Now I’m hoping I get my mom before I head into the arena to start prepping for the game. She answers almost immediately.
It has become our tradition over the ten years I’ve been in the league that we talk or text before every game so she can wish me luck. “You at the arena?” she asks.
“Just pulled into the lot.”
“How do you feel? Get enough rest today? Tonight’s a big game.” A hockey mom through and through, and she knows our opponents well.
We’re playing the Vancouver Flash tonight and they are incredibly talented. They lost a hard-fought battle for the Cup against the Carolina Cold Fury last year, and their team is pretty much intact and healthy.
“I’m good,” I tell her. “I’ll probably start seeing a bit more ice time tonight.”
My mother understands what I’m saying. While I’ve been playing first line, I haven’t been playing the amount of total time I’d normally see in a game. It’s still preseason and Coach is giving the ice time to the guys he’s still not quite sure about where or if they’ll fit in. We’ve only got three more preseason games, so the final cuts are coming.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see you next week, honey. I feel like it’s been years.”
“Or more like six weeks,” I tease her. I’d gone home to London for a while before making the full move to Phoenix.
“You’ll always be my baby, baby,” she teases right back. “And hey, I was looking at the schedule next week. You’ll have Thursday and Friday relatively free outside of whatever practices you have, so I was thinking we should go explore the area and see what Phoenix has to offer you. I know damn well you’ve probably not managed to check out anything but the best bars in town.”
“That wounds me, Mom,” I say with a voice filled with mock pain. But then I lower my tone a bit so she knows I’m not joking anymore. “But there’s something I actually need to talk to you about.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not as important as you getting your head in game mode. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”
“Actually, it can’t,” I tell her. “Because it’s on my mind and it’s bothering me a bit, and I need to unload it. Trust me on this.”
“Okay,” she says softly, and I can hear the concern in her voice that something is majorly wrong.
“It’s about a girl,” I tell her quickly, so she can have some peace of mind until I can get the whole story out.
“A girl?” she repeats, as if she’s never heard of the concept before.
Lucky she can’t see me roll my eyes. “Yes, a girl. You do know I like girls, right?”
“You’ve never talked to me about them before,” she retorts. “Honestly, I thought you were gay, Bishop, and I just figured you’d come out when you were ready to.”
That stuns me. Absolutely speechless. “Are you kidding me?”
She busts out laughing hysterically and I can imagine her, blond ponytail swishing as she’s bent over at the waist holding her stomach. “Of course I’m kidding you.”
Another eye roll from me she can’t see. “Funny, Mom. You’re hilarious.”
Her laugh winds down to chuckles and I can hear her suck in air. When she releases it, she says in a much more somber tone, “But you don’t ever talk to me about girls, so I know you’ve never been serious about them. So I guess I have to ask, what’s her name?”
“Brooke,” I answer, not able to help the smile that comes to my face when I say her name. “And it’s sort of a doozy of a story that I’m going to condense for you.”
“Go for it,” she says.
So I do. I lay it out for her. The one-night stand—yes, I talk to my mom about a lot of stuff and don’t hold back. I tell her about seeing her the next day, being happy and amazed to have found her, almost as if it was fate. And then her father catching us. I managed to make it through how Brooke lied to her father to protect me and I went right along with it. My mom only called me a dumbass once, but also thought it was sweet Brooke did that and I got on board to help her. I explained how we seemed to be pulling off the deception to everyone but Brooke’s father. And how we didn’t feel like we could manage such a quick breakup since he thought we were talking marriage, so we decided to extend the charade a bit longer. I even admit to her that we’re going through with a fake engagement to keep the stress off her dad for a while, since he seems so focused on it, although this part was a struggle, since it’s still completely ludicrous we’re doing this.