Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Think of Meatloaf
Forest
I wake up but don’t open my eyes yet. I’m pancaked against Beck. A month ago, I would have found that deeply confusing, but the lanky shape of him is familiar to me now, and I let myself drift.
When I eventually open my eyes, I’m a little surprised to find myself in his bedroom instead of my own. Which means it’s happened again—I managed to take things further than ever with Beck.
Like sleeping over at his house.
And unprotected sex. Not that it’s a danger. It’s a precedent, though.
Don’t panic, dummy. You’ll figure it out. Beck is worth it.
I reluctantly extract myself from his warm body and sit up. It’s Friday. I think. I have a million things to do, and a very full bladder, and I don’t see my clothes anywhere.
While Beck sleeps on, I tiptoe naked to the door of his room and slip into the corridor. I avail myself of Beck’s tidy bathroom and contemplate my day. More interviews. Ordering bar supplies, and bookkeeping. Shopping for trucks online.
First step—find all of my clothing. I vaguely remember shedding some of it near the couch. I shuffle into the living room to find…
A man. On the couch. I freeze like Bambi in front of a semi.
Holy shit. What else can I fuck up for Beck? It isn’t even eight a.m.
The guy—Beck’s roommate I guess—looks up from the bowl of cereal he’s eating. “Dude. Great ink. You get that done around here?”
“Uh…” I gulp. “Yup. Thanks?” Then, as if I could actually undo this disaster, I take a step backward, like that gif of Homer Simpson disappearing into the hedge. But there’s no hedge, and I’m still naked.
“You know,” the guy says, raising another spoonful of cereal.
“I was wondering when Beck was gonna bring someone home. Dude’s been moping around here for weeks.
” He shovels in the mouthful and chews. “You’re the bartender, right?
From that place he goes every week?” More chewing.
“Cool. Just, uh, maybe grab some pants before you wander around? Not on my account, but my new girlfriend is coming by later to drop off groceries, and I’m in that stage when I’m tryna look classy. ”
“You have a girlfriend?” comes Beck’s shocked voice from a distance behind me. I think he’s still in his bedroom?
“Like, a living, breathing one?” Beck continues the conversation like he’s standing right beside his roommate. “And why are you home already?”
“Dude, yes!” The guy stands up and actually brushes past my naked body to move into the corridor.
He stops in the doorway of Beck’s room. “We got knocked out of the tournament at three a.m. And also Lizzie wanted to see me today. Could you, like, avoid certain topics when she’s here?
Don't tell her I live on gas-station pizza and energy drinks.
I want her to think I'm capable of adulting.”
“Okay,” Beck’s voice says, but it’s muffled.
“Now aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” his roommate asks.
I use my moment alone to grab various articles of our clothing off the living room floor. I hold them in front of my package, like some kind of Garden of Eden farce, and then I head down the hall.
Through the open door, I can see Beck is still in bed, but now he’s holding the pillow across his face, and this is why his speech is muffled. “His name is Forest. He’s... We’re...”
He yanks the pillow off his face and gestures wildly toward me, his face turning the color of a stop sign.
“We have a lot of sex. Obviously. I mean, you probably figured that out because, uh, his dick is hanging out.” He clears his throat.
“I’m gay. Surprise? I should have mentioned that sooner, probably.
But it never really came up in conversation, you know?
Like, ‘Hey Rigsy, pass the protein powder, also I’m attracted to men.
’” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even worse. “Are we... Is this weird now?”
Rigsy snorts. “Buddy, gotta fill you in on something—the weird don’t start here, ya feel me? I don’t give two fucks, though. When have I ever?”
Beck moves the pillow back onto his face, and says “Um…”
His roommate lets out a squawk. “No, really! Why dincha say something before now? I’m kind of offended. And I never call shit gay, and stuff. I know better.”
“Almost never,” Beck mumbles.
“No, really. Never!”
This conversation seems like it’s going to last a while, and all I want is my underwear.
Beck sits up in bed suddenly. “Actually, not true. You and Booger and Martinez were talking on the bus on the way to a Bakersfield game and you literally said, That’s so gay.”
“No way!” Rigsy scoffs, leaning on the doorframe.
“Way. I heard you.”
I sigh.
“Hang on.” Rigsy scratches his ear. “Were we arguing about Lovelorn? That reality show?”
“Probably.”
“Yeah, I was being factual. Brad and Isaac were vibing, and I totally called it. There was a make-out scene in the next episode, too. Total vindication.”
Beck blinks. “Oh,” he says softly. Then he lifts his pillow and covers his face again. “Thanks for explaining.”
Rigsy finally leaves, and I close the bedroom door behind him. “Beck,” I say quietly. “Can you breathe under there?”
“I guess.” He doesn’t move.
“I’m really sorry. I could’ve been more careful about getting dressed.”
He gives a grunt of disagreement. “This isn’t on you, and we both know it.”
I locate my underwear hanging off a dresser drawer handle. I slip them on and sit down on the bed. I put my hand in the center of Beck’s warm chest, spreading my fingers across his smooth skin. “Are you ever coming out of there?”
“I don’t see why I should.”
“Your save percentage will suffer.”
He yanks the pillow away and gives me a grumpy look. “I didn’t think Rigsy would be home before practice. Sorry you flashed him.”
“’S’okay. For what it’s worth, he didn’t really blink.”
“I noticed that.” He rubs his forehead. “I should’ve talked to him a long time ago. He’s not a bad guy. Just had no idea that Come Out to the Whole Team was on my bingo card for today.” He reaches for his phone and starts tapping out a text.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
“Ripping the Band-Aid off.”
Panic grips me. “What does that mean?”
His thumbs move furiously. “I’d already decided that when I finally came out to my team, I would do it on the group text. Just seems efficient.”
Oh God. “Are you sure?”
“Yup.” He gives me a calm glance. “This will only take a second.”
Jesus. I already knew Beck was fearless, but now he’s gaining hero status.
“There,” he says. “It’s done. See?”
He hands me the phone, and I take it with a sweaty hand.
Beck
Let’s play Two Truths and a Lie. I’ll start:
1. I’m super gay
2. I’ve never even tasted ketchup
3. I once got a penalty for arguing with the Zamboni driver
I laugh immediately. “Oh my God. That’s the most Beck thing I’ve ever read.”
He sighs, then puts his phone face down on the bedside table. “I hate talking about myself. Distract me with your hot body.”
I put my hand on his thigh and give it a squeeze. “Not with your roommate on the other side of that door.”
He smirks. “Ah, well. Then tell me a story. Who did you have to come out to first?”
“Oh. Hell. You sure you want to hear this? It didn’t go all that well.”
Beck grabs my hand with his. “Yeah, I want to hear it. You don’t talk about yourself very much.”
He isn’t wrong. “Well, the first person I came out to was my wife. Charlie was about five years old at that point, and she freaked out.”
“Wait, what?” He sits up straighter. “She didn’t know you’re bi?”
I shake my head, because he doesn’t get it. “Beck, I didn’t know it myself. Or I guess it’s more accurate to say that I hadn’t acknowledged it. She and I started dating when I was only eighteen. We got pregnant when she was twenty, and I was twenty-one. Then we got married.”
“Oh,” he says heavily. “Wow.”
I shrug, because this is all water under the bridge. “Took me a while to figure myself out. I’d always suppressed my attraction to men. And after I got married, entertaining those thoughts felt dishonest.
“But then I met a guy at work who’s a bisexual married to a woman.
He and I became friends. And one time when we were stuck at an airport for hours, he told me the story of his own realization, and it hit me like a slap.
I spent the next few months processing it.
Then I told my wife, because I didn’t want any secrets in my marriage. ”
Beck reaches up to absently stroke my beard. It feels ridiculously good. “Is that why you got divorced?”
I lean into his touch without even meaning to. “Eh, yes, but also, no. Things got rough between us. She asked a lot of pointed questions about whether I felt like our marriage was a trap. I didn’t—not in the way that she meant. She kept asking me if I was tempted to cheat.”
Beck groans. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it wasn’t. But she wouldn’t let it go, and she ended up asking for a divorce.
But wait for the punchline—a few years later, she went into therapy and ended up apologizing to me.
Turns out she was the one who felt like getting married so young was a trap, and I just sort of opened the door on all her issues. ”
He strokes my beard again. “And what about your parents?”
“Well, it’s complicated.” I let out a sigh. “They’re not homophobes, but they hate that my marriage blew up. They think it’s probably my fault somehow, and they think buying a queer bar is some kind of extended midlife crisis. They don’t say any of that out loud, but I hear it anyway.”
“Aw, Forest. How come you never told me any of that?”
I laugh. “Beck, believe it or not, I’m more like Rigsy than you know—still trying to make you think I’m cool.”
He smiles, and then I find myself getting hugged by six-foot-three inches of hockey goalie. It’s awesome, honestly. My arms wrap around him without my permission, and we just hold on. I take a deep, slow breath, memorizing the scent of his skin.
“Beck,” I whisper. “Were you out to anyone before today?”
“Oh, sure,” he says. “My mom and her new family. Also my high school coach. Just not anyone in Colorado.”
“Your mom has a new family?”
“Yup. She was single when she got pregnant with me on a one-night stand in the Netherlands.”
I pull back an inch and eye him. “Your father was Dutch?”
“Probably.” He gives me a sneaky smile. “There’s some Dutch guy out there with a weird sense of humor and good hand-eye coordination.
She never even knew his last name. But that’s the wildest thing my mother ever did.
She’s been making up for it ever since with an aggressively normal life.
Which doesn’t overlap with mine very much. ”
“Oh,” I say as my heart sags. I’ve always sensed a deep-seated loneliness in Beck, and I hate knowing that it was true.
“She’s not cold, exactly. Just tuned into a different channel. Like she’s living in a different sitcom where I’m the quirky neighbor who pops in every few episodes.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just kiss his neck. His phone buzzes with a text. And then another one. And another.
“Do you want to look?” I ask as the phone keeps up the buzzing.
“In a minute,” he says, scraping his stubble against mine. “How bad could it be, really? I’m already the team weirdo.”
“You’re a goalie,” I remind him. “It’s your job to be weird. Your obsession with new wave music from the Eighties is totally on brand.”
He snorts, and then he lets me go. He picks up the phone, which is still intermittently buzzing like a frantic mosquito. He unlocks it, and we both lean in to see the screen.
Dietz
No way on the Zamboni thing. That's not even possible. Zamboni driver isn't an official
Rigsy
Bro. Beck would 100% argue with the Zamboni driver. I’ve seen him yell at a vending machine.
Martinez
Wait hold up. He’s NEVER had ketchup?? How is that even physically possible
Hennie
@Martinez the Zamboni thing is definitely the lie. You can't get a penalty from arguing with ice crew
Rigsy
But seriously Beck what do you eat fries with??? Mayo like some kind of psychopath?
Kowalski
My cousin got a bench minor for chirping the timekeeper once so maybe Zamboni guy could take it up the chain of command?
Martinez
No but think about it - ketchup is in EVERYTHING. Thousand island dressing. Cocktail sauce. BBQ sauce has ketchup
Rigsy
Those don't count as ketchup Martinez
Hennie
They totally count. If he's never had ketchup he's never had Big Mac sauce
Martinez
EXACTLY. Beck you telling me you've never had a Big Mac???
We both look up at the same time, and there’s a question in his blue eyes. “Not a single one of them questions the gay thing.”
“Uh, nope. Not yet.”
The phone buzzes in his hand, three more times.
“Why do you think that is?” he asks. “Do I really want to know?”
I laugh. And then we return to the screen again.
Kowalski:
Still think the penalty thing is possible. Ice crew has more power than people think
Hennie
I'm googling Zamboni driver penalty rules brb
Martinez
Beck answer the Big Mac question this is important
Martinez
OH SHIT what about when your mom made meatloaf? Ketchup glaze Beck. KETCHUP GLAZE.
Coach
This is the dumbest conversation you’ve ever had. And ketchup is life.
Hennie
Coach HAS ENTERED THE CHAT
Gord
Guys, hold up. Not one of you thinks the gay thing was the lie?
Coach
Nobody thinks that, Gord. That’s the motherfucking point.
Gord
Ohhhhhh. Got it.
Coach
Get off your phones and get to practice! We’re doing 3-on-2 drills today.
Rigsy
Beck? You going to put us out of our misery, here? Or do I have to come in there? Assuming your bedroom door is closed for a reason.
Rigsy
Also, the coffee is ready.
Beck picks up his phone and I watch over his shoulder as he types a response.
Beck
Ketchup is disgusting, which I know because I’ve tasted it. Unwillingly. It’s a bullshit condiment.
Martinez
I KNEW IT. But you like mustard? That’s weird.
Beck
Mustard is elite. It knows what it is.
Dietz
SO THE ZAMBONI THING IS REAL
Beck, looking slightly shellshocked, puts down his phone. “That could have gone worse.”
“Yeah, it could.” I put a hand on his warm stomach. “We should get up. But… the Zamboni thing?”
“It happened in high school. I wouldn’t shut up about the shitty ice in my crease. Guy was so sick of listening to me bitch that he got the ref to penalize me.”
“Asshole.”
He grins. “Totally. I’ll put your coffee in a to-go cup. Milk, no sugar?”
“Thanks.”
He grabs a pair of briefs from a drawer and steps into them while I admire his ass. Then he strides out of his room in search of coffee, and I watch him go.
Beck is goddamn fearless. I’m proud to know him. I might even be falling for him.
I just don’t know what to do about it.