Work Text:
Winter 2004 – age 14
Shane comes out to his mother one cold morning in Ottowa. She has mugs of green tea on the table. A performance breakfast in front of Shane. His dad has been at the office for a few hours already, some crisis with a spreadsheet that Shane doesn’t even want to hear about, let alone understand. His Adidas are sitting by the front door, lined up neatly, and his face is looking at the kitchen table.
Yuna cries a little bit, Shane cries a little bit, but before his eggs are even a little bit cold Yuna says: “I love you, baby, and I am so, so proud of you.”
Shane nods and says: “I love you too, mom.”
Yuna picks up her green tea and holds it in her hands. “And I am so happy that you know I will always be in your corner. That you felt safe telling me.” She wipes a tear from her eye and leans forward.
He’s at that age of teenagerdom where his stomach always feels a little empty, when his pants are always just a little bit too short, and Yuna feels something in her stomach clench a little. He’s growing up so fast, and she wants him to keep growing up.
“Honey,” Yuna says, voice quiet but strong. Not quivering. “Do you feel safe when you’re playing hockey?” She doesn’t mention the slurs that have already started making their way onto the ice, the horrible words she’s heard other parents say about not only the ref’s but also the coaches, the other parents. The other players. She takes a deep breath.
She can’t pretend that there aren’t problems with hockey. She’s grown up loving the sport, and has raised her son to love the sport. But right now she is pretty sure the sport wouldn’t love him.
Shane is looking at the kitchen table again, face a little miserable and food untouched.
“Shane, honey.” Yuna says. “Look at me.” She takes a sip of her tea and waits for her son to look at her. There are tears on his cheeks and all she wants to do is take her baby in her arms and promise him the world. “Do you feel safe when you’re playing hockey?” she asks again.
Shane’s eyes are glistening and Yuna waits. She lets the silence stretch out, the air warm in the kitchen. She reaches out and puts her hand on Shane’s hand, holds it tightly. Finally Shane shakes his head no once and Yuna sort of hums. “Do you want to keep playing?”
At this question Shane leans back and looks at her. “It’s HOCKEY, mom,” he says as if that is enough to answer her question. And, Yuna supposes, to a teenage boy, it is. Fuck, to a parent of a teenage boy. She can feel the outrage the question had sparked
“We’ll have to come up with a plan,” she says. A million thoughts are racing through her head, Major Juniors, college, open free agent versus the draft. She reaches out and lets herself wipe a tear off her son’s face.
~~
Spring 2004 – Age 14
Shane and his mother are sitting in a quiet lobby, the kind with magazines in the corner and a front desk that has a “press the bell for service” button and a clipboard with a sign in sheet. Yuna had carefully written her name and pressed the button. Shane is almost sulking in the chair, He *does not* want to be here, he’d rather be in calculus or even biology, neither of which are his favorite subjects. But his mom had insisted.
“Shane Hollander?” a voice calls out from the front and both Shane and his mother stand up. They follow the person into a large office with two chairs situated in front of her desk. There are diplomas on the walls and two large bookcases in the corner. Shane looks at her desk and takes a deep breath. In a coffee mug pushed off to the side there is a rainbow flag kind of propped up, leaning against the wall.
Shane has seen a pride flag before. After he came out to his mom, after his mom told Shane’s dad, two pride flags have made their way into the Hollander house as well. One that Yuna has hung on the wall in the kitchen, the other in Shane’s room. Every time he sees the flag in the kitchen it reminds Shane to take a breath. It reminds Shane of how much his parents love him. It reminds him of how his mom is trying to remake the entire world just so he’ll feel safe playing hockey.
“I’m Dr. Arnou,” the woman who guided Shane and his mother into the office is saying. She’s sitting behind the desk and looking at the two of them closely. “When you made the appointment you said,” she looks at the sheet on the desk, “that your son is dealing with homophobia in sports,” her voice trails off, inviting them to talk.
Shane kind of wishes he was short enough to swing his legs. Instead, he looks at the doctor and starts picking at the cuticle on his thumb. Yuna reaches out, mostly out of habit, and holds his hands still. “Yes, it’s part of a deal Shane and I made.”
Shane really wishes he could pick his nail but his mom’s grip is firm.
“Shane,” Dr. Arnou says. “Can you tell me about the deal that you made with your mother?” As she talks she is reaching into her desk and pulling out a rubix cube. She doesn’t say anything, just hands it to Shane and lets him feel it. Yuna lets go of his hand and Shane starts to spin the different sections of the block.
“I guess,” he mumbles, “She’s worried because I came out to her,” he twists the blocks a few times, watching the colors instead of looking at the doctor, as his mother. “And I play hockey.”
“Okay,” Dr. Arnou says. “I understand that hockey isn’t the most accepting of environments.”
Shane nods. “Yeah,” he turns another section on the rubix cube. “It’s actually pretty bad,” his voice is quiet. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t talk about the casual “cocksucker” and “fag” comments that get dropped every day, whenever someone is having a bad moment. If a puck is stolen, a check is a little harder than expected. Doesn’t talk about the hatred he hears so often that he’d begun to almost crawl in on himself.
Yuna takes a deep breath. “Shane is talented,” she begins. “More than talented enough to be on the Junior World’s team next year, aiming for the draft in 2008 or 2009.” Yuna’s voice is firm. “But I don’t want him to hate himself when he gets there.”
Dr. Arnou nods and writes something down on her papers. Shane keeps twisting the block on the rubix cube.
~~
Spring 2006 – Age 16
The living room table is covered in pamphlets advertising different colleges. It’s kind of a mess, colorful and distinctive, but chaotic to look at. It’s also a reminder of his choice.
He’s gone over his options countless times, in therapy, with his parents, with his Juniors hockey coaches (although they don’t know the full truth, just that Shane’s parents want him to have a degree before he goes into the NHL). Shane can enter the NHL has as a free agent after college. At age 22. He can be drafted and refuse to sign the contract and go to school and then pick his team. It's what they've been working towards, everything is leading down this path.
But now he has to find the right school. Samwell is currently his top choice, just outside of Boston, LGBT friendly, and they have hockey.