Page 25 of Goaltender Interference

“What’s up?” Matt asked, during a lull in the conversation.

“I’m making dinner.”

“No, I mean...something’s up with you. You’re really jumpy tonight. Or sad. I don’t know.”

“I’ve just—” Aiden set the knife down. “Matt, I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life, you know? It’s been bad this week. Worse than usual. I even texted Ward for advice, and he told me that I don’tneedto do anything.”

“I mean, do you really need to do anything? Maybe Ward’s right.”

“Matt... Ido. I have to do something different. I’m fucking losing it. I really feel like I’m losing my mind, you know?”

“Come to Montreal,” Matt said, the words falling out all in a rush, like he needed to get them out before he could bite them back.

“What?”

Matt took a deep breath, and said, slower: “Come to Montreal.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I don’t know, maybe a change of scenery would do you some good.”

“I... Matt... Montreal is kind of a... There’s a lot of people who would recognize me. And you.”

Matt’s face was inscrutable as he shrugged. “You need to get out of New York for a bit, I think. My life’s in Montreal right now. I have a spare bedroom and the rest of the summer. Come for as long as you want. We’ll figure the rest of it out.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Aiden said, slowly.

“When has that ever stopped us, Aiden?”

The arc of their relationship flashed behind his eyes, compressed to a ten-second movie, scenes he couldn’t haveburned from his memory even if he’d wanted to. The first time they’d locked eyes in the handshake line. The first time he’d met Matt in an airport in the offseason and saw his entire serious face light up. The last time they’d slept together and Aiden had looked down at him and known it was the end and could feel the grief choking his throat. The last time Matt had shut a door in his face and said,Fuck you, Campbell, tired and so, so sad.

Aiden rubbed his hand over his eyes, suddenly very tired. Tired of his current life, of fighting it, of throwing himself against the walls. The weight of those quiet days, the lack of routine, the meaningless of it all crushed down on him. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. He had to close his eyes and think, again,There are no thoughts. There is no future. There are no thoughts. There is no future.The words, usually a comforting mantra, did nothing to quell the queasy tide of panic.

You have the rest of your life to figure it out,Ward had said.

He was so fucking tired. And here was Matt, offering him an out. It might have been a terrible idea, but—how was it any worse than what he was doing right now?

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll look at flights.”

Aiden bought a one-way ticket to Montreal. He packed a week’s worth of clothes and his travel kit.

want 2 get lunch tmrw?Gabe texted while Aiden was in a cab to the airport.

I’ll be out of town for a bit.

ok.

We can meet up when I get back, I just don’t know when that will be.

Gabe didn’t ask where he was going, and Aiden didn’t offer an answer.

It was raining in Montreal when his plane touched down that night, the kind of steady, misty drizzle that had the smell of hot concrete and asphalt lingering in the air for hours after. It was still raining by the time he caught a cab to Matt’s Mile End condo; it was still raining by the time the cab driver dropped him off a few blocks away, and it was still raining by the time Matt came down to collect him.

“Hey, you made it,” Matt said.

They stood there, frozen in place: even if there wasn’t a doorman watching, Aiden wouldn’t have known what to do. Whether he wanted to throw his arms around Matt and squeeze him until he could hear his bones crack or whether he wanted to punch him in the face.

“One useless houseguest, at your service,” Aiden said, finally.

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