I'll Be Right Beside You

Jordan

“WHAT THE FUCK JAMES? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS?!” I yelled as the smaller man stood in the entry way looking like he wished he would just drop dead. He’d texted and told me he needed to talk to me, so I figured he was trying to figure out how to ask out Rosalia or something. But no, that would be too simple.

My girlfriend was staying at his fucking house and hadn’t said a word.

“We are! Calm your shit, okay? Let me talk,” he huffed, and I managed to contain myself to pacing my kitchen.

“She didn’t want to come home and get into an argument with you when you were both still so worked up – she just wanted to be able to cool down a bit and let you get some air so you can both talk about it civilly,” he explained, and even though I knew it was rational and it made a lot of sense, it still felt like he’d betrayed me. And the fact that she’d go running to him hurt like a bitch too. I wasn’t stupid, I knew how well they got along, and there was the fact that James is a good-looking guy as well as being single. I could easily see the two of them together, so that’s what made it hurt so much.

“But it didn’t occur to you to just fucking tell me that my girlfriend was staying at your house?”

“I don’t know – you haven’t exactly been in a chatty mood the past few days,” his voice dripped with sarcasm and I resisted the urge to deck him one. I’d been pissed off, to say the least, and worse than that Cam was still avoiding me at all costs. She wouldn’t call, or return a call, and it seemed that she always found some way, reason or excuse to not have anything to do with me when we ran into each other at the rink, or at practice. She’d even changed her fucking workout schedule so we wouldn’t be there at the same time. That’s how I knew something was really wrong, because Cam was a creature of habit – like most of us are – and it would take a lot for her to do that.

“Well sorry I’m not tickled fucking pink that my girlfriend and I are in a fight,” I sneered, before sitting down at the table, running my hands through my hair in frustration. James hesitated for a moment before he sat down across from me, and wrung his hands together a few times before he spoke up.

“You understand why she’s mad… right?” he asked, and I huffed.

“Yeah, she thinks I’m not going to let her play hockey and therefore nobody will take her seriously. I don’t think she gets why I’m mad,” I growled, and he sighed.

“She gets it Jordan, she does. But to her when you love someone the way she loves you – and the way she assumes you love her – letting that other person make the best of their dreams is more important,” he started, and I slammed my fist on the table, making him jump.

“Don’t talk to me like you know her inside and out and I don’t. If that’s the way you’re going to be just get the fuck out,”

“Sorry, I don’t mean it like that… it’s just… it’s hard to explain. And I think you two need to have a serious talk, not just about this, but about what you both expect from this relationship,” he said, and while I hated to admit it, that last statement piqued my interest ever so slightly. What would he know that I didn’t?

“What do you mean?”

“She’s feeling like you’re doing this to her because you don’t want a tough, hang with the guys and hockey-playing girlfriend, or eventually, wife,” his statement sounded flat, and my stomach started to churn.

“W-what?”

“She’s feeling like you’re doing this – wanting to step in and whatever, not just to keep her from getting hurt, but because you want her to step back from it and be a trophy girl – someone who’s always going to be waiting at home for you to get there and a stay-at-home mom when you have kids. She’s feeling like she’s not what you’re wanting and that you’re trying to make her into something she’s not, and that’s pissing her off and hurting her just as much as the fact you fucking yelled at her did,” I caught the venom in his voice then, and felt the churning get worse as the guilt was added to it. I wasn’t proud of myself, that’s for sure, but I didn’t need him to tell me that to feel awful about it.

“And what, you think I’m proud of that? Look James, you can think whatever the hell you want, but I hate the fact that we even got into a fight, let alone in public, let alone on the ice, and even worse that I lost my cool like that on her. She didn’t deserve that period, and I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that she thinks I should just sit back and watch her get the shit beat out of her by guys our size and be happy with that at the end of the day. That we can go home and I can say “Oh, good fight honey, you’ll have a nice shiner by tomorrow” yeah fucking right. I love her, and seeing her hurt kills me, let alone to know that to some degree she’s happy about it! I wanted to kick the living shit out of Marc for hitting her during that game!” I shot back at him, and he nodded, his expression not changing. I hoped on some level he understood where I was coming from, but I was starting to get angry enough to not care.

“I get what you mean Jord, but think about it; how long of a career will she actually get to have? She wants a family, you know that better than any of us do, and she’s not going to wait until she’s in her thirties to start having kids. Her career will be cut short, and she feels like you’re pushing for her to cut it even shorter. If someone was doing that to you while saying they loved you wouldn’t it feel like a slap in the face and a stab in the back?” he asked, and I felt like I was going to puke.

“Please leave James – I don’t know where I am in all of this mess good enough to deal with this right now,” I quietly asked, and without another word he got up and walked to the kitchen, sliding his shoes back on and zipping up his jacket.

“And by the way – she’s going to be staying with Rosalia tonight until whenever – because I guess she assumes that if she’s at home you’ll be there before she’s ready to deal with this,” were his parting words just before he shut the door.

I let out a groan, because as angry as it was making me I knew he was right.