36. Josie

36

Josie

V an's unusually quiet on our walk back to his house. Something's bugging him, but I'm not sure what it is. We had a great day. His family is wonderful, and they clearly love him. I'm glad he has that support system. My family may not be traditional these days, but I don't know what I'd do without them.

He seemed fine after dinner, and when I hugged his mom goodbye, she didn't seem to notice that her son was out of sorts. My plan was to stay quiet and let him come to me when he's ready, but his sullen mood hasn't lifted and he's barely talking to me.

"So, your cousin Ivy is great. Tommy, too. And the other one…Ivy's brother?"

"Declan."

"Yes, he's very nice, too. We talked about architecture for way longer than I would have thought possible. He just came back from Italy and I'd read a book on Renaissance architecture a few months ago when someone checked it in. We had a good talk."

Van says nothing. He just unlocks the door and stands back as I pass through. He follows me into his bedroom and starts to undress.

"Mind if I shower first?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Okay, I won't be long—wait, what?" He turns toward me, his brow pinched.

"Yes, I mind. What is going on? What upset you? I thought we had a really good day and now you're being all weird and quiet." My fingers find a hole in the sleeve of my cardigan and begin picking at it. I hate confrontation, but I hate this distance more. "Is it me? We've been spending all our time together lately, and now we're essentially living together for a few days. If you need some space?—"

He stands before me and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I don't need space, Jos. Promise."

His words are right, but his face tells me there's still something going on."Do you want to talk about what's bugging you?" I ask, sitting on his bed. He's in the doorway in just his boxers and while the view is great, I'm more interested in soothing his mind right now than ogling his body.

The ogling will surely come later.

"Nah, I'm good. Just gonna shower then maybe see if I can catch the end of Woodcock's matchup against Fenwick."

"Well, I want to talk to you," I say, proud of the way my voice only shakes a little.

Van pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to keep a headache at bay. "I know, Jos. And I'm sorry for being in a pissy mood. I just don't feel like talking about what's going on in my head right now."

"Can we talk about what's going on in my head?" Now is probably not the best time to bring up my own worries, but something tells me that if I come clean about what's bothering me, Van might decide to do the same.

He's on the bed and sitting next to me in two seconds. "Shit. Of course. Did somebody say something wrong? I had my mom tell everybody that certain topics were off-limits. She didn't give any specifics or anything, just told the whole crew not to poke around about your life. Did Pap ask you if your dad is a Phillies fan? He grills everybody new about their sports team preferences. But his memory isn't the best these days. I'm sorry."

"No," I assure him. "Nothing like that. And thanks, that was sweet. It's not a taboo topic, I guess, but it would have been hard to talk about them today."

"I figured," he says, threading his fingers through mine and giving them a squeeze. "So, what's wrong? Jesus . Did Ivy invite you to one of her sex parties?"

"What? No, definitely not. And now I'm kind of offended. Do I look like a prude?"

"You look like a sexy librarian, which is exactly what you are. And I'm not supposed to call them sex parties. She yells at me when I do that. She's trying to save up to buy a house, so she's got this side gig where she sells sex toys and oils and stuff. She started doing it last year and my Aunt Jamie bought like five-hundred dollars' worth of stuff. She said she was just trying to support her niece, but everybody's still giving Uncle Brian shit about it. The guy's not complaining, though, so maybe it was a good investment."

Van's trying to get me to laugh, to relax. And I want to do all that, but we need to say some things first.

"I worry that my life is too much. My schedule isn't really my own, and that's not going to change for the next…twelve years or so. I'm not saying we'll be together in twelve years or anything, just that?—"

"We could be," Van says.

"Could we? You're going to be in the AHL next year. You'll be traveling around the country. We don't even know where your home base will be, and I can't leave Maryland. I can't even leave Fernwood Road—not that I want to. It's just that there will probably be a lot more canceled dates in our future, however long it lasts. And there will be lots of days where all we can do is text or video chat. Your aunt wants to follow you around the country in an RV, and she wants me to tag along. But I can't. I'm not saying I won't go to your games. I will, but not as many as I probably should. And that worries me. I'm afraid you'll feel forgotten or get bored or that all these beautiful fans?—"

"Stop. The only beautiful fan I want is you, Jos. And yeah, I know it's gonna be different. And it might not be easy. I'll be away for weeks at a time, but I'll take three weeks of missed calls and messages over three years of silence. Trust me, Jos, hockey might take me to far off places, but it will never take me from you."

He seals his promise with a kiss and I have no choice but to believe him.

"But maybe you shouldn't be so quick to tie yourself to me."

His words are quiet, and I almost miss them at first. I want to laugh at the absurdity of what he's saying, but this must be the big thing that's been bothering him, so I keep my mouth shut and listen.

"I talked to my dad tonight. That never puts me in a good mood, but I was trying to shake it off. Then I saw you with my little cousins and it kind of sent me over the edge. Don't get me wrong—it was the sweetest, cutest fucking thing. You're magical, Jos. But it got me thinking."

He stands and paces and though I want to reach for him, I know that touch isn't what he needs right now. He's weaving his hands through his hair in that nervous way he does.

"I'm not like other people, Jos. If we—if I ever have kids, I won't even be able to read them a bedtime story without butchering all the words. I know I'm not the only person at school with a learning disability. I know reading and writing aren't easy for everyone. But it's not the same. Sitting in that lecture hall doing timed writes was like my own personal prison sentence. Nobody likes them, I know. But I would look around and everybody was doing it. They were writing the words and making them make sense and I was just staring at a blank page, or worse—a page with the most basic words in the English language because that's all I've fucking got.

"You changed a lot for me and I'm grateful. They're letting me use software now and things are making more sense. But it's still hard. When I'm done in May— if I'm done in May, I'll never step inside another classroom as long as I live. Hell, I'll probably hire Pete to read my contracts just to make sure I'm not getting screwed. Is that the life you want, Jos? Because it makes me feel like I'm not a partner. I'm just another person you need to take care of. Maybe…maybe you should find someone who doesn't need you so damn much."

Van leans his body up against the door frame and looks at me for any sign of hesitation. It feels like a test, and I'm okay with that. They happen to be my specialty.

I'm tempted to say that we're all good at different things. Or that I can't stay upright on skates. But that's not helpful, and not really an accurate comparison. Because though my athletic ability is limited, it's not necessary. Skating is not something everyone can do. It's not a given, or a basic job requirement. They aren't teaching it to kids across America.

It's not a foundational skill.

My inability to do it well won't ever affect my life.

The same is not true for Van. His disability is severe enough that it does affect his everyday life. It limits his choices. It makes him feel less than, and while I know that's not true, it doesn't change the way he sees himself.

I can't say anything to make it all better or make it all go away. But I can be honest. "I don't want anyone else, Van. I just want you." I hop off his bed and walk over to him, looping my hands around his waist and looking up into his eyes. "I don't love anyone else. I just love you."

Van lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He turns us so that my back is to the wall, then he kisses me soundly.

I feel like I've passed with flying colors. The feeling of his lips on mine is better than any extra credit I've ever earned.