Page 62 of The Poster Boy
“Good game, Myers.” Jay leaned in and bonked his helmet against mine before skating away. A glance up at the stands showed a quiet crowd, already emptying out of thearena. Disappointment so thick I could almost taste it. Or was that mine? It was hard to tell when I was still so full of adrenaline.
Boone skated over to me and passed me the puck. “Your first goalie goal. Frame that shit, man.”
“Thanks.”
Boone hesitated for a beat, then leaned in closer. “It was Jay who made sure you got it.”
I glanced at Boone, who gave me a half a smile and a shrug. “Do with that information what you will.”
I’d do nothing with it because it was nothing. So Jay got my puck for me. It was an empty gesture. I didn’t want a puck. I didn’t want shitty half-smiles and lame head bonks when I did well, like I was some puppy who needed positive reinforcement.
I wanted Jay. I wanted him to care enough about me to want me back. I wanted to be important enough for him to tell the people closest to him about us, so at least we’d have some small universe we could exist together in.
After the game was a blur. I did my stint in front of the media but left when the questions started to veer away from the game and into my personal life. It was no wonder that Jay didn’t want to be out. The media vultures would sell their soul for bus fare if they thought it would help them go viral.
Andrew sat next to me on the bus back to the hotel. “You okay?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Not that I wanted to. But Andrew was a good guy, and he’d be a great friend if I let him get closer to me.
“Not really.” I went back to staring out the window.
He nudged me with his elbow a few seconds later. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I answered again. I was doing stellar at the whole letting people close to me thing. I took a deep breath and let it sigh out of me in a rush of air. “Have you ever overestimated your importance to someone? Like, you so badly wanted to mean as much to them as they do to you, but then you realize that’s probably not going to happen? Or is it just me?”
“Well, I mean, probably. I’m asexual, so it happens more often than you’d think. Someone tells me they’re okay with it, only for me to discover later that they’re really not okay with it and think my boundaries are flexible, not fixed. That tells me that I am less important to them than they were to me.”
“Sorry, man. That sucks.” It kind of made me feel like a jackass for being upset. Jay had clearly defined boundaries. Things he was comfortable with and things he wasn’t. I’d known this going in but hadn’t I done to him what people did to Andrew? Said they were okay with something, then proved through their actions that they weren’t.
“I’m not sure if that was helpful,” Andrew said, leaning closer. “You look like it was not very helpful.”
“No, believe me, that’s not the case. It's just… I’m sort of like the people you just described. People who knew the boundary was there and thought they were special enough to make an exception for. And I’m not sure what to do with that. Or what to do next. I feel like an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole,” he assured me. “People are just people. We’re all messy and fucked up and imperfect. If you screwed up, you can apologize.”
The urge to get shit-faced was only eclipsed by the urge to not feel like death tomorrow for another game. Unless Church made a miraculous recovery, I’d be in goal again for our next game.
I’d been so pissed at Jay for hurting my feelings as I busily tap-danced all over his rules and limits. We’d set them when we started messing around, and it wasn’t fair of me to get pissy with him at their continued existence.
Could I apologize? Or were things better this way? We’d reached a tentative peace during the game. I’d be the first to admit that it was hot as hell when he laid into Mats the way he did. But Jay would defend his goalie, no matter who it was. Not only was it his literal job, but it was who he was at his core. Jay was a protector. He’d swooped in to protect me from my downward spiral. It wasn’t the first time he’d dropped his gloves. It didn’t make me special.
Kelsey annoyed me with nonstop text messages after the game, demanding that I Facetime her. She’d always worried about me when people pulled shit like Mats did and crashed the net. Hockey was a rough sport and sometimes even being in net didn’t save you from injury.
I made her wait until I was safely back in my hotel room. We had an early flight the next day, but an early night wasn’t in the cards for me. Not with the way my mind wouldn’t stop racing. Stretching out on my bed, with my back propped up against the too-many pillows, I put a call through to my sister.
It hadn’t been until the trade happened that I realized how much I’d come to depend on her to look after my shit, even all these years later when I should have been a fully functioning adult.
“I saw that hit.” Kelsey opened the conversation with anger in her eyes. It was nice to feel as though she still cared, even if she wasn’t able to come over whenever she wanted and fuss around in my life. Maybe it was better for her this way because she looked happy. More relaxed, eventhough she was clearly worried about me and pissed on my behalf.
“I’m fine, Kels. My sister hits harder than Mats.”
“You bet your ass I do.” Kelsey shoved her hair out of her face. “How’ve you been, though? For real. I know we talked over Christmas, and you said everything was fine.”
“I’m sorry I fucked up and wasn’t able to spend the holiday with you.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you, Marek.”
“I’m okay.” I paused, taking a breath. “I’m managing. I let things get away from me, but a friend helped me out, and I have a housekeeper set up now, and meal deliveries. It’s been an adjustment, but I’ve got it under control.”
