Resolutions
December 31, 1995
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
11:28 pm
I should have just stayed in Portland for the holidays. My parents begged me to come home, so I left my team to spend two weeks with my family. Now I wish I'd at least gone home before New Year's Eve.
Dick Clark is horrifically boring on a night when everyone else I know is partying. Meanwhile, I'm at home, all alone, with no alcohol and a severe craving for nicotine. There are cigarettes in my coat pocket, but my parents would kill me if they caught me smoking. I flip through the stations until they blur into an annoying celebratory fog. It's only 11:30, so I decide to end the year in the best possible way I can, given my current situation.
I pull my jacket on and head out to the back porch. I suck in a breath as the cold air hits me; it’s a clear night, so frigid it hurts to breathe. The moon casts a blue glare on the snowy ground, making the shadows even darker. I lift a cigarette to my lips, the flame of my lighter warming my hand for a moment while I wait for the tip to glow orange. A long, deep drag later, and a cloud of acrid, calming smoke fills my lungs. Side effects or not, this is the perfect way to end the year.
I blow out a steady stream of smoke, my ears perking at the sound of music next door. My parents mentioned something about one of the Oilers moving in, but I was too far away in Portland to find out who it is. Now I wonder just what's going on in there.
***
I should have just gone home for the holidays. My mom and dad asked me to, but Todd promised more--a few days of lying in bed, having sex, and exchanging gifts. Instead, I spent Christmas at home, in front of the TV, with a bottle of wine.
New Year's Eve isn't looking much better, only now I have a flute of champagne, and this time I'm forced to watch Todd and Caroline, his girlfriend, snuggling near the fireplace. I finish my drink and search out the bottle to refill my glass. I glance over at Todd, still laughing softly at some inside joke with Caroline, and I decide I need some fresh air.
It's freezing outside, but it feels good, even though I don't have a coat on. It's beautiful out, and I'm suddenly wishing there was no party at all, no Caroline, just Todd and me celebrating the new year with a kiss and some murmured resolutions.
That's what I get for falling for a guy with a girlfriend. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now, after Scott back in Cape Breton. Back then, Thornton spent every night with a different girl--and on the few nights his bed was empty, he came to mine. I hated myself then, hated the person I'd become, his puppy dog, his back up plan…his whore. And yet here I am again, heartbroken because I'm letting someone use me, making me fall for him when he has no intention of returning the feeling.
A flash of movement catches my eye, and I notice a flicker of light from the porch next door. The moon is bright, making the shadows around him seem even darker, but I can see just a bit of his face from the glow of his cigarette. He's watching me, that much I can tell, and I nod in acknowledgement.
"So you're the Oiler who moved in?" he asks, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
"Nope. Marchant did. I'm just here for his New Year's Eve party."
He steps from the porch, leaning against the fence between the two houses, and asks, "If you're here for the party...why are you out here?"
***
The question is simple, but from the look on Maltby's face, it's obvious that his answer is anything but. After a long pause, he goes for the easy way out. "I just needed some fresh air. I had too much champagne," he holds up his half-empty glass as proof.
"Right," I say as I light a new cigarette, taking a long drag.
He steps towards the edge of the porch, staring down at me. "You do realize how bad those things are for you, right?"
I roll my eyes and blow a puff of smoke towards him. "Aww, worried about my well-being, are you?"
"Look," he pauses, waiting for me to fill in my name.
"Andrew."
"Look, Andrew, it isn't just you. Secondhand smoke is dangerous for anyone around you."
I snort, looking around, "Yes, because there are just so many people out here who are breathing it in..." I trail off then, because the door behind him opens and Todd Marchant slips out. Without a word--nor a glance in my direction--he walks over to Kirk, and the next thing I know, they're kissing.
***
Shit.
Not that I haven't wanted Todd to kiss me all night, but I really didn't want an audience, especially the obnoxious kid next door. I try nudging him away, but that only gets me pushed harder into the banister while he deepens the kiss.
"Todd," I whisper, turning my head, "Stop..."
"Shh," he shushes me, but I push harder until he stumbles back. "What, are you pissed off? Its not like I planned on Caroline being here."
I doubt that, but I don't voice my concern. I don't want to get into this right now, not with someone watching. "It isn't her, I just don't want to do this right now."
"When the fuck do you suggest we do it? In the locker room in front of the whole team? Or no, how about I take you in there and fuck you right in front of her?"
"That isn't fair..." I protest.
"I don't fucking want to hurt her, Kirk."
But it's okay to hurt me. "Just go back inside, Todd. I'll be in soon."
He rolls his eyes and stomps back to the house, pausing at the door. "It's nearly midnight, by the way. If you're done sulking, come and join us for the countdown."
"Yay," I mutter as he closes the door. "I can watch you and your fucking girlfriend..."
A low, deep whistle reminds me that someone had witnessed that whole scene.
Shit.
***
Shit.
That was not what I expected to see tonight. I was pretty sure Kirk was trying to keep the attention off of himself with his nagging about my cigarettes, but I never would've guessed just what he was trying to hide. Though it's nice to know I'm not the only one hiding something from my teammates.
"So clear this up for me," I say, feigning nonchalance. "It's wrong of me to smoke, because someone might get harmed. But it's okay for you to sleep with a guy who has a girlfriend, knowing that if she finds out, she'll get hurt?"
"It isn't the same, kid. And its none of your fucking business," he growls in warning.
"It is the same, because either way, we're fucking ourselves over, as well as other people. Your sleeping with Todd is just as bad as my secondhand smoke, only you're dealing with emotions, and mine is physical."
He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it, turning his back on me. I've almost gotten back to the porch when he finally says something. "It's like an addiction," he says softly, walking back to meet me at the fence. "It's dangerous and exciting--you want something you can't have, but you actually get it. Its not what you can't have, its what you shouldn't have," he pauses, laughing humorlessly, "which only makes you want it more."
He hesitates again, pausing to stare up at the sky, and as the moon casts shadows on his face and glitters in his eyes, I wonder why he's settling for someone who won't love him exclusively. Then his eyes focus on mine, and I wonder out loud.
***
"So why settle? Why not find a guy who isn't with someone?" he smiles lopsidedly, shrugging a shoulder. "Not to be an ass, but you're obviously gay, so isn't that kind of built-in forbidden territory?"
This kid is far too damned nosy...and far too damned wise. These are the questions I try to block out at night, when I'm alone, staring at the ceiling and fighting off insomnia. "I don't know. I'm used to it, I suppose," I murmur, not sure why I'm telling him this. "It started years ago in Cape Breton. And I just never tried finding anything more. I got used to being...the bad guy, I guess."
"Why are you the bad one?" he asks, one eyebrow arched. "Todd's the one cheating on his girlfriend. He has to agree to this too."
I shrug a bit, unsure of how to answer, "I'm his...his back up plan. When you start as the fill-in for a guy who has a different girl almost every night, it stops fazing you really early to be second--or third--best. It's a fucked up cycle, I realize that."
He takes a long drag, the tip of his cigarette glowing brighter. "So stop letting the cycle dictate. Find someone to start over with."
"Easier said than done, kid," I pause. "It's hard to walk away from someone you care about." I glance at the house, imagining him inside, getting ready for the countdown, kissing Caroline at midnight when I want him to be kissing me. I can't be inside for that; I can't bring myself to watch that. So I'll stay our here, breathing in Andy's secondhand smoke, because I'm not entirely sure which is more harmful.
***
The noise inside Todd's house grows louder, and I realize it must be nearing midnight. A check of my watch confirms it: 11:58. Kirk keeps glancing at the house, eyes sad, hands stuffed in his pockets, and an idea comes to me.
I'll do anything to make that frown go away.
"You know, I normally think that New Year's resolutions are bullshit," I start, and he focuses his attention on me rather than the house--an improvement already. "But I think we each need to make one this year." I hold up my cigarettes, "These are bad for me, right? Gone. I'll quit. Not another cigarette once midnight comes."
"Okay..." he says, looking a bit wary. "I get the feeling you aren't done yet."
I nod toward the commotion of Todd's house, "Fooling around with a Todd, going after guys who are taken, that's bad for you, and everyone else involved. I'll give up smoking if you give up Todd."
He seems to ponder the idea, biting his lip, staring at me as if he's not entirely sure whether or not I'm serious. Arching an eyebrow in challenge, I squeeze the pack of cigarettes, smashing them in my hand. To emphasize my point, I toss the ruined package into the woods. "Well?" I ask.
The countdown starts inside Todd's house, as if to further dramatize Kirk's response.
10.
9.
8.
He glances up at the house, raking a hand through his hair.
7.
6.
5.
"Well," he sighs, "if I'm going to do this, I might as well buy into all of the New Year's Eve bullshit."
4.
3.
2.
He leans close, whispering, "Happy New Year, kid."
1.
And then he kisses me, soft and gentle, giving me my first ever New Year's kiss.
***
He's surprised by the kiss--almost as much as I am. It's a confident, experienced kiss, one that tastes of nicotine and hints that he's done this before. He doesn't reach for me; he only curls a hand around one of the links in the fence, pulling himself closer to me.
My hands are still in my pockets, but they're itching to grab him, to tangle in his hair, to scrape at his neck. He's just a kid, my conscience reminds me, but I've been ignoring it so long that it's an easy voice to block out. In the distance, I can hear Todd's party, the fireworks being set off throughout the city, people celebrating all around us, but I'm just trying to keep kissing him. I want nothing more than to make this moment last for another few heartbeats.
When he slowly starts pulling away, eyelids fluttering opening, guilt sets in. For all his wisdom and theorizing, he's still only a boy, sixteen at best. Though he doesn't seem to mind the age difference. He's smiling shyly, which makes him look far younger than when he was smoking and asking me far too difficult questions.
"So..." I speak softly, surprised when my voice comes out rough and hoarse, breathless, "no more smoking."
He shakes his head, whispering, "And no more wanting guys you can't have."
"No more going after guys who are taken," I say in reply, nodding slowly. With that, I turn back towards the house, curious about this boy who is trying to change my life and determined to keep the promise I made to him.
***
Watching Kirk walk back into Todd's house, I finally let myself breathe. Jesus Christ. I expected tonight to be boring, so much so that I wasn't even sure I'd stay awake long enough to watch the ball drop. Now my lips are hot, tasting of his, my cheeks sensitive from the stubble of his jaw, my legs limp and trembling from the force of the kiss.
Slowly, I walk back inside, pausing to drop my lighter in the trash. Though I only made that resolution to appease him, I realize now that maybe he has a point. Maybe I should stop. Call it superstitious, but I think that maybe if I keep up my end of the deal, he'll do the same.
As I slip into bed, I replay the kiss, and with a grin, I realize that coming home for the holidays wasn't such a bad idea after all.
December 31, 2003
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
11:36 pm
I wonder if he realizes who I am, if he recognizes me, or if he just figures I'm another young defenseman he has to push through. I thought I saw a flash of recognition in his eyes a few times tonight, but I can't be sure if that's reality or if wishful thinking has taken over.
I shouldn't be here. I should've gone home after the game, just slipped into bed with Krista and forgotten him and that stupid little kiss from so long ago. But here I am, standing outside the visitor's exit of Pengrowth Saddledome, hiding just out of sight. He hasn't come out yet, despite the fact that the game ended nearly two hours ago and the team bus left long ago. The only possibility is that I've missed him.
It's a sick obsession, one made even worse by the fact that I have a wife at home, a wife who has called twice, though I haven't yet answered, searching my coat pockets for the cigarettes I keep hidden there. I'd quit for a while, but shortly after marrying Krista, I started again, figuring that, by now, my compliance with that age-old resolution was unimportant. I light it and take a deep drag, the familiar burn stinging my throat, soothing my nerves.
The moon is barely visible tonight; between the thin shield of clouds and the too-bright city lights, it's only a faint half circle in the sky. It's warmer than that night eight years ago, just barely cold enough to keep the light dusting of snow from melting.
I blow out a stream of smoke, watching it curl and disintegrate, realizing I've missed him, that it wasn't meant to be, that I should just go home.
Just as soon as I finish this last cigarette.
***
11:55.
The game was over hours ago, and I'm supposed to be meeting my team to celebrate the New Year, but I'm sitting outside of the Flames' locker room, hoping I didn't miss him. I knew the second I saw him that it was the same Andrew that had grown up in the house next to Todd's. The same Andrew I'd kissed. The same Andrew I'd been obsessing over ever since.
But it looks like he's not coming out.
I stand up, glancing back once more at the closed door, resigning myself to the fact that it was just another dead-end heartbreak, exactly like every other time I let myself fall for someone.
I step out into the clear, cool Canadian air, expecting purity, surprised to catch a hint of tobacco. Eyes wide, I turn around to see someone leaning against the building, partially hidden in shadows but for the glow of his cigarette.
Him.
"You do realize how bad those things are for you, right?" I ask, and he jumps slightly, staring at me.
"Hey...I was hoping to see you..." he sounds nervous, a bit unsure.
"I was waiting inside for...someone..." I trail off, not wanting him to realize just how pitiful I am.
He takes a drag, slowly letting the smoke out. "I quit for a long time," he explains, holding up the cigarette. "But I discovered a couple years ago that I couldn't give it up entirely."
I nod silently, because I can tell he isn't done; he's got the same expression on his face as he did when he proposed that conditional resolution eight years ago. "So I didn't keep my resolution; I wasn't strong enough to beat the addiction." He hesitates, staring at the sky, then finally at me, "What about you? Are you still going after guys with girlfriends?"
I glance to his hand, frustrated to find it shoved in his pocket. Looking for a ring would've been easier than this. "That depends," I answer softly.
"Depends?" he arches an eyebrow. "Depends on what?"
I take a deep breath, looking at the ground, and then whisper, "On whether or not you're taken..." my voice trails off, and I glance up to get his reaction.
He's biting his lip, and he slowly pulls his hand from his pocket just as the city's fireworks shoot off, signaling the arrival of the New Year. One of the Roman Candles sparkles red, glinting off of the silver band encircling his ring finger. "Taken," he murmurs.
Hesitantly, I step closer to him, leaning in to press my lips lightly to his, moaning despite myself when his arms slip around me.
So much for resolutions.
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