"Why didn't you mention that in interviews?"
"Because it makes me look like I'm blaming others for problems and as captain, everything is ultimately my responsibility." He takes a sip of his latte. "If the culture is broken, that's on me to fix. Doesn't matter if the coaches are part of the problem."
I go to speck, but no words are coming out, because from all the answers he would have given me, that one wasn’t the one. He isn’t the person I thought he was, or the one he shows everyone.
"That's... actually really mature."
"Don't sound so surprised."
"I'm not surprised. I'm just... reassessing."
"You keep saying that. What does it mean?"
I meet his eyes across the table. "It means I think I got some things wrong. In my article. Not everything. But some things."
"Which things?"
"The part where I implied you don't care about changing the culture. The part where I made it sound like you're just perpetuating your father's legacy. The part where I..." I hesitate. "The part where I reduced you to a stereotype instead of seeing you as a person."
He's very still, not breaking eye contact either. "And now?"
"Now I'm trying to do better. See the full picture. Write something fair."
"Fair would be nice." He breaks off a piece of his scone. "Can I ask you something? Off the record?"
"Depends on the question."
"Why did you really write that article? Was it just about exposing problems, or was it something more?"
I should deflect. Should keep this professional, but I'm tired of deflecting.
"It was personal. When I lost my soccer scholarship, I watched my team move on without me. Watched them keep hazing freshmen, keep letting star players get away with harassment, keep pretending everything was fine.And I couldn't do anything about it because I was injured, powerless, and forgotten." I fidget with my coffee cup. "So when I got the chance to write about sports culture, to actually have a platform... I wanted to make sure what happened to me, what I witnessed, couldn't just be swept under the rug."
"That's not about me at all."
"No. It was about the system. You just happened to be the face of it." That's not a lie, if you ask anyone on campus about hockey, his name is always the first said. Hockey and him just fit together and my way to make a point.
"That's fair." He leans forward. "But can I tell you my side? The real version?"
"Yes."
"My freshman year, I saw the hazing. Participated in some of it because I didn't know better. Or I knew better but I was too scared to speak up." His voice drops. "There was this kid, Trevor. He quit the team mid-season because the seniors made his life hell. I knew about it. I saw it happening and I did nothing."
"Carter—"
"That's why I pushed for policy changes when I became captain. Not because I'm some enlightened hero. Because I'm trying to fix my own mistakes. Make up for the times I was silent." He meets my eyes. "You were right about the culture being broken. You were right that people with power need to do better. You just didn't know I agreed with you."
We sit in heavy silence.
"Why didn't you say this in the interview?"
"Because admitting I was part of the problem makes me look weak and captains can't be weak. That's what myfather always said." He laughs bitterly. "Turns out toxic masculinity is hereditary."
"It's not. Because you're breaking the pattern."
"Am I? Or am I just performing change while secretly still being the same asshole?"
"You're not the same. I've seen it. Maya sees it. Your team sees it." I reach across the table, almost touching his hand, something I should not be doing. "You're allowed to be both things. Someone who made mistakes and someone who's trying to do better."
