Page 91 of The New Guy
It’s a boy and a girl!boasts the message.She’s four and a half pounds, and he’s five.
I can’t see his smile behind that mask. But his eyes are smiling. And suddenly my throat is thick.
It must show on my face, because Hudson is standing in front of me now. “What is it? Everything okay?”
Wordlessly, I turn the phone around for him to see.
His expression softens. “Look at that. Something good happened tonight after all.”
I clear my throat. “It sure did.” I wonder if Henry is as nervous right now as I usually am. This daddy stuff is not for wimps.
THIRTY-ONE
Hudson
In the morning,I wake up at ten o’clock, feeling bleary. I haven’t slept that late since the ninth grade. My father never allowed it.
I stare at the ceiling for a while, wondering what to do with myself. Some guys crave a day off. But I’m not that guy. Being alone at home just makes me twitchy.
It doesn’t help knowing that Gavin is right next door. It’s tempting to call him. I just want to hear his voice.
But I stay strong. I decide to do some laundry instead.
By two p.m., I’ve folded my T-shirts, paid all my bills, and ordered birthday flowers for my mother. I’ve watched a movie and eaten a healthy brunch.
I do some push-ups. Then some sit-ups. Then some yoga stretches. Another hour passes, but I’m still at loose ends.
There’s nothing like a day alone to remind me that I don’t have much of a personal life.
Okay, any personal life.
It gets so bad that I open my email inbox and respond to everything I’ve let slide during the run-up to the playoffs. There’s a message in there from the PR department.
Hi Bruisers,
I’m still two players short for the photo session happening before our game tomorrow night. Three local LGBTQ organizations are bringing teenage hockey fans to the game, and I’d like to offer the full hour-long session with players. If you can spare ten minutes from your pregame routine, our new fans would treasure it.
—Georgia
I’m not proud of this, but my first reaction is irritation. How dare she make me overthink this again?
Yeah, that’s obnoxious. I should be grateful that my team supports these organizations. Just like I should be grateful that my team embraces Gavin. They love him. Full stop.
But every time I think about it, I feel shame. And it starts me on another loop around thewhat-ifferris wheel.
What if I told the world my truth? What if people look at me differently?
Some of the dumber fans would yell ugly things at me. Some of my ex-teammates would wonder if I used to check them out in the showers.
Spoiler alert: I did not. But they’ll still wonder.
But what if I could handle all that? What if dreading it is worse than the reality?
I’ve had this conversation with myself so many times. There comes a point in almost every day when I’m ready to just toss a lit match on my bonfire of fears, and let it happen.
But then doubt creeps in. What will happen to my career?
It’s enough of a burden that the league sees me as Derek Newgate’s disappointing son. I hate that narrative. Would I then become Derek Newgate’s son who never seems to land on a team…because he’s queer?
