Page 94 of Unwritten Rules
“I have a meeting with their PR people.”
“Okay. Is New York the first team you’ve played for?”
“No, the third. The fifth or sixth if you count playing in the minor leagues.”
“And you’ve told your other teams?”
Zach shakes his head.
“So, why tomorrow?”
“Could you hold on for a second?” Zach was in enough of a rush to get on the call that he didn’t put his hearing aid in. He retrieves it from its case and sets it in the shell of his ear. “I’m also hard of hearing.”
“Is there a better way for us to communicate?”
“Just don’t put your hands in front of your face, if that’s okay. And I just got traded, so I’m meeting with Union PR tomorrow.”
“I didn’t ask when the meeting was, Zach. I asked why tomorrow is different for you.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m getting that sense. Who else are you out to?”
“Counting you?”
And Henry laughs. “If we’re still on one-handed counting, then that’s a separate conversation. One that’s probably not achievable before tomorrow.”
“Yeah, probably not.” Zach lets out a deflating breath. Outside, it’s still summer enough to be light out, though the sun is beginning to fade. “I don’t want to tell everyone. Like that’d be front-page-of-the-newspaper stuff. But I feel like I need to tell someone.”
“You told me at the beginning of this conversation. So that’s your someone for today, if that helps.”
“It kind of does.” Because Zach just said it, easily, readily, in the cushy safety of his high-rise hotel room. Something that would be much harder in a meeting with Union PR. “I haven’t told many other people. Including my family.”
“Do you have a relationship with them?”
“Yeah, probably too much of one.”
“We’ll unpack that one later. Hold on.” Henry turns off the camera and audio for a minute leaving Zach to look at his icon—the same picture that was online: clean-cut, businesslike. Straight. He appears back on screen, holding a mug of tea. “Sorry about that. I was going to ask if you were out to your family.”
“I want to be.” Though his stomach drops as he says it. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that conversation.”
“Look, I think there’s a lot to the fact that you’re amped to tell a multibillion-dollar corporation but aren’t ready to tell your family.”
Zach swallows. There’s a glass of ice water that came with his dinner, and he drinks, reserving an ice cube behind one of his teeth, melting in a cold trickle down his throat. “You’re pretty good at this.”
“I also think that sometimes, with coming out, especially for my clients who’re a little older, maybe who aren’t out to their families or friends, there’s sort of an uncorking process. That you feel like you want to tell everyone, just because you haven’t told anyone for so long.”
“I guess that’s sort of how I’m feeling.”
“But each conversation, particularly with an employer, is going to be different. It’s not one conversation. It’s a lot of them, and we can work together to give you the tools to navigate the ones you want to have.”
“Okay, where do we get started?”
“Well, first, I was wondering—you just got traded today but called me a few days ago. So what motivated you to reach out?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After he ends the session with Henry, Zach lies on the bed for a while. It’s sunset, and there are city lights out his window. Miami was never really dark but didn’t have the same over-lit quality this high up off the street. It’s strange to think about his bed, his bed frame, his dishes, his balcony, his plants other than the aloe, all sitting in his overly chilly apartment, a thousand miles away.
