Nate

I stare at the TV, waiting for Jesse to get up. How many times has he been knocked down? Fifty? A hundred? More? And every time he gets back up.

Mom grabs my hand and squeezes and I realises I’m muttering get up, get up, get up under my breath.

The game is stopped and they gather around to see if he’s conscious and the paramedics come running up the tunnel with their bags.

I’m frozen, but Mom jumps up.

“Come on,” she says.

Dad and I look at her like she’s speaking a foreign language.

“Where are you going?”

“Providence,”

she says. She bends down and taps my arm until I move, “come on, don’t you want to be there to make sure he’s okay when he wakes up?”

When he wakes up.

“Shouldn’t we stay and watch it on TV?”

Dad asks, “I’m sure they’ll give us an update as soon as they know…”

“You stay here, I’m going to make sure Jesse’s okay, , coming with me?”

I nod dumbly and let her lead me. I’m numb. Jesse going down on the ice and staying there even when his teammates tried to rouse him keeps spinning around in my head.

Please let him be okay, please please please.

I hear Dad get up from the chair with a resigned groan. He insists on driving and taking his car, though Mom’s is way more comfortable.

“You want speed?”

he says when she tries to argue, “don’t take an SUV.”

She concedes and sits in the back with me so she can squeeze my hand.

Luckily, at this time of the evening, the traffic is sparce, especially coming out of a college town and onto the highway. It’s not quite dark yet, and it feels surreal, rushing out of the house like this.

Mom keeps telling me Jesse will be alright and checking for updates on her phone.

I know when she has an update, because she sucks in a breath and makes a lame attempt to hide her phone.

“What is it?”

She presses her lips as if she isn’t going to tell me, “concussion.”

I repeat the word under my breath.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I think so… yes, yes, of course he is, people get concussions every day.”

“Yeah,”

Dad agrees, “I got a concussion once, some idiot didn’t put the scaffolding up right and a piece came right down and hit me on the head, I was out cold for two hours, woke up in the hospital with the worst headache of my life, puking my guts up.”

Mom gives him a warning look in the mirror and he shuts up.

She squeezes my hand, “honey, if they know he has a concussion then he’s awake and he’s okay.”

I nod. My lips are tingling. What is that?

“Oh honey,”

Mom strokes my face and I realise I’m crying.

You’re being ridiculous, I tell myself, he’s fine, why are you crying?

“I’m sorry,”

I say as Mom tries to hug me with our seatbelts on. I gently pry myself out of her arms and wipe my face.

“Nothing to be sorry about,”

Dad says, “you care about him and he got hurt, it’s a normal reaction. I’m on the edge of my seat every time your brother plays.”

“Shit, you’re missing Harrison right now.”

“Don’t worry about it, your brother’s like a cat,”

Dad chuckles, “always lands on his feet, and has good defencemen to take the hits for him.”

Once I know that Jesse is awake, the journey feels even longer somehow.

It’s dark by the time we pull up outside the hospital and when I look at the time, I’m shocked to find it’s midnight already.

When we ask where Jesse is at the front desk, a nurse informs us that visiting hours are over.

Harrison jumps up with a couple of the guys from the team and hugs Mom.

“He’s fine, a lot better now than when he came in,”

he says. He turns to the nurse and treats her to his biggest, most charming smile, “please miss, can my brother at least see him for a couple of minutes? He’s his boyfriend.”

The nurse takes a deep breath and gives Harrison that look women have been giving him since he was five. Like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Five minutes, but be warned,”

she says to me, “I don’t think he’s fully stopped puking yet.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Harrison leads me down the corridor of the trauma unit and I don’t realise I’m shaking until he looks down at my hand, “he’s okay you know? Concussions are common in hockey.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not like he has any brains to damage in the first place…”

I’m about to call him out when I notice he’s smiling and this is his way of joking about it and making me feel better.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“With the nurse, tell her I’m his boyfriend?”

“Because you are, aren’t you?”

“But I thought you were angry.”

He sighs, “I was, and, I’m not ecstatic about it or anything, but, for as long as I’ve known Jesse, he does seem to be a good guy, and so, if you like him, then, whatever, I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it, or be a huge jerk as Mom says.”

I smile.

“Here he is, in there.”

We’ve stopped in front of a door and I’m suddenly scared to go in.

“It’s only puke,”

Harrison says when he sees me hesitating, “if you’re gonna get married and shit, you’ll have to deal with more than that.”

“I don’t care if he’s puking, I…”

“He looks okay, as ugly as ever.”

I punch him in the arm.

“Go on,”

Harrison slaps me on the back, “I’ll wait with Mom and Dad.”

I knock and open the door. Jesse’s sitting up in bed with his head propped up on some pillows. His skin is pale, and there’s one of those kidney-shaped things on the table next to him full of what looks like puke.

He frowns when he sees me and tries to sit up more, but it obviously hurts and he winces.

“Don’t move.”

I rush around the bed and hold his hand to try and keep him still.

“, am I hallucinating? They gave me these painkillers…”

“No, you’re not hallucinating.” I laugh.

“How did you get here?”

“My mom insisted my dad drive us down here the second she saw you go down on the ice.”

That image still spins around in my head, making me shiver, even though Jesse is sitting right here now and despite a slight green tinge and a sore head, he’s fine.

“Your mom did that? For me?”

“Of course she did.”

“I’m glad you’re here, sorry about all the puke, who knew concussions made you feel this shit?”

I laugh and take a careful seat on the edge of the bed.

“You can get in with me if you want.”

“How many of those painkillers did they give you again?”

Jesse laughs and winces, “not enough.”

“Has someone called your parents?”

“Yeah, I think the doctor did, they’re trying to get down here, but I told them they don’t need to.”

I stiffen at the thought of meeting Jesse’s parents like this. But of course they’re going to drive right down here. If my mom was worried, I can’t even imagine how his mom must be feeling.

“This is gonna make my dad not want Sam to play even more.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“She looks up to me, and I keep telling Dad it’s not too dangerous for her.”

“I’m sure she can make her own mind up, your dad will just have to deal with it.”

Jesse gives a very careful nod. He looks like he’s getting used to the fact that his head hurts when he moves it. I wish I could make it better for him.

“Maybe your dad will be more understanding when you tell him you’re not playing hockey next year?”

Jesse snorts. “I doubt it. He’ll tell me this is just part of the job. A worthy sacrifice for a few brain cells. Didn’t have many to begin with.”

“Don’t say that, it’s not true.”

Jesse smiles. “I love you.”

I bend down and kiss him, “I love you, so fucking much.”

He beams.

When he glances behind me his smile disappears. Grip tightening on my hand.

When I turn around, a man and woman are walking fast towards the room.

“Is that your mom and dad?”

“Yep.”

I try to let go of Jesse’s hand, but he holds it tighter. “Please stay.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this now? You’re concussed and on painkillers?”

“I’m sure, just please stay with me.”

I squeeze his hand, “okay.”

His mom doesn’t even register me, she and his sister rush to the bed and his sister practically throws herself on him while his mom strokes his head, tears running down her face.

“Mom, I’m okay, it’s just a mild concussion.”

“Mild? You’re in the hospital.”

“Leave him be Lisa.”

Jesse’s dad has been staring at our hands clasped on the bed since the second he walked in.

“Uh, everyone, this is , this is my mom, Sam, and my dad.”

Jesse’s mom just looks so happy her little boy is okay, she smiles and nods at me politely. Sam looks up from the bed and notes our hands clutching and grins.

“Hello ,”

she says, hopping off the bed, coming around it to shake my hand. I switch Jesse’s hand for hers and try not to laugh when she tells me it’s nice to meet me so maturely.

“, could you give us a moment alone please?”

Jesse’s dad says. His voice is cold and his wife’s head snaps in his direction as if she’s just been scolded.

“Sure,”

“no, I don’t want him to leave,”

Jesse says. “We’re together.”

Sam grins and looks at him, then me, and back again, like she’s watching a tennis match.

“Like boyfriends?”

Jesse smiles, “yeah, like boyfriends.”

“Jesse, the nurse said you’ve taken a lot of painkillers, not to mention a bump to the head…”

“Dad, the shitty painkillers aren’t even touching the sides, and I’m concussed, but I’m not brain dead, I know what I’m saying.”

“This isn’t the time, or the place…”

“It’s never the time or place!”

Jesse says.

“Jesse,”

I touch his arm. He’s getting worked up and regardless of what he says, he still needs to rest. A head injury is serious, whether you’re awake and talking or not. “Please, you should be resting.”

“Listen to ,”

his mom says, her eyes flicker nervously at me over Jesse’s head. “Why don’t you rest and we’ll all come back later, okay?”

Jesse nods and looks at me. “Okay.”

His mom guides her husband and daughter out of the room and I stay behind.

“I’m proud of you,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, but don’t get worked up now, just rest and we’ll all be here when you wake up.”

His face looks pale and I laugh.

“I think I’m gonna be sick again.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really, hand me that sick bowl thing please.”

When Jesse stops puking and the doctor comes to look at him, I go out into the waiting room where our families are sitting awkwardly. The doctor cuts the tension by giving Jesse’s parents an update, letting them know he’s going to be okay, but that he’s going to miss the next few games. I only notice the coach sitting alone by the vending machine when he pipes up, “I wouldn’t let him play anyway doc, don’t worry.”

“Madison Square Garden,”

I say out loud.

Everyone turns and looks at me.

I feel my face turn bright red, but I repeat myself, “he’s not going to get to play at Madison Square Garden.”

Jesse’s dad gets up to go and speak to the coach and they talk with low voices by the vending machine after the coach buys Jesse’s dad a cup of coffee.

My mom scoots over and puts her hand on Jesse’s mom’s knee and Jesse’s mom starts to cry again.

“I know it’s silly, he’s fine.”

“It’s not silly,”

my mom says, “he’s your boy, you’re allowed to worry, it’s your job.”

Harrison calls me outside.

“It was getting way too emotional in there.”

I give him a tight smile.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m glad he’s not going to be playing next year.”

“That’s not what his dad thinks. I heard him telling Coach he’ll be playing Madison Sq in no time.”

I slouch against the wall.

“I could have told you dating a hockey player sucks.”

I giggle, even though I try to stop myself, I can’t. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the relief, or a mixture of the two, but once I start, I can’t stop.

“What? Oh gross, I didn’t mean like that.”

“I’m sorry,”

I can barely catch my breath.

When Dad comes out, I’ve got tears streaming down my face.

“Deal with him,”

Harrison says, “he’s drunk or something,” he pushes back through the revolving doors into the hospital and leaves me wiping tears off my face.

“You okay?”

“I was laughing, I don’t know why.”

“Normal trauma response, I once saw a guy with a nail right through his foot laugh his head off all the way to the hospital.”

I look down at my shoes and wince.

“He didn’t laugh when they took it out.”

He smiles. It’s a sad smile that says forgive me.

When he hugs me, I think about stepping back, but the smell of his jacket is familiar and comforting and reminds me of when we were kids and he’d carry us to bed after we fell asleep in front of the fire.

“I love you kid,”

he says, “and I’m glad you don’t play hockey.”

“You are?”

I look up at him, there are grey specs in his stubble and it’s weird to realise how long it’s been since I looked at him properly.

“Yes, my nerves can only handle one kid running around on blades, getting the shit beaten out of him.”

Dad pulls me close to his chest again and this time I let go and allow his familiar smell to comfort me.

At some point, you realise your dad isn’t superman. I guess you just have to accept that and see that he’s trying.

“We should start driving back soon, leave Jesse’s family to take care of him.”

I pull away and look up at him. “Dad, how did you feel when I came out?”

He sucks in a breath and runs a hand over his stubble.

“I don’t know, I guess I was… worried.”

He nods as if confirming this to himself.

“About what?”

“About your life being harder than other people’s.”

“But how would it be harder, I’m gay, not blind.”

Dad laughs, “it’s pretty stupid isn’t it? For people to care about that stuff, but they do, believe me, I’ve worked on construction sites all my life, I know how men talk, how they torture each other for being… different. I was glad at least that you’ll never be exposed to that world, and that’s another reason why I’m glad you don’t play sports.”

“Things are changing now though.”

“I know.”

“And it’s because people were brave and didn’t hide.”

“I know that son, and I agree with it. And I’m proud of you, you know that right? I don’t wish you were straight or anything like that, not unless that was the only thing that would make you happy, and I know that’s not true, you’re sure of yourself, and I like that about you.”

It’s weird to hear your dad say he ‘likes’ you. He has to love you, but liking someone is more of a choice, right?

“It does make it harder for me though,”

he gives me a wry smile, “how the hell am I supposed to kick your boyfriend’s butt for upsetting you when he’s built like a six foot five hockey player?”

I snort, “Jesse’s not six five,”

“no? well, he’s close.”

“Six two maybe.”

“I stand corrected,”

he laughs, “why are you asking me this, you know I’m fine with you having a boyfriend right?”

“It’s Jesse’s dad I’m worried about.”

“Ah, well, there’s not much you can do about that, Jesse’ll just have to work that out with his dad himself.”

“Maybe you could talk to him?”

“If I thought it’d make a difference, I would, I promise. But it’s between Jesse and his father. Anything I said would be unwelcome right now, believe me.”

I nod, “you’re probably right.”

He puts his arm around me, “come on, let’s go get your mom and say goodbye to Jesse.”