The Tales of a Professional Hockey Player

Chapter 42: Explain

~Eleanor~

Before I met Ben, my mother was very concerned. Well, she was as concerned as she was able to, meaning that she vaguely asked me the question as she was reading the newspaper on a Tuesday morning. I was eating my peanut butter and strawberry jam toast while scrolling through Instagram on my phone, and she basically threw her question in my face.

"Do you like boys, Eleanor?" She didn't even raise her eyes from her newspaper. That's how much it mattered to her. I dropped my phone on the table with a bang. My father gave my mother the angriest look I had ever seen on him, but she didn't see it. Her eyes were now on her phone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ended up asking at the same time that my father called out my mother's name. I knew my face was bright red. I could feel the blood rushing from my neck to my cheeks.

"Well, you're fifteen and you've never mentioned liking a boy, so we're wondering." I looked at my father, silently asking how he could have been involved in this. He shrugged with sorry eyes.

"Well it's not my fault they're all idiots or hockey fanatics," I said, using the same tone as my mother. Detached, but with a hint of anger. I got up from the table and threw my half-eaten toast in the compost bin. I felt too sick to eat the rest. She finally raised her head from her phone to look at me. "If I would have needed to come out, though, it would have been nice for you to at least pretend that you cared about my answer." I threw my answer in her face and left the room. I didn't say goodbye to them before leaving for school that day. I was angry with my mother for almost a week until my father told me that she probably acted this way to show me that it didn't matter to her if I was straight or gay. That evening, she knocked on my bedroom door. She was carrying a big box filled new decorations for my room. We spent the evening changing every frame, drape, and cushion even if the ones I had were perfectly fine. My room was now in the shades of light pinks and yellows instead of navy blues.

Not even six months later, I introduced them to Ben. My mother never mentioned this conversation again and neither did I. When Ben left last night around ten pm, I played back this conversation with my mother in my head over and over again. I imagine everything I could have said, how I could have reacted. I thought of how humiliated I would have felt to be cornered into coming out like that if I would have been gay. Then, I thought of Hannah. I thought of how long she had kept those feelings inside. I thought of how trapped she must have felt when I told her I was getting back together with Ben. I was certain she was reacting badly because she liked him. She had me convinced she wanted to go after him when she posted that picture on Instagram of the two of them at the ice cream parlor with Ophelia. But it wasn't that at all. She posted that photo to show me what kind of person she thought Ben was: a cheater who would do anything to hurt me again. All of that to convince me I should be with her instead. If she would have told me that, I would have been able to understand. But she didn't, she played games instead, planting all those ideas in my head of how Ben didn't change at all. When he did. He changed more than I ever thought possible. He became responsible and mature. I am not someone he will always have no matter what he does anymore. He knows I can leave at any point just like I know he can do the same. We don't take each other for granted anymore. That's why I am convinced it will work this time. We will work.

I told Hannah that when we went for dinner the other day. I tried to ignore the way she rolled her eyes as if she knew things I didn't. I didn't push it. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. It had already changed so much since Ben came back. Even with all that happened, I still want to try and fix things with her. Maybe it's selfish, but I don't want to lose her as a friend. I called her four times yesterday before Ben came back from his meeting. It went straight to voicemail every time. I called Matthew again this morning to ask him if he had had any news. It's Monday today, she was supposed to go to work. But she didn't.

"She took a last-minute vacation to visit her parents in Jersey," Matthew said when he called me back after asking around if anyone had seen Hannah.

"She blocked me, Matt. I can't even call her to say I'm sorry." I felt the tears forming in my eyes again.

"You don't have to apologize, El. She knew you weren't feeling the same way, she had already started grieving the thought of you and her ending up together." For a guy who swore didn't know, he sure had his advice lined-up.

"How do you know that?" My voice cracked at the end. I allowed the tears to rush down my cheeks. I heard him sigh on the other end of the phone before he chuckled lightly.

"I can't believe I'm actually going to tell you. I promised myself I never would, but here it goes. I loved you too, El. I loved you since I met you in that library in Windsor, but I forced myself to get over you when I saw you with Ben for the first time. It was clear you loved him to death and that you would never love anyone as much as you loved him." I felt as if he had just punched me in the chest. A chest that was already beaten down and cracked open.

"When did you actually get over me?" I knew it was mean of me to ask him to relive this part of his life, but I couldn't help but be curious. He chuckled again before answering.

"When I read your blog for the first time. The way you talked about Ben and about your daughter. I was happy for you instead of wanting to be in his place. That's when I knew I was over you. It also meant I could do what I did because I did it for you and not to find a way to be close to you." I was fully crying at that moment. He asked if I wanted him to come over, but I declined.

"I'm sorry if I caused you any pain at all." Thinking back to how I acted around him the first few times I saw him, I am well aware that I encouraged the development of those feelings. I was openly flirting with him back then, and it was wrong. I wanted to piss off Ben at the time, but it wasn't fair to Matthew to use him like that.

"It's fine. We wrote a best-seller based on those feelings, didn't we?" As of now, we sold about fifteen thousand copied of The Tales of a Future Hockey Wife, making it a best-seller in the USA and in Canada. It stills feels so surreal to think that fifteen thousand people have read the words I wrote. I installed the honorary plaques in what became my office since Ben moved out.

"Yes, we did. And I'll never thank you enough for selling this project to your editor." We hung up soon after that. I dropped off Ophelia at daycare. I wanted to do something that required my whole attention. I wrote a long letter to Hannah to apologize if I had led her to believe something could have happened between the two of us. I also told her I wanted to be her friend still, but that I understood if it was too hard for her.

I changed too. I am able to put myself in Hannah's shoes and give importance to how she's feeling. Before, I would have thrown myself at her, asking her to forget about it and be my friend again, like I did with Blair and Vivienne. I won't do the same mistake again. I'll let Hannah come to me when she's ready. She knows how I'm feeling. It's her turn to figure out what she wants. In the end, maybe Ben and I weren't mature enough to really commit to each other even if we convinced ourselves we were. We were too different back then. It took Ophelia and a year apart to make us become the people we really are meant to be. It allowed us to transform in someone worthy of the other's love. We now have the same priorities. We are less selfish and more considerate. I feel at peace with my decision of getting back together with him because I did it for me. I didn't do it for him, I didn't do it for our daughter. I did it for me because it was what felt right. It's the only reason people should get back together or stay apart.

I feel liberated after mailing my letter. I feel free. Free enough to print out the first half of my new book. I then pick-up Ophelia from daycare after her nap and head to Ben's house. I leave the unfinished manuscript on the kitchen table for him to read. It's a huge step for me. He never read something I wrote that was unfinished before. I trust him completely now. I am done with writing hidden messages in my texts, hoping for him to find them, so he would change into something he's not. He is who he is, and no one can force him to change. He is able to on his own.