From: camille.riccardiatmail.uwinnipeg.ca
To: taylorhudson27atgmail.com
Subject: Sorry, but I have to
Hey Taylor,
So it looks like email has become our thing after all. I'm not sure how often you check it or if you'll even read this, but I'm just going to say what I want to say and whatever happens, happens. (If there are typos or something that doesn't make sense, sorry. I'm not going to read this over before I send it. If I do, then I might not end up sending it.)
First, I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about your Uncle. I'm not sure if I ever told you this, but I saw a lot of him in you. Like you were made by both your parents and him. (Sorry if that sounds gross, but I'm sure you'll know what I mean.) I'm not sure how much time has to pass before you feel okay about it all, about him, but I doubt we've gotten there yet. I sincerely hope you're okay. (This wasn't meant to be about your Uncle, but I guess he made an impact on me, too.)
What I wanted to say, in case I hadn't made it clear enough before, is that I don't think we can see each other like we used to. I don't expect you to understand (I wouldn't have before I met you), but it's actually really damn hard to be around someone you love without them feeling that way about you. I hope you never have to feel this way.
I'll always cherish our friendship. Seriously, the few months we had were some of the best of my life. I'll always think of it as a great honour that I knew Taylor Hudson when he started playing in the NHL. You're going to have an amazing career and I know you'll make everyone proud. Me. Your parents. Your uncle. Make sure you make yourself proud as well.
If it's not too much to ask, please don't respond to this email. Please don't reach out at all. Sorry if that sounds juvenile, but I lived without you before and I'm going to have to learn how to do it again.
Take care, Taylor,
Camille
(PS. I'm about to send this and I can't believe it. Good god here goes nothing...)
That last line still makes me smile like I've just read the funniest joke on earth. You know, the smile where people around you demand what's making you laugh, what's so funny, and if they could see it, too. Yeah, that one.
This was what the seventh? eighth? time I've read this email. It had to be more than five. She sent it to me almost two months ago, a few days after I showed up at her house and told her about my uncle. And then kissed her. It was a heat of the moment thing. I was craving comfort, pleasure, a touch from someone who cared about me. And she was there.
I haven't responded to the email, but that's only because she told me not to. I was so tempted to respond, though, and just say... anything. That I appreciated what she said about Uncle Mark. That so much of her personality was in her words it was insane. That I missed her. That the months we've been friends were also my best.
There was so much I wanted to say but even more so, I wanted to respect her wishes. So I took a screen shot of the email and deleted it so that I didn't have the chance to slip up in the middle of the night when I was feeling weak and angry at myself for what I had done.
I don't think I've ever wished for something as hard as this. Wanting to play in the NHL wasn't a wish, so much as a goal, a plan. No, my biggest wish was that I could love Camille the way that she loved me, the way she wanted. The thing about love is that it didn't work that way. If love could be controlled by something as simple as a wish, then Harry Styles would have millions of lovers (or so I'm told).
The thing was, I wanted to be in love with Camille.
I just wasn't.
Camille was my friend. I cared about her and I liked spending time with her and she made me want to be a better person. She was cute and smart and kind, and she didn't even realize she was any of those things. Well, maybe smart. I'm pretty sure she knew she was smart.
I thought the world of her, I really did.
And if you're sitting there thinking that this sounds a lot like love, then yeah, maybe I'd agree with you.
But I just didn't feel it.
And I was so damn sorry about that.
When Camille confronted me in my apartment, I meant everything I told her, except one. I could see why she could have gotten the feeling that I loved her. Maybe I couldn't see it in all the things she could, but I saw it in a few.
And that was because when she visited Pasadena, I felt a little something for her. It was the first time I ever had. It started when she had an anxiety attack and I felt so angry at the world that someone so innocent could be in so much pain.
Yeah, ironic, I know, considering what I've made her deal with.
And then when we had that conversation about sex and I got aroused and she was right there...
The next night I held her, but I was able to keep those feelings in my pants. I was only concerned with how she was doing.
Then, I got traded to Toronto.
And I slept with a fuck-ton of women. Should I be ashamed of that? Because I wasn't. No way in hell. Sex is fun and so long as no one gets hurt, you better believe I was interested in getting as much as I could. It was like a frenzy began after that first casual hookup. Like I was transported to an alternate universe where pleasure was just a phone call away. For the record, I can almost guarantee that any single guy who isn't hooking up casually isn't abstaining for moral reasons. He probably just doesn't have any takers.
These were womenâmeaning, no one under the legal ageâwho wanted to sleep with me. I was always kind to them. They could stay the night. I'd buy them food for whichever meals we were together. It was never a date. And we were never exclusive.
My only mistake was that I didn't tell Camille that last bit.
I swear, though, I'm not as big an asshole as that makes me sound. Or, maybe I am. I probably am.
I was thinking with my dick and that gave me tunnel vision. I wanted to fuck my best friend. Selfishly, I wanted to be her first. Better an asshole she knows than one she doesn't, right?
If I had known what it would have done to her, I wouldn't have even suggested it. I didn't know she loved me. A crush at the most, if anything.
I lost my best friend that day.
And that wasn't the only thing I've lost recently. In fact, if I had to use one word to describe the last few months, it would be loss. It went Camille, Uncle Mark, the Eastern Conference Final.
Bang, bang, bang.
Everything that was important to me, just shot down before I could even blink.
Funny how short-lived joy could be. How you can go from the best of times to the worst of times in just a few weeks. Take hockey, for instance. The Saints didn't just make the playoffs, they waltzed into them. Our spot was secured with two months left to go in the regular season. We swept our first-round appointment, knocked out the second-round appointment in five games, and made it to the Eastern Conference Final. It was by far our hardest series, no question. The other team pushed us to a game seven and we were winning by one with five minutes remaining.
And we lost.
Holy fuck. How do you manage to choke that badly?
Hearing that final buzzerâthe end of our seasonâfelt like a kick to the gut. With a skate. And no protective gear. The feeling was so negative, so all-consuming, so damn much and it made all the joy from the previous rounds absolutely meaningless. Like I couldn't remember what it felt like to be happy.
Maybe that's dramatic, but the game was only two days ago, so give me a few weeks. By then, I'd be back home, recharging, and getting ready for the next season.
Thinking of the H-word only made my heart drop. Uncle Mark wouldn't be there so could I even call it that?
That was one of the reasons why I was making a pit-stop in Winnipeg before I flew back to Pasadena. Our lockers were cleared and we all had the go-ahead from management that we were free from the team until late August.
There was just something I had to do first.
She was happy to see me. I wasn't expecting that.
"Taylor, you're here!" she practically shouted.
I looked around quickly to make sure no one was around.
"I'm surprised you remember me, Barbara," I told the receptionist of Winnipeg's children hospital.
"You're right. I only remember my favourite visitors," she winked. "Here to see Devon?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Is he where he was before?"
"He is. You remember how to get there?"
I nodded and signed the check-in log.
"Wonderful. He'll be over the moon to see you. Enjoy your visit."
"Thanks. Have a good day," I flashed her a grin.
I walked down the hallway and stopped when I got to the door with the construction paper sign that said Devon: Enter at Own Risk. He had a hell of a sense of humor, that kid. I raised my hand to knock but then froze. Would he want to see me? My visits used to make his day but I had been gone for so long that maybe he got over me. Geez, I wasn't his ex. But it might not be a good day. I hadn't called his parents because I wanted to surprise them too. The only call I made was to the hospital, to confirm that Devon was still a patient here. Hearing he was broke my heart a little bit.
Screw it. I wanted to see my friend. But instead of knocking on the door I knocked on air. The door opened from the other side and Melanie, Devon's mom, had her handle on the knob.
"Oh my god, you have to be kidding me!" she said, placing her hand over her mouth.
"Mel, what's going on? What's wrong?" I heard Devon's dad, Darryl, ask from inside the room.
"Nothing's wrong. On the contrary..." she winked and opened the door wide.
Upon seeing me, Darryl cheered. I'm sure he was smiling but I couldn't be certain because I was too busy looking at the kid in the bed.
The kid who was absolutely speechless.
The kid whose eyes were shining with tears as he reached his arms out.
"Hey Buddy, how's it going?" I asked as I gave him a hug.
The poor guy just continued to cry into my shoulder. I winked at his parents and they excused themselves from their son's room.
"I'm sorry I haven't been to visit in so long, but I was hoping that this could make up for it."
Like I knew it would, my words got Devon to stop crying and to pull away from my body. He watched me as I pulled the garment out of my duffel bag.
"Your Saints jersey! I've been wanting it!"
He was looking at the jersey with such admiration that it helped ease the sting that came from losing while wearing that uniform.
"I figured you would. You can add it to your collection. Now you have all my jerseys."
Devon spent the next little bit filling me on how his life has been going since I went to Toronto. I tried not to laugh when he got a murderous gleam in his eyes when he told me how his parents told him that he watched too much TV. They had insisted that he take on more educational hobbies (he rolled his eyes as he said this), so he chose puzzles.
"That doesn't seem too bad," I said, trying to cheer him up. Said puzzles were in boxes on the small table next to the bed. I reached for the one on the top. "Look at this super cool one, it's NHL-themed."
"Yeah, that's my favourite. Camille gave me that one."
I froze.
What in hell?
"Camille?" I asked. I tried to sound innocent, but I couldn't even convince my own ears. "My friend, Camille?"
She came here and visited Devon?
"Uh oh," Devon said, shaking his head like he was afraid, "I wasn't supposed to tell you that."
"Tell me what?"
"That she comes to visit me a lot!" Devon threw his hands over his mouth.
God. This was like taking candy from a baby. I almost felt bad.
"I don't think it's bad that you told me," I said, my voice sounding strange. "Who said it was bad?"
"She did."
"Why?"
"Because you might get jealous of our friendship. I saw her more often than you."
That was all? It would be like Camille to not want me to know.
"Oh, well, I don't mind."
"I didn't think you would! We can all be friends! Just don't tell her I said all this, okay?"
I nodded. Don't worry, Buddy, I couldn't even if I wanted to. She doesn't want me to talk to her anymore.
God. I was such a fuck-up.
I fucked-up this entire thing.
"Maybe next time you come she can come too! We can work on a dinosaur puzzle I got. It's a thousand pieces, and it's really hard. I knew she wouldn't be here today, but next time."
I didn't say anything. I was learning that it's pretty hard to speak when your heart is breaking. I was afraid there wouldn't--. Wait, how did he know she wouldn't be here today?
I asked him.
"She's in Greece! For her graduation trip. Didn't she tell you?"
I smacked my hand on my forehead.
"Right, right, I forgot."
Now that I knew Camille wasn't home, I could finally stop debating whether I should visit her or not. I was just going to show up and knock and say... I hadn't figured that out yet.
That I was still sorry.
That I was still an idiot.
That she was actually lucky I didn't love her. Because there was someone out there that was much more suited to her than I was.
And I hated him already.
Holy shit.
As I sat there on a chair next to Devon's bed, listening to him talk about the Stanley Cup playoffs, something inside of me, around the left side of my chest, shifted.
Was I finally feeling it?
"So, how are you feeling about grad school?"
I stared out at the picturesque scene in front of me for a few moments longer before I turned to Angela to answer her question. Green-blue water. White buildings. Hill on top of hill. It looked even better than it did in the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants movie. That was when my obsession with the Greek island had begun, and now, years later, I was finally here.
"I don't know. Okay, I guess?"
It depended on the day, the hour, the second. Which probably meant that I didn't know how the hell I felt.
There were times when Winnipeg absolutely bore me, when I felt so sick of my mundaneâbut happyâlife that I was starving to see some more of the world. Time when I'd feel my heart race with excitement and my body energize with the possibility of being in a new place, on my own, where no one knew me. It was a chance to start over, to figure out who I was away from my family. It was really hard to admit that, and part of me felt guilty, but sometimes it felt like I couldn't change while living with my parents. Like I couldn't grow. Like I'd never truly be an adult if I stayed with them, at least not one that I could feel proud of. This certainly didn't apply to everyone, but it was how I felt about my situation.
But then there were also moments, and they could occur hours apart from the others I just described where I'd question what the hell I was doing. I was so incredibly close to my parents that I'm not even sure I realized just how large a part of my life they were. We ate meals together. I went grocery shopping with my mom. My dad made me laugh more than anyone else. And I had to quit them, cold turkey.
Because Toronto was far. A plane ride away from my parents. When I was a child, I couldn't even bear a week of sleep-away camp. I know that was a long time ago, but some insecurities never leave you. What was I going to do when I needed their help, or if I felt like watching TV with them, or if I just wanted to give my mom a hug so badly that I'd feel like I'd explode if I didn't?
I knew I had to go, though. I was dreading it, but at the same time, I couldn't wait to finally go. Right now I was in limbo. Knowing that I was moving away soon was messing with my head. It felt heavy and I just felt like crying at some moments.
"I'm anxious about it," I added. "How about you?"
"I'm actually so excited! It's going to be such a great adventure. Getting to live and study in a completely different place," Angela said.
She had chosen to go to the University of Montreal, which meant that I was going to be five hours away from her. Thinking about that distance made my stomach hurt.
"What's making you anxious?" she asked me.
I looked over to the chairs my parents were sitting on, each reading a book. We were sitting on the patio of the resort where we were staying.
"You're going to miss them?" Ang asked softly.
I nodded. Thank goodness I was wearing sunglasses, because I'm almost certain tears were in my eyes.
"Does that make me a huge baby?"
"No, not at all. It may not feel this way, but I think you're lucky that you have parents you'd miss. Sometimes I feel like I have no attachment to my mom at all."
"I know, I'm sorry about that."
I stirred my Diet Coke and took a sip.
"If moving away is making you so anxious, why did you decide to do it? Don't get me wrong, I think it's a good thing for you, but still, why?"
I shrugged. "Lots of reasons. Toronto did have the best program for me. But I also don't want to have any regrets. Until this point, I don't think I have any major regrets. If I stayed in Winnipeg because I was afraid and didn't fulfill my potential, I think I would."
Angela smiled. "I'm seriously so proud of you. Remember when we were applying for undergrad that you didn't even consider leaving Manitoba? And now you're about to move practically across the country!"
"Oh god, don't remind me of that!"
Angela laughed and brought her glass of iced tea to her lips. Only we would be in Europe and order drinks from the bar that were available at home.
"Seriously, though, how do you feel about it being Toronto?"
Did she mean about it being the city where Taylor played hockey? Oh yeah, she did.
Little did she know that that little fact was irrelevant. I hadn't heard from Taylor since I wrote that stupid-ass email. I was beating myself up because I let him kiss me and I had just had a "serious chat" with my mom about Self-respect and Putting Yourself First and I was just too stressed about it all. I was well-aware that I didn't have the guts to say any of that to his face, except the part about his uncle. I did mean that. But it all had to be said. I had to move on. My other option was to stand around and wait for him to come around and that just couldn't happen.
Because he probably never would.
"It's a big city. We probably won't even see each other."
Angela pouted. "Are you doing okay with all that, Camille? Are you starting to feel better about him?"
I nodded. That wasn't a lie.
It was certainly taking a lot of time and effort, and the path wasn't linear, but I was doing my best. It helped that I was sticking to the rule I made. I had to limit my exposure to him. Out of sight, out of mind, right? That meant no watching his games or interviews, no reading articles about him, and no looking him up on social media, including those horrid Tumblr blogs who always have so much to say about him.
"At least a little bit. If he doesn't feel that way, he doesn't feel that way. That doesn't mean that I have to pretend I'm okay with being his BFF and put him before me."
"Now that is what I like to here!" Angela said, punching the air. "And you're right, Toronto is a huge city. Probably a bit overwhelming."
"Yeah, but I'd probably stay close to campus so I won't exactly have to navigate all of it."
"Still, though. There will be lots of new people to meet, and you won't know anyone in the city except for Dumbass."
"Yeah..."
Where was she going with this?
"Really overwhelming, when you think about it." Angela paused, for dramatic effect, one hundred percent. "Would it be less overwhelming if I was there with you?"
"Um, yes. You know I would have loved to go to the same grad school! I don't bring it up because it makes me too sad, but I know thaâ"
As I kept rambling, Ang just kept looking at me with the biggest smile on her face.
"No!" I gasped.
Was she...?
No, that's impossible...
"I'm going to University of Toronto, too!"
I squealed. She squealed. People around us gave us looks. Neither of us cared.
"How?" I asked, my jaw on the floor.
"Well, my offer there hadn't expired yet, so it was just a matter of accepting it and then telling Montreal I changed my mind."
"Well okay then! What made you want to do it? Obviously I'm happy you did, but holy, that's a big decision,"
"Because both you and Lawson already had plans to go there and I figured I might as well save the train rides and just join you guys."
I smiled so big I could feel my cheeks hit the rims of my oversized sunglasses. This didn't ease all the anxiety I had moving away, but it certainly helped.
Now I just had to make the move and survive it.