Page 56 of The Poster Boy
From the moment I met Diane, she’d made me feel safe and comfortable with her. There was just something about her that screamed Mama Bear. She was soft and kind, but I knew that she’d tear shit up if she felt she needed to.
“You know, sometimes you remind me of my mom. She was a lot like you. Kind, but didn’t take any shit.”
Diane’s eyes misted and she shoved my arm. “You’re not supposed to make me cry. It’s Christmas morning. But that was a lovely thing to hear. Thank you, Jay.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek, then shot me a look. “But you still didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m fine, Diane. I promise. Hockey is good. The game is kicking my ass, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I figure I have another five or ten left in me. Well, ten might be pushing it. We’ll see how the bones hold up.”
“I know you’re not out, dear, but I hope you’ve at least found someone special.”
“Not really. But it’ll happen.” The lie tasted like ash in my mouth. Diane quirked an eyebrow at me but said nothing. She sipped her coffee in a way that felt like an accusation. “Okay, so there might be someone, but I don’t know if it has a future. It’s not serious.”
She smiled at me over the top of her cup. “It must be a little serious, or you wouldn’t have invited him.”
Slumping in my seat, I let out a sigh. “Am I that obvious?”
“No, but I have three kids of my own, and I know how to read between the lines and see what they’re not telling me.”
It made me feel a little better to know that I wasn’t wearing a giant I heart Marek sign above my head, and that Diane was just really good at observing people. It did make me think maybe I should cool things with him before it became plain to people. The last thing I wanted was the fucking media asking me questions about my love life and not my hockey game. It had always irritated me that the minute a player comes out, everyone wants to know shit about them they have no business knowing.
Oh, you’re gay. Who tops? Do you want to get married?Have kids? Would you surrogate or adopt? They never ask straight men what position they prefer in bed, and for all they know, the straight man might like a little pegging action. And who were we to judge him if he did?
Nothing and no one was worth going through all that shit for.
Maybe when I was done with the game, I’d come out. Maybe by then no one would care when a player announced their sexuality. Maybe people would wake up and realize that it didn’t—and shouldn’t—matter.
Diane patted me on the arm again, then got up and started making her famous Christmas morning pancakes. She made herself another coffee, this time with a little more whiskey in it than the first.
“Is that your secret weapon, Diane?” I asked, glancing at the bottle.
“It sure is. Did you want some?”
“Oh, no, thank you.”
“Is Mom actually offering to share her Christmas whiskey?” Boone walked into the kitchen, scratching his stomach. He paused by his mom and gave her a one-armed hug and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, dear.” While Diane hugged him, Boone took the bottle of whiskey.
“If Jay gets some, so do I.” Boone laughed and grabbed a cup from the cupboard.
“Jay is a guest.” Diane tried to grab the bottle, but Boone kept a death grip on it.
“Jay has been here just as much as I have. He’s furniture at this point. Are you putting chocolate chips in the pancakes?”
“Some.” Diane gave up her half-hearted attempt to get her whiskey back.
“What were you two chatting about?”
“Jay was just telling me how he thinks he can get another ten years on the ice.”
“It’s not unheard of for a player to hit thirty-seven.” Boone added a generous shot of whiskey to his coffee then sat next to me at the table. “I plan to play forever. I’ll be on the ice at ninety-nine.”
“Okay, Superman.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“Don’t be a hater.” He grinned at me.
“Boone, honey, be a dear and go wake everyone up. They can get moving while I get the pancakes ready.”
