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"So what's it like being the first out athlete in the NHL?"
Jack felt his blush rise as the crowd clapped and hollered at the end of Ellen's question – they'd already risen to a standing ovation when he'd stepped out from backstage, cheering for a good minute, and he'd been so stunned he'd almost forgotten that he'd promised Bitty he would dance his way to the seat. The song that had played, at Bitty and Shitty's choosing, was Bootylicious. They'd said it was in honour of Jack's OUT Magazine less-than-fully-clothed photoshoot, but secretly, Jack thought they just wanted to make him turn red in front of millions of people.
"Oh, it's been great so far. I've been blown away by everyone's support," he said, trying very hard not to look at the hundreds of people watching him. Three years into his NHL career, he still found interviews hard. At least these people weren't all waving cameras, mics and recorders at him – he just had to focus on Ellen, who was smiling warmly at him. "Our fans are amazing."
"And your boyfriend, Eric Bittle, how's he taking all this? It must be difficult to be thrust in the public eye so quickly."
Jack laughed. It was easier to talk about Bitty – they'd already discussed together what he could and couldn't say with the PR team, and he was glad to move the questions away from himself. "Don't tell him I said this, but I think he's loving the attention. He told me yesterday that his twitter account is, uh, popping, I think the word is."
A picture of Bitty and Jack from last summer's family reunion in Gaspé flashed behind their seats and Jack smiled at it – Bitty's cheeks were flushed with alcohol and happiness and he was leaning into Jack, who was holding a lemonade in one hand, his other arm wrapped tightly around Bitty.
"When you came out a month ago, the hashtag Zimbits trended on twitter for a four days straight—" now screenshots of fans' tweets were being brought up on screen, the crowd laughing appreciatively at the funniest and most suggestive ones "—but has there been much negative reaction?"
Shifting in his seat, Jack took a breath. "I'm sure there has been. I'm not really big into social media – I don't even have a Facebook account. But we knew there would be going into this, and the Falconers PR team has been great. Actually, everyone in the franchise has been. The whole team had seminars on how to deal with harassment, and we've really been trying to ignore the negative and focus on the positive, and keep playing good hockey."
Ellen nodded while the crowd clapped a bit.
"You've been playing for the Providence Falconers for three years now, you're second-leading scorer in the Eastern Conference, you've said repeatedly in interviews that your team is like your family… What was it like introducing Eric to them? Do they approve of him?" From anyone else, the question would have made Jack feel distinctly uncomfortable and defensive, but Ellen had a Southern accent and a kind twinkle in her eyes that calmed him. He tried to forget where he was and with whom he was speaking. Bitty had told him to pretend they were having coffee at Annie's, just like friends did.
"Bitty – uh, Eric, I mean, Eric and I met when we played on the same team at Samwell University, so he understands locker room dynamics. They can get pretty protective, but he can definitely hold his own. They liked him right away. And anyway, he baked every single one of them their favourite pie after I introduced them. It's hard not to like someone who bakes you pies."
"Sounds like a keeper." The picture of them from last summer came up again and the crowd laughed along with Jack.
"Definitely."
"And you've just bought a house together. Tell me about that."
Now there was a picture of the house on the screen taken from Bitty's twitter account – it wasn't big like some NHL players' was but still a good size, wooden shingles painted a soft yellow with white trim, a lawn out front, their black lab Sasha sitting at attention on the veranda. The photo, taken on the day they moved in, made him smile widely.
"Yeah. Eric just bought a bakery so we wanted something close to that. I'm always all over the continent, so it's nice to come home to. It's got a huge kitchen, which he likes."
"Sounds like a win-win!"
"For sure."
"So I thought, since you've only had this house for what, four months, that I'd get you a housewarming gift…"
"All right…"
An assistant had wheeled out a huge easel covered in a white sheet, and Ellen stood to pull it off, revealing an enormous print of his most revealing OUT Magazine photo – a shot of himself from the back in front of a grey background, naked save for hockey gloves holding his stick tight, looking over his shoulder – except where his face should have been, Ellen's was shopped onto it, a goofy expression painted on her features. The audience laughed along and clapped raucously, and Jack felt himself go red again.
Ellen spoke once the laughter had died down to tittering, "I was thinking maybe you could put this in your bedroom?"
The crowd laughed again and Jack felt himself grinning – the chirping had been bad before, but no one was ever going to let him forget this. It wouldn't surprise him if Shitty or Tater would try to steal it for themselves.
Jack was grateful that the interview was nearing its end – Bitty had told him that she always gave the gifts at the end – so he was surprised when she sat down again and looked at him intently.
"Thank you," he said, "I think it's just what we've been missing."
"I've gotta say before we go to commercial," Ellen said more seriously, "that you are very brave for doing this, and that I'm so happy you're happy. You've proven to a lot of people that sexuality doesn't affect a person's skill or talent or work ethic, and I'm sure now there are a lot of little boys and girls looking up to you."
"Yeah." Jack looked down at his hands. Shitty had waxed poetic about representation and positive role-models when he'd first decided to come out to the world, but it still made him feel awkward to hear those things about him. "I think, at the end of the day, you've just got to do what feels right to you. It's not easy – there are, uh, bigots out there, and I'm gone a lot so Eric's home alone with the dog so often, but you make it work, just like – just like any other couple."
The crowd suddenly went quiet while Ellen was nodding along to his stilted words, and he wondered if they had gone to commercial early, or if they had just noticed how bad he was at interviews, or—
"Hey."
He swung around quickly to find Eric standing behind his chair, smiling warmly at him, and the audience began cheering and clapping and stomping loudly, and Ellen laughed, and Bitty was there, Jack should have known, he'd watched the show before, he really should have known, Bitty was there, he hadn't seen him in a week and a half, and he was wearing a suit with a Samwell-red bowtie, he was just there, Jack didn't know what to say, so he gaped, opened his mouth once, twice, three times, and Bitty was laughing at him, with him, he was there, on Ellen Degeneres' stage, in California, not Providence, he was making his way around the chair, he was getting down on one knee, just there, pulling out a velvet box from his pocket, and Jack didn't know what to say, looked at Bitty, there was a ring, he tuned out the crowd which had gotten to its feet again somewhere in the space between seconds, he didn't know what to—
"Jack Laurent Zimmerman, will you do me the honour of marrying me?"
Jack just stared.
For too long, it seemed, because Bitty rolled his eyes after a beat. "Come on, sweetheart, don't leave me hanging in front of all these nice people."
"I—oh—" Jack was startled. Flushed. Heart beating. Head spinning. "I already bought you a ring!" he blurted out, then slapped his hand over his mouth while the crowd laughed. He looked up and was surprised to see people wiping away tears in their seats, and then over at Ellen, who was grinning fondly, hands clapped together, the silly magazine print still perched behind her.
"Is that a yes?" Bitty too was crying a little and Jack smiled.
"Yes, yes, of course it's a yes," he said, and hauled Bitty up to kiss him, kiss the hand holding the ring, kiss his cheek, his forehead, his lips, in front of the audience and millions of others at home. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and he barely heard Ellen shout out through it.
"That's our show for today folks, and don't forget to be kind to one another!"