Page 36 of Goaltender Interference

It shouldn’t have felt so encouraging, but there he was, still crossing the threshold. And here he was, still walking shoulder to shoulder with Matt.

Later that day, Pears sent him a link to an Instagram story. It was some random girl’s profile, a little video of Aiden and Matt sitting by the lake in Mont-Royal. In it, Aiden leaned forward, right at the end of their time there, when he’d rendered Matt speechless. Aiden stared at it before it minimized back into the chat window.

He could barely recognize himself in the picture, with the hair and beard and sunglasses. Jesus, he needed a haircut.

Pears added,Soup, what the fuck are you doing?

I needed a change of scenery.

You really think this is a good idea?

No, but it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had, either.

It’s pretty close, buddy.

Yeah. Probably. But I’m here.

You okay? Do I need to get my passport and come up there and give him a talk about your tender feelings?

No. It’s been a little weird, but it’s fine.

OK.

I know you’re worried.

You’re an adult, Soup. You gotta do what’s best for you. But I’m your friend, so I’ll be here to pick up the pieces.

Thanks, Pears.

And just know that I will kick his ass if I have to.

You don’t have to.

OK.

Every time Matt thought that he was starting to get used to having Aiden back in his life, something happened to throw him off and remind him that actually, it was a precarious position, and that any second the house of cards could come tumbling down. This time it came in the form of a phone call from his mother after dinner.

He’d been mostly avoiding his family since he got home from the trip. It was cowardly, but he hadn’t really wanted to try to explain Aiden to them. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Aiden that he’d had a bad couple of years after their breakup. If anything, he’d been downplaying what had actually happened. He’d shut his parents out then, too, until he couldn’t anymore. They hadn’t judged, they’d done all of the right things, but it had been almost as hard for them to see him in that state.

He’d been avoiding the phone calls, mostly, but there was a limit to the number of concerned voice mails he could scroll through transcripts for and ignore. Eventually, he had to pick up. “Uh, hey, Mom.”

“What’s going on, Matthew?” she demanded, blunt as always.

“What do you mean, what’s going on?”

“It’s not like you to avoid us like this. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

There was a delicate silence, like she was trying to decide how to phrase it. “Matthew, be honest with me. Miles told me about what happened in New York.”

“Jesus, Mom. It’s no one’s business but mine.”

“Is it?” she said. “It’s the same as it was back then. The secrecy. The lies. I know you’re a grown man and you can makeyour own decisions, but I’m your mother. I was there when you were struggling. And I have to look out for your best interests, too. And I have to tell you that whatever you think you’re doing is a terrible idea.”

Matt counted to ten and exhaled a deep breath. Years ago, when he’d seen a therapist regularly, they’d done a lot of work about boundaries and controlling your reactions to things people said. They’d done a lot of work about boundaries and controlling your reactions to thingsyour parentssaid. There was only so much he could do about the way his parents saw his life, especially because he still wanted them inhislife. The options were limited.

“Mom, maybe you could back up to knowing that I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions, huh?”

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