I could tell you that it didn’t freak me out, but I’d be lying.
For dinner, Mom and I went out for sushi. By the time eight o’clock came around, I was headachy and exhausted. My mother went back to her hotel, and I told her I was going to go to bed early.
Instead, I left a message for Rikker. Then I put on a Clapton playlist and lay down on my bed to wait for him. But even the desk lamp seemed too bright. So I got up to turn it off. When I lay back down in the dark, I listened to every footstep on the stair, hoping it would be him.
“Hey, G,” a voice whispered in the dark. A pair of slightly roughened hands skimmed my face. Then there were kisses dropped on my forehead. Two strong arms pulled me close. I wanted to hug him back, but I was too sleepy. The best I could do was to lean in close and breathe him in.
Rikker.
“I missed you today,” he purred. “And yesterday, too.” He stopped speaking for a moment, then. I think he was listening for a reaction from me. But a head-injured, half-asleep man is no good at returning affection.
“Actually,” he continued as if we were having a real conversation, “you’re all I can think about.”
Those words ought to have been comforting, but there was an edge in his voice that made me nervous.
“See, I know that you and I don’t talk to each other at practice,” he said. “And sometimes that whole setup gets to me. Okay, a lot of the time. But it was weird for me today. You weren’t there at all, and I didn’t like it. I kept thinking of things I wanted to remember to tell you.”
Rikker shifted further onto the bed, fitting me against him.
“So, let’s see,” he said. “Bridger McCaulley came back, but only for the post-season. He’s a little rusty, but I think it’s going to be okay. He has pretty good footspeed. Actually, I think his feet are faster than his hands. If you were awake you could tell me if you think I’m right.”
I pressed my achy head a little closer to his chest, to tell him I agreed. But I don’t think he caught my meaning.
“Big-D was an ass. But I guess I don’t need to tell you that. And apparently Pepé broke up with his Canadian girlfriendagain, so Bella was all over that. Also, she packed all your gear into a hockey bag. I think it ended up in Coach’s office…”
Rikker trailed off. Maybe he was finishing the conversation inside his own head. But his hand made slow circles on my back, and it felt great.
“This concussion thing sucks,” he said finally. “And I’ve been all depressed about it. I don’t like it that you’re hurting, and I don’t like it that I’m not allowed to help you.”
You’re helping me right now, I wanted to say.
“I’ve been thinking things through,” he said. “See, just like I know you can’t help being gay, I also know that you can’t help being twisted up over it. I never blamed you for that, G. Igetit.”
That was nice of him to say. But his sad tone made my heart stutter with fear.
“I just don’t know what todowith it, though,” he whispered. “I keep spinning my wheels, trying to come up with a solution.”
My eyes, which were still slammed shut, began to burn. I tried to concentrate on the warmth of his body in all the places it touched me — under my cheek, against my shoulder. I knew there would come a day when I didn’t have him anymore. Pretty soon he’d get sick of my bullshit and leave me.
Not yet, I begged him silently. My throat began to burn, too.I don’t want to be lonely again.
The silence beat loudly in my ears, echoing with all the words I could not make myself say.
“Maybe we’ll be okay, you know?” he whispered eventually. “Maybe things will get a little easier for us. You should visit me this summer in Vermont. If you made it a long visit, we could work for this apple orchard near Gran’s house. They do blueberries and peaches before the apples are ripe. The pay isn’t bad, and you get to be outside all day. We could go to guerrilla night again, or maybe clubbing in Montreal.”
The sudden change in topic was a little confusing to me, but I liked the sound of this.
“…But if you can only get away for a weekend, or something, I think we should go camping instead. That could be awesome. How does sex beside a campfire sound? Wait… the mosquitoes could be a problem. Maybe sex in a tent, then.” Rikker chuckled to himself.
“Anyway, that’s going to be my happy thought, until you’re better. If your mom is around all the time, I’m not going to get to see you. I know she wouldn’t mind me coming by, butI’dmind. I don’t think I can be in this room with you and have to watch what I say all the time. I don’t mind tricking a bunch of homophobic athletes, but I don’t want to lie to your mom, G. She’s always been good to me.”
The silence stretched for a moment, and I could almost hear him struggling with his thoughts.
“Ugh. Okay,” he continued. “Happy thoughts. Vermont. Drive-in movies. Dancing to bad music with you. As Gran would say, this too shall pass. Although I find myself saying that a lot lately.” He hugged me even tighter. “I’m going to go now, G. So sleep tight. Call me if you can tomorrow. Wait. I can’t believe I just reminded a sleeping person to call me. How ‘bout I call you? Yeah? It’s a plan.”
I found enough muscle control to grin against his shirt.
He set me back down on the pillow. Then I received a single kiss on the lips. It was soft and sweet, and I did my best to return it.
