Page 329 of Seasons of Love
The guys next to me talk about their plans to sneak the kids’ Christmas presents under the tree that night. They also talk about some of the arrangements for their wedding.
It sounds so natural and domestic. I feel like I’m intruding in their personal space, so I keep quiet and observe the person turning my world upside down and making me consider a new start at forty-six.
Harrison’s phone rings, but Fletcher takes it out of his hand before he has a chance to pick it up.
“Stella, honey, we need to talk,” he says.
Harrison rolls his eyes.
“Is that Mommy?” Megan asks, running up the steps to meet us.
“It is, sweetheart,” Fletcher says. “Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yes, please.”
Megan takes the phone and runs back down the steps, apparently changing to a video call so her mom can see their snowman-making efforts.
“What’s the point of being best friends with your ex-wife if you can’t get past your fiancé to even say hello?” Harrison jokes, shaking his head at Fletcher.
“Stella and I have a lot of understandings.”
Harrison rolls his eyes. “I bet.”
“Wait. Your ex is a woman?” I ask before I realize how rude and inappropriate I sound. “I’m so sorry. That was out of line and not my business.”
Harrison smiles. “Apology accepted. Yes, I’m bisexual, and so is Fletcher. We’re used to people assuming we’re gay because we’re in a relationship. It’s okay.”
I nod. I always tell my team that if they have anything they need to talk about, they can talk to me. Family, personal, or school issues. It’s sometimes easier to open up to a stranger than to someone you’re too close to.
Curtis drapes a pink scarf carefully around the snowman.
Could I talk to these two guys? They’ve been with women. Maybe they understand this confusion, transition, or whatever this is going on inside me.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard about something,” Harrison says.
“Um…yeah. God, I don’t know how to say this or why I’m even saying it. I’m straight. Or at least I’ve always considered myself straight. I was married for twenty-three years and never once looked at another person. And now?” I bring my hands to the bridge of my nose.
“You’re attracted to someone who isn’t a woman,” Harrison says, glancing at Curtis.
I nod.
“Someone I never expected I’d be attracted to.” I look at Curtis, too. “How can I get to my age and not know I’m attracted to men?”
“Are you attracted to men? Am I attractive to you? Or Fletcher?”
I think about it. Yes, they’re good-looking, like most of the men I’ve worked with throughout my career, but there’s no other reaction. My body doesn’t feel anything. I don’t feel anything.
“No.”
“I don’t like labels, but since I realized I liked both guys and girls, I’ve found that the bisexual label is one I’m comfortable with. Maybe this is something for you to discover for yourself, but you might want to look into demisexuality or pansexuality.”
I stare at the last of my cocoa. I’ve wondered about pansexuality but never demisexuality.
Since some of my players came out as part of the LGBTQ+ community, I made sure we supported not only the player but also their community. We did a lot of charity work and learned a lot about gender and sexuality. One of my regrets since leaving my job at the Marinos is that I miss doing that kind of community work.
“Hey, Coach, do you want to help us dress Mr. McChilly?” Curtis shouts.
“Are you really asking me for fashion tips?”
