An award-winning book on some of the world’s worst conflict spots and some erotic bondage photos, depending on your interests, Zack thought glumly. There was a reason his life was a mess.
“Maybe,” Zack shrugged, hoping Matt wouldn’t press. “I got sent here to do a piece on the figure skaters. You know, with the Olympics coming up.” The TCI skaters—one of them in particular, at least—were more of a personal conversational minefield than either his conflict work or his photography, and yet, easier to talk around.
“You mean with how Luke Koval’s injury shook up the U.S. men’s field?”
“Um. Yes. Exactly.” Zack didn’t ask how did you know that? but Matt must have read it on his face.
“Figure skating is awesome, I’ve been following it since I was a kid. I thought about trying figure skating myself, but.” He held out his arms; like Zack, he was tall and broad and there was a bulk to his muscle. “I’m not made for it.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Zack said, happy to steer the conversation away from his own career. “Though I guess there’s always pairs skating. Some of those guys are built.”
“Eh, I’m trying to take a break from people. Not to say that you have to be dating your pairs partner or anything. But I’m trying to get my life in gear on my own before I take on any responsibilities to anyone else.” Matt looked somewhat abashed. “Sorry, that was a lot. My divorc-iversary is next week and it’s been on my mind.”
Zack chuckled. “My divorce got finalized a couple of months ago. I didn’t know divorc-iversaries were a thing.”
“Oh yeah? I’m sorry, man. That shit sucks.”
“It does indeed. But life is better for it. I’m just trying to get out and do things.”
“That’s the spirit!” Matt gave Zack a manly—and nearly absurd—clap on the back as he dumped his skates into his bag. “Plus, it gets easier with time,” he said, with an air of experience that would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t seemed so earnest about it.
Zack, to his surprise, warmed to it. He hadn’t had anyone to talk to about his ex since he’d left Miami, and in Miami it had been too complicated to talk to any of their shared friends about.
“That’s what I hear,” Zack said.
“Hey, are you doing anything after this?” Matt asked, shouldering his bag.
“Not really, no,” Zack admitted. Matt was either coming on to him, or he had a new friend. The fact that he wasn’t sure said less about Matt than it did about Zack and how woefully out of practice he was with humans in non-extreme circumstances.
“My shift doesn’t start ’til six, want to get a smoothie or something?”
Zack’s best alternate option was to go home and daydream about the next time he was going to see Aaron. And while that had its appeal, he knew being obsessive wasn’t going to help anyone. “Yeah,” he said. “Why not?”
THEY GOT SMOOTHIES at a place down the street and then sat in the nearby park to talk. Matt seemed equally happy to talk about hockey, his job as an aide at an assisted living facility, and his ex.
“She left me,” he said, his tone philosophical. “Which sucked at the time but in retrospect I do not blame her one bit.”
“Oh yeah?” Zack was equal parts amused and charmed by Matt’s candor.
“Hell no. I was a crap husband. Never did stuff around the house, unless it was a badly done half-finished home improvement project we had to hire someone to fix, never talked about feelings and shit, you know.”
“I do know, actually,” Zack said. “Although it was my ex who was that type of crap husband, not me. I was awful in different ways.”
“Gay?” Matt asked.
“Yeah,” Zack said. It was always strange being out but having to come out to new people because of how their assumptions worked. He appreciated being asked head on.
“Cool. Straight,” Matt said pointing at himself. “Anyway. Came home one day to her ring on the table and a letter saying I was going to hear from her lawyer. Which was a hell of a wakeup call, although too late of course. There were a lot of other ones before that I should have heard. I’ve been trying to do better since, you know? Not to try to win her back. I’m not that shitty. But because I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I started going to therapy, I learned how to cook, do my own laundry. It’s been good.”
Sitting in a park discussing past relationship woes and current plans for self-improvement was not what Zack had expected to get out of his first hockey practice. But, he thought, as he sipped his smoothie and asked Matt what sort of cooking he liked to do, it could have been much worse.
OVER THE NEXT COUPLE of weeks Zack’s life settled into a comfortable pattern. During the day he would clean, workout, and noodle around with his writing. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to end up writing, but his agent had been enthusiastic about the rough personal essay he’d sent her. For now it was enough to get words on the page about his own life.
He ran errands for Marie and had coffee with her on her front porch occasionally. Twice a week he had practice with his adult league team, and on Thursdays he met Matt for an extra hour of work on their skating basics.
He kept his appointments with his therapist and worked with his realtor to get his condo on the market. At some point he was going to need to go back to Miami to deal with the last of his life there, especially closing on the condo once it sold, but there was enough to do in the meantime he didn’t feel too guilty about kicking that particular can down the road.
And, of course, there was Aaron. While Zack definitely still needed lessons,
