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It’s weird, Kent will think later, how time seems to diverge at certain moments. How certain moments seem to draw out forever; every small detail burned into memory – the smell, the sound, the way the light fell through the window, the song on the radio when it happened. There are only ever a couple of those moments, for Kent. Generally time seems fluid, for him. Weeks and months pass him by; when asked he could not recall but a few incidents from his grade school days. He’s content to live in the moment, focus on the here and now. Don’t look back.
But he remembers exactly how the light fell through the window when he got the call about Grandpa. The number, color and smell of all the flowers in the garden the day his mum told him why Dad left. The lyrics to the song that came on the radio when he opened the bathroom door and found Jack; when he drove home from a failed attempt to bridge gaps with Jack the first time; the second; the last.
For this moment Kent, will remember silence – every noise fading into the background when sees Jack kissing the blonde kid from the Kegster on live TV. There is nothing – no bar, no teammates, only the sound of ocean rushing in his ears. Numb. He could not for the life of him remember the next bit of the evening. An indeterminate amount of time later he was at home, on the huge sofa, staring at the wall. There was no sign of Kit, anywhere, which he would find funny later, looking back. His mobile is next to him, blowing up with messages and missed calls. He checks but it seems he did not message anyone or make any social media statements, which might be for the best, really.
He does not dare to google Jack’s name, instead he concentrates on breathing for the next few minutes and tries to decide on a plan of… of anything really. He tries to sort out how he feels, which proves difficult. Jealous, of the kid, obviously, but… It makes him feel small and mean to resent Jack for having a happy relationship, a supportive team. He knows, distantly, that he should be the bigger person; they were both young and fucked up; they both dealt with the fallout incredibly poorly. He’s never going to get an apology out of Jack who seems to have simply put everything from before the Draft in a box and locked it away; he’s never going to be able to apologize to Jack for not having been … enough. For not resisting the urge to bite back and hit where he knew it would hurt, just as much as he hurt.
Finally he opens twitter and composes a rather generic message of support as he no longer has Jack’s number. He decides that the best thing is simply to go on, for now. He has successfully hidden his sexuality for years and though it never really got better, he had gotten used to it. There was no reason for everything to feel… smaller, suddenly. Claustrophic. He goes through the motions for a few weeks – interviews, training, routine. He wishes he could withdraw from his teammates, but he’s the captain. So he goes to breakfasts, to cookouts and hangouts; he ignores the jokes as he always has but it… grates.
The press is … better then Kent would have predicted. There is a huge outpouring of messages of support for Jack; and most NHL teams have at least tweeted generic support even though Kent is a cynic and thinks that most of that is lip service. The new season will tell. Predictably, Jack has not gotten in touch with him, at all. Not that he had really expected it, considering how they had left things.
Things finally seem to move a few weeks before the next season is set to start, with Swoops and Scraps over at Kent’s apartment; gaming, day drinking and trash talking. Kent finds himself watching them, out of the corner of his eye. He tries to imagine how they would react, if he simply dropped the act. He must have zoned out for longer than he realized because Scraps is elbowing him, looking concerned. “Come on Parse! What’s up with you lately? You’re just… not really … there.” Swoops puts down his controller and moves to Kent’s other side. Trapped. “So is this like… an intervention? What am I supposed to tearfully confess to?” “It’s just… we noticed that you seem really down, lately. We’re worried about you. And like… you can talk to us, all right?” Kent sinks deeper into the sofa and … considers. Scraps and Swoops are his two closest friends, on the team, even though he gets along well enough with the rest of the guys. They seem generally chill, liberal. And he’s tired. The last few weeks have been weird; he had expected to be stressed, about everything. Instead he’s just. Done. He can’t bring himself to care, really.
In the end, what he remembers about this moment is the smell of junkfood and alcohol, the soundtrack of the game they had been playing. He sits up straighter, then stands up, facing them. “I’m gay,” he says. “I always knew. I also knew the price of playing professional hockey was hiding.” He does not look at them; he looks at a spot just past Swoops left temple. “I guess seeing your teenage sweetheart get everything you ever wanted and never thought possible live on TV is bound to put some things in perspective.” He finally looks them both in the eye, Swoops then Scraps. They don’t seem to know what to say. “I tried to wait it out, a bit. I feel like I’ve just been holding my breath, afraid of what will happen next. I didn’t really plan on ever telling… you. Or anyone. I know management; I know the oldies on the team; it’s … what Jack seems to have, that’s not how it would go down here. But… it’s been getting harder to care.” He takes a deep breath. Nothing like moments of clarity, might as well keep working through it. “I look at Jack and even though I’m jealous, mostly I just… I want that. With someone.” Kent pauses, but his moment of epiphany seems to be done for now. “Okay, that’s it.”
Scraps finally seems to find his composure again and simply stands up, crosses the distance and pulls Kent into a hug. “Thanks for telling us. We’ve got your back.” Swoops still seems sort of dazed, whatever confession he had been after, this clearly has not been it. He blinks, realizes what Scraps said and mumbles “Yeah, same.” Kent leans into Scraps and simply breathes, for a moment. “Thanks.” Swoops sort of… starts to speak and then stops again, searching for words but Kent can’t bring himself to worry. It’s out, he’s said it, the world kept turning. He’s taking this as a win.
Swoops finally looks up; straight into Kent’s eyes. “You’re still a dumbass. You could have told us.” He stands up and he and Scraps seem to switch places. “I’m sorry I did not stand up to the other dicks when they made dumb jokes. I should have… “ and words seem to be out again, for now. But Kent does not care. He’s out of words, too, for now. Something’s ending. Something new is starting.