisn’t a bad thing. Of course, I feel bad that that happened to you—you’re my person. I’m never going to be okay with you being hurt, and as for other people being worse off…that’s not the point. Just because he didn’tkillyou doesn’t make it okay that hebeatyou. He doesn’t get to claim moral superiority because he didn’t actas badly as he could have done.”
I glance over at Corwin, but he’s watching the road out the windshield. His face is mostly in shadow and it’s impossible to see his expression. I drive for several miles before he speaks again.
