Work Text:
2004
Dear Fabian,
I don’t know if you were being serious about wanting me to write to you (you probably weren’t, in which case feel free to ignore this and we can pretend that it isn’t awkward) but I wanted to try, just in case you were. I thought you were really nice when we were billeting together. I would like to be friends - I’m just not very good at making them.
It’s already weird having been traded away. I didn’t realise how much I’d become used to mornings in your house until now. I didn’t realise how much I’d miss hearing the sound of you practicing your violin in the other room. Which is probably odd for me to say, but I like hearing you play. You’re very good. It helped a lot when I was stressed over hockey, because I knew that you were also there, just doing you’re own thing and being you, if that makes sense? I think a lot about the ferry after your conservatory You played very well at the conservatory. I can’t believe more people don’t know how good you are.
I have no idea what you’re supposed to write in a letter, if you can tell. I’ve never tried to write to anyone before but it’s nice. I really hope that you don’t mind. I think I’ll leave it here for now - I really don’t want to bother you, if you weren’t serious - but you have my address now. I’d give you the phone number for the house I’m billeting in at the moment, but I don’t think they’d like me using their phone very much, except to call my family. Not to presume that you’d want to call me or anything. Just. Yeah.
I really hope that you’re doing well,
Ryan Price (the hockey player)
Dear Ryan Price (the hockey player),
Of course I was serious about writing to you!! You should know by now that I don’t say things I don’t mean - not to pretend to be nice or to be polite or anything like that. Besides, I never offered to keep in touch with any of the other hockey players before. None of them were you. I don’t think you understand how different you were to all the rest of them. You were the only one who never looked completely through me just because I didn’t get hockey.
I miss you too. I’ve gotten used to having you around the house. Probably, in no time at all, we’ll be billeting some other hockey fucker but he’s not going to be you, so I’m prepared for it all to be intolerable again. I hate having to share my space with strangers. At least you were respectful about it.
What’s your new billeting situation like? Are there other people your age? Are you making friends? I can’t help but be a little jealous that thy’re getting to have you all to themselves.
I hope that one day we might see each other again. Maybe we’ll just bump into each other - on the street or in a shop in some big city, both of us happy and successful and free in life. That’s the dream, isn’t it?
Hoping you are well!
Fabian
P.S. Please don’t feel the urge to be so formal in your next letter! I can hear it in my head in your voice and you sound terrified. There’s nothing you can say to me that’ll put me off replying - and if there is, I’ll tell you instead of just ghosting you. That’s how friends work.
Fabian,
I like the idea of friends. And I especially like the idea of being friends with you. I’ve not had many before, but I like you a lot. I’d like to have you as a friend and I’ll do my best not to mess it up.
My new billeting family are nothing like yours. I don’t think they’re entirely happy to have me here, or - at least - I’m not at all like what they expected I was going to be like. I think they were expecting me to live and breathe hockey, but it’s all making me quite nervous at the moment. That’s not very good for a hockey player staging with a hockey family.
It’s only me, the coach and his wife. They don’t have kids and I think that they chose that because they didn’t want someone else underfoot, the way that I am now. Your family made me more welcome than I ever could have asked for. I don’t think I’d realised how much was going to change now that I’m no longer living with you guys. I hope that you’re all well. Please say hi to everyone from me.
What have you been getting up to since I last wrote to you? I want to know everything. I haven’t been getting up to much - mostly unpacking, playing hockey, and exploring my near neighbourhood. Nothing that would excite you. Or me, really, I’d like to live vicariously through whatever you have going on right now. What’s happening with your music? Are you going to play another conservatory soon? I wish I could hear it.
- Ryan
2005
Ryan,
I GOT INTO UNIVERSITY!
It’s official! I’m going to the University of Toronto in the fall! You don’t understand how excited I’ve been ever since I got the letter. I can’t stop reading it, over and over, just in case it changes what it says in the time that it spends folded up in my pocket. I’ll be studying music; this is quite literally everything that I have ever wanted and it’s right there, at the tips of my fingers for me to reach out and grab.
My parents have even offered me their congratulations, though I can tell that they don’t really know what to do with it all. They don’t understand what sort of jobs that I’m going to get with a music degree. I’ve explained to them that, you know, I want to pursue a job actually in music, but I think they’re worrying that this isn’t realistic and I’m going to be stuck with my music degree, no prospects and working in a coffeeshop. Even my sisters are telling me to think carefully about future planning. It’s nice to see the confidence that they all have in me.
But I really do think that this is going to be a brilliant opportunity for me. It’s a fresh start. I’m going to be making music, which I love. I’ll be out of that house - maybe not living with them will help my family be a little more tolerable. I’ll make friends, have a roommate, get to live in a city where I can be myself without feeling like my every move is going to get reported back to my parents.
I’m moving in three weeks - all my stuff into a rental van to make it to the dorms. Then I’m on the home stretch. I hope that you’ll keep writing to me though. My new address is in the envelope.
With joy,
Fabian
Fabian!
You got in! Words can’t say how happy I am for you - I know that you’ve been waiting for a very long time for this, and there’s no one who deserves it more than you. Toronto won’t know what hit it when you get there. You’ll take the whole city by storm - I just know you will.
I can see you in Toronto already. I know you’ll make the most of it. I can’t wait to hear about all the adventures and trouble you’ll get up to, as well as all the friends that you’ll make. You’re one in a million, Fabe. People are going to see it. I just hope you still have time to write! I know you might not, so no worries.
I hope things get easier with your parents. I think, if they ever stop to listen to what you do, they’d be really impressed with how talented their son is. I know I am. Proud of you, that is.
Excited to hear from you next,
Ryan
[A postcard. An old, grand building. Redbrick walls climb high against the backdrop of a blue sky, with a tower over the entrance punching up and into the lazily drifting white clouds. The teal-ish tiled roof gleams in the sun. A green lawn tumbles out in front of it, lush and wide, showing off a sense of grandeur and plenty.]
On the reverse:
Here’s your first look at my university! Got this in a gift shop and wanted you to see it. I really do wish you were here. I think you’d like it.
Yours,
Fabian
2006
Fabian,
Do you think about it too? About that time on the ferry when we nearly kissed? I’d never kissed anyone before. I wanted nothing more than to lean in, or for you to lean in, and for us to kiss like they do in the movies. I wanted to be happy. I was so scared.
I kissed a boy the other day. He’s the first boy I’ve ever kissed. He wasn’t you.
I think I’m going crazy. I haven’t seen you in years. We send letters back and forth but all I can think about is how much I miss you.
I can’t miss you. I shouldn’t. It isn’t fair, not to you, to be carrying this around with me like it’s mine to carry. It’s not. It’s not, but I think I -
2008
[A postcard. The Las Vegas skyline is etched across it, lit up with red and white lights. ALL TO PLAY FOR, it reads, with a set of playing cards off set to the right of the words.]
On the reverse:
At the NHL draft and waiting for my future to be decided. By the time you get this, I’ll be off to some far distant team. I hoping for Toronto.
With hope
Ryan
Dear Ryan,
You’ve been drafted! I’m so happy for you. I saw all the work and sacrifices that you’ve made for this dream, and it’s only ever been a matter of time before you make it. I didn’t manage to watch the draft (is that something you can even do?) but my parents called me the very next day with the news, and I’m very excited for you.
I’m sure that you’re busy, but I hope you’ll make the time to write me back. I want to hear all about this new adventure.
I’m thinking that I might watch a hockey game, for you. I’ve avoided it for so long, and you know it’s not something that really interests me at all. But you’ve always been so good with my music, and you came to see my conservatory, and I want to return the favour. If you write back to me when your next game is, I think I’ll watch it. Besides, I like the idea of seeing you in uniform. Sounds fit.
Just know that you’re the only person I’d make this offer for. I still refuse to like hockey - it’s a deeply toxic culture and I have self-respect. But I’ll watch it for you, and for what I know you’ll bring to the sport. It’ll be different after you, I’m sure.
With sporting fatigue,
Fabian
Fabian,
Thanks for your congratulations. They’ve come at the right time, I think. Perfect to remind me what I was doing this for, because I think it’s sometimes difficult to remember. I’m beginning to understand why you find hockey difficult to stomach - why you say that it’s harmful and toxic. I never used to see it. It was something that I loved, but now that I’m actually in it - meeting my team, in the NHL, with all the expectations that come with it… I feel like I’m being pushed into a game that I’ve never played before. Everyone looks at me and sees the sort of role that they think I’ll relish on the ice but it’s nothing like what I want to do at all.
What I mean is: don’t watch a game. Please. Please don’t watch. I like that you don’t think of hockey when you think of me. I like that I cn write to you and read what you have written to me, and still be simply Ryan. If it wasn’t for that, I could almost believe that I’d stopped existing for everyone else altogether. Which is stupid and untrue but it’s how I feel I can’t help it.
I’ve already met the team and don’t know how I’m supposed to fit in with them. I’m not like any of them and they know that I won’t be able to fit in, no matter what I do. I want to fit in. I want to play this game. But I’m starting to think that I might never win at it.
Then you write to me and I remember what I’ve done to get to this point and all the years of working that’s gone into getting to this point. I remember all the people - like you - who have faith in me. I’m going to make this work. I have to make this work.
With determination,
Ryan
2009
Ryan,
Once again my parents are passing on news about your hockey career to me. I know you didn’t want me to be involved much in it but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. It can’t be easy, being traded so suddenly and so soon. I know that you were expecting things to settle and to stay there for at least a few seasons. I can imagine how terrible it must have felt to heard the news.
I can’t believe it. I mean, I don’t understand hockey but I also don’t understand how anyone could pass up the opportunity to have you on their side. The type of man you are… No, I don’t understand it at all.
The good bit of news they sent was that you’re being traded, which means that you have another team lined up already. I know that it must be disorientating having to high-tail it off across the country, but I hope that you’ll be able to use this for a fresh start and maybe find the sort of hockey that you wanted to play in the first place. Maybe this will be a good thing.
But that’s a shit thing to say when all your plans have been thrown on their head the way that they have so I won’t. All I’ll say is that I’m thinking of you, and I believe in you, and I’d like you to write me back. Usually, I understand that you might be busy - but this time I need to know that you’re okay.
Waiting for you,
Fabian
P.S. This team kit looks better on you. The colour of the jersey really brings out your eyes.
[A postcard. The front is divided into four equal quadrants. One of them is a generic city skyline, the buildings little more than dark shadows silhouetted against the setting sun behind them; the second is a shot of a bridge spanning across a glittering river; the third is a park scene in the Autumn, with a squirrel darting across the leaf strewn grass and the trees crowned in a blaze of orange and gold and red; and the fourth shows a local landmark, not notable at all but still the sort of thing that tourists might take selfies in front of.]
On the reverse:
A fresh start!
- Ryan
2010
Dear Ryan,
It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for everything. For ignoring the letters that you’ve been sending, or writing back with lie after lie after lie. The truth is that I think I’ve fucked it all up. I’ve ruined it and I don’t really know if this is something that I can fix.
The orchestra wasn’t for me. I thought it would be. This is everything I have been working for since before we even met. Music is the one thing that is supposed to make sense. But I was there. I was playing. I was being appreciated for what I love doing. And I was miserable. The whole thing was miserable. I swear I tried to make it work, but there was no soul or joy in that music. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t play music like that.
I quit and I don’t know what this means for the rest of it. I wasn’t supposed to quit. I was supposed to play music and make something of myself, prove to my parents that I’m worth something more than all those NHL dreams they had for me, and live as freely and unapologetically me as I want to be. But I couldn’t stick it.
And now I’m in Toronto and I don’t really have a plan. I being hired for the odd gig or so, to help me make rent, but it’s nothing like what I expected. I don’t know if I can do this. I want to do this. I don’t know how to fix it all so that I can do it.
I think I’m scared - because if I’m happier when I’m not achieving my dreams, what does that say about me? What does that say about how important everything I’ve given up actually was to me?
Please visit. Please.
I wouldn’t ask if I thought I could get by without - but I want to see you. Ryan, sometimes I think you’re the only person that I tell things to. I want to see you, and I want you to see me so that I can know I’m still the same person I’ve always been. So I can know that it’s okay if I start doing this one thing for myself, even if it’s never been in my plan. I miss you. I want to see you. Please come.
With love,
Fabian