By the time I finally got around to reading my uncle's letter, the tiny drop of blood that had come from Camille's finger had faded to such a light pink that it was almost impossible to see. Of course, it was obvious to my eyes, just like everything else from that night all those months ago was so memorable to me.
It was ridiculous honestly, how long I had waited to see what Uncle Mark had wanted me to know. Call it a sixth sense, but I just knew that there was something in there that was going to change my life forever. So I put it off, because dealing with the aftermath of hurting one of the best people I had known was enough.
I had been right.
The letter changed how I looked at my parents, but considering that they were here in Toronto to celebrate American Thanksgiving with me and sitting at the dining room table in my condo, I had no choice but to face them.
"How come no one ever said anything about this to me?" My eyes darted between my nervous mother and my solemn father. "How could none of the three of you guys ever bring it up?"
"Because Taylor," my mom said. "That was in the past and it really didn't concern you, if I'm being frank."
I looked at the floor and controlled the urge to roll my eyes, because no matter how pissed I was, there was never an excuse to be disrespectful to my mom.
If you had asked me before I read that damn letter how my parents met, I could have confidently told you. They met at school, when my mom was spending a semester in the States. What I wouldn't have been able to tell you is that they met through Uncle Mark. My uncle's messy handwriting told me that he had always harboured some feelings for my mother but when he introduced her to my dad, it was bam! Instant connection. He lived his whole damn life in love with my mom.
Holy fuck.
"Fine. So why now? Why all of a sudden does this matter?"
To be honest, it wasn't the situation that agitated me, because I knew without a doubt that my parents loved each other. They were the perfect complement. Being blindsided like this though, that sucked hard.
My dad's perpetually calm eyes met mine. "Because of Camille."
I swallowed, but my mouth went dry. Yeah, hearing her name tended to have that effect on me. I sank down into one of the unoccupied chairs, giving my pacing a rest, and opened my legs wide.
"What does she have to do with us?" I asked lowly, not looking at either parent.
"My son," my mother began, voice soft and soothing, "are you stupid?"
"Excuse me?" my eyes narrowed.
"Sofia, that was a little harsh," my dad said.
Yeah, geez.
"No, James! This was long overdue! I am Taylor's mother, and I can see things in him that no one else can. And I am telling you, for the fiftieth time, that when my son brought that girl to our home almost two years ago, he was in love. Mark knew it too. Taylor," she said, turning her attention away from my father and back to me. "Your uncle didn't want you to make the same mistake he did. Forget about the fact that the woman is me for a second. He was alone for his too-short life because he didn't tell her he was in love with her. Now, don't get me wrong. I truly believe I was meant to be with your father, but I also know your uncle hurt a lot. Imagine how much pain he would have been in if we were soulmates."
I took my Saints hat off my head, ran my fingers through my hair, and then put it on backwards, letting out a sigh. My mom thought Camille and I were soulmates, and I didn't know what to do with that.
"Dad?" I asked hopefully, knowing he'll give me his honest, rational thoughts.
He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. "I'll admit, Taylor, I was surprised when you told us you were seeing someone, and that it was some girl named Christiane Sullivanâ"
"For the love of god, don't remind me!" my mom piped in. "Who the hell is Christiane Sullivan?"
The corners of my dad's mouth twitched, but he otherwise ignored his wife's outburst.
"What happened son?" he asked calmly.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled long and slow, through my nose, knowing that sharing how I broke Camille's heart would break my parents' hearts as well.
"I went a little wild when I got to Toronto," I admitted.
My mom raised her eyebrow, as if to say, "wild how?".
"Look, before I get into that, you need to understand that this city is insane. They worship their hockey team and as one of their highest scoring forwards, I am honestly treated like a celebrity. Hundreds of thousands of followers on Twitter and on Instagram. I'm out for dinner and people come up to my table, asking for an autograph. I can't get a coffee without posing for a few pictures. And although I don't love the extra attention, I don't mind it. It's flattering, and I love the passion the fans show. But the fans aren't the only ones that give me extra attention." I licked my lips and felt my dad's steady gaze on my face. My eyes quickly flashed to my mother. "A lot of girls took an interest and I ended up sleeping with a lot of them."
"Oh Taylor," my mom sighed as she slapped her hand on her thigh.
"I can imagine Camille didn't like that very much," my dad suggested.
"No," I half-whispered. And then I dropped it. "Especially because one of the girls I slept with was her."
My father groaned, and in case there wasn't enough proof that I had fucked up big time, his loss of composure cemented that fact.
"My poor Camille," my mom cried out. Literally, her eyes were shining with tears.
Taylor, you're a piece of shit, my insides screamed at me.
"And then what happened?" my dad asked.
"She was in love with me when I slept with her, but I didn't know that." I mean, I guess that wasn't such a stretch, but I couldn't be sure. "And she didn't know about the others when we um... did it. She ended things with meâthe friendship, that isâwhen she found out and we lost contact for a long time. It wasn't until a few months ago, in March, when we decided to try becoming friends again."
"Taylor," my mom sobbed, "why the hell would you think that that is okay? Is that how I raised you, to treat the people that you care for the most like someone that only exists to please you?"
She had me there, I knew she did.
"You don't understand!" I said, the volcano bubbling inside me finally erupting. "You don't understand the pressure I am under! I am 22, playing professional fucking hockey in the largest market in the entire league. I need to worry about scoring goals, and playing my best, and living up to everybody's high expectations of me. I can't worry about love, or how Camille is the first person I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last person I text goodnight to every single evening. Okay? I don't even know what love is, I swear, I just know that I want the very best for Camille, because she fucking deserves it! She deserves everything that is good in life, and I swear I spend half my time wishing it was me and the other half okay with her choosing whomever because I just want her to be happy." I paused to massage the knot that was forming at the base of my neck and to give my hoarse voice a break. "And that thing with Christiane is just a stupid little fling. The guys were telling me that I should smash that, how good of a couple we'd make, and I went for it, because I needed to keep myself away from Camille. And Christiane is fine, but she's not Camille, but there's not a single fucking thing I can do about that now, is there?"
The room was silent for a few minutes after that. No one spoke, and no one moved. If you listened closely, you could hear three sets of unsynchronized breathing.
"Taylor," my dad said.
When I looked up at him, I was surprised to see the small smile playing on his lips.
"What?"
My mom's eyes were brimming with tears when she opened her mouth.
"You're in love."
"Mind if I join you?"
I continued to stare out my bedroom window into the navy, starless sky as I nodded my head. We had just finished eating the turkey my mom cooked and the sun had long set. I muttered a "hey" once my father's body was standing next to mine.
"What's up?" I said quietly.
"I know I'm not the most expressive man in the world, nor I am naïve enough to think that you didn't prefer talking with your uncle over myself."
I opened my mouth to protest but he kindly raised a hand to keep me silent.
"But I love you, son, and I want to be here for you, in all areas of your life. I consider it to be a failure on myself as a father to not know how hard Toronto has been for you. Every time I asked you, you said it was fine, and I assume that's because you're performing well, but I should have dug deeper."
"I can't blame you, Dad. Apparently I'm a pretty good liar."
Shame filled my veins, contaminating my blood. My dad put a comforting hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.
"Tell me more."
"The things I said to her...making it seem like it was her fault she thought there was something between us, when I had constantly flirted with her, sending her signals that I was interested. But I still managed to convince myself that what I felt for her wasn't love. What the hell is love anyways?"
My dad chuckled softly. "Yeah, that's a good question. How are things going with her now?"
"Fine," I shrugged. "We've started hanging out a bit more. She's come to a few of my games, with her friend Angela. I also think she's been dating a bit..."
"And?"
"Dad," I sighed, facing him now. "I just want her to be happy. But I also want her in my life. This is the most confusing shit ever. Because when I find myself looking at her, I want to caress her face, but I also want to bury my face in her neck. I want it all. What the fuck was I thinking I could just one and done her?"
The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how much I had fucked up two Februarys ago. I had managed to keep up the lie to myself for a bit, but then when I ran into her exactly one year ago at the coffee shop and took her to my place, I realized that she deserved more than the shit I was giving her. So I told her about Christiane, because I wanted her over me. I didn't want to be the reason she was hurting anymore.
"There were a few months when I didn't see or hear from her at all," I continued. "It was what she wanted, and I knew that I owed her that much. It sucked so much, losing the light of my life, but like I said, I wanted to respect her wishes. It's a cliché but it's true; those months apart were when I knew that I felt something more for her. That I couldn't be happy unless I was with her. Then we ran into each other in March at some restaurant and she seemed healed. She seemed over me. I was just so damn relieved that she was looking at me without hatred in her eyes that I couldn't not suggest being friends again. I need her that badly."
My dad listened the entire time, not interrupting like my mother would have, and not judging. He just stood strong for me.
"You know how much I hate to admit that your mother is right..." his voice trailed off.
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "I'm in love."
"And what are you going to do about it?"
My shoulders squared as my body filled with resolve. "Be her friend and desperately hope that one day she wants me as more than that."
"She felt that way once before," my mother said from behind me. I hadn't realized she was there. "Give her some time."