Page 131 of The New Guy
“Thanks,” I say. But my mind is starting to shut down. I woke up in Brooklyn, having a normal day. And now my head is exploding.
“You may find that there are others in the organization who share some of your recent challenges.”
“What?” I force myself to focus on what he’s saying. “What kind of challenges?”
He fingers his soda can. “I have a feeling that one or two of your new teammates might struggle with their sexuality.”
“Why do you think that?” I demand.
He shrugs cryptically. “It’s a hunch. It’s my hope that someday soon nobody will have to struggle. That any person—hockey player or not—will feel free to express themselves. If somehow you help the Cougars move toward that future, I’d be grateful. But if you just want to skate fast and make goals, I’ll take that as a consolation prize.”
I stare at him.
“Get some rest. See you tomorrow,” he says.
Then he walks away.
FORTY-FIVE
Gavin
OCTOBER
“What are we watching, ducky?”I ask Jordyn. “Anything but Frozen.”
Now that Reggie is living here again, she and Jordyn have resumed singing all those songs. A guy can only take so much.
“Isn’t there a hockey game on?” Jordyn asks me. “The season started, right, Daddy?” She grabs the remote control and points it at the TV.
“Yeah,” I say begrudgingly. But the game holds no appeal. “The game isn’t as interesting to me without Hudson on the team, though.”
Jordyn clearly hasn’t lost interest. Not in hockey and not in Hudson. She constantly asks me how he’s doing, and whether he likes Colorado, and if he misses us.
What I believe:I don’t know. I doubt it.Andprobably, but it’s really fucking hard to tell.
What I’ve said: “Great! Sure!” And “He told you he does.”
A week after he left, I received a FedEx package from the Colorado Cougars’ main office. Inside I found a youth-sized jersey and a program with all the players’ signatures on it. And a postcard of Boulder, Colorado.
Dear Jordyn, I’m so sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. It was a real shock. I sure hope you had a great summer. Here’s a new jersey for your collection. —Love, Hudson
Love? My ass.
I’m still bitter. Part of me thinks that Hudson really did love me.
The other part is just plain upset at the way he acted. I’ve been abandoned before, and the cold way he left was triggering for me.
Since then, I’ve had dreams about him leaving. Either I’m chasing the car, or I’m yelling and he can’t hear me. I’ve had some lonely late night hours, lying awake and staring at the ceiling. Sometimes I walk into the weight room at work, and instinctively look for him before I catch myself.
It’s brutal. Not quite as brutal as losing a husband in a car crash. But still bad.
“Daddy, is it?”
My attention snaps back to Jordyn. “What, sweetie?”
“Is Hudson’s game on TV, too?”
“Sure, somewhere,” I tell her. “But we probably don’t have that channel.”
