I nod at her. “You’ve been through a lot, but Garrett’s been keeping me in the loop. I’m sorry I haven’t been around that much to offer support.”
Olivia gives me a knowing smile and pats me on the arm. “You’ve had your own worries. So Garrett said the wrist is doing great and you’ll be back in the lineup on Saturday. How psyched are you for that?”
I can’t help the truly lighthearted smile I return to her. I could kiss Olivia for glossing over my personal tragedy, because I’m not up to talking to anyone about it. She didn’t mention the accident or Gina, which helps to keep the feelings of pain and guilt at bay. I’ve been managing to push all those feelings down and away, not fully ready to deal with them just yet. I’ve tried to scrub the memories of that night from my brain, choosing instead to focus on getting on with my life and trying to be a good parent to Ben.
And because Olivia brought up my return to hockey, a subject that causes me true happiness, I launch into telling her all about how practice has gone this week. We chat about the season and how well it’s going for the Cold Fury. We’re currently first in our division and second in the Eastern Conference. The playoffs are a done deal and we have a decent shot at a run at the Cup this year, a goal that I thirst for with a vengeance. It’s every hockey player’s dream to hoist the Cup over his head and take that lap around the ice with it. It’s nice to be back in a place again where I can actually have hopes and dreams to aspire to.
—
The game is over and Ben is conked out. He made it halfway through the third period before crawling onto my lap and going to sleep. Even when the Cold Fury won and the arena erupted in cheers as the players left the ice, Ben didn’t stir at all. Poor little guy. He had so much fun for the actual part of the game he did watch, he just wore himself out. I enjoyed watching him and Kate together without an ounce of jealousy creeping in for once. They had apparently worked on a little victory hand-slap type of cheer today to perform when the Cold Fury scored. When they did it the first time, I just stared in amazement as they slapped hands back and forth, bumped elbows, and then did some funky dance that had everyone laughing. The entire game, the two of them were practically out of their seats the entire time, cheering for the Cold Fury and yelling at the other players.
It’s a pain in the ass to come to a game as a fan. The hat didn’t do much to disguise me, and I think the only thing that stopped people from asking me for autographs as we made our way through the arena was that I was holding a sleeping child in my arms. I walked quickly through the crowd with Kate trotting behind and we weren’t accosted once.
It takes forever to make our way through the parking lot and find my car. Carrying a sleeping toddler the entire way isn’t all that fun either, but we finally make it to the Range Rover, and within fifteen minutes we’re out of the parking lot and headed to my house.
Kate chatters the entire way, talking about the game.
“I can’t believe how much easier it is to follow the puck when you’re watching it live versus on TV,” she muses, and she’s not wrong there. “And the sounds you just don’t get…the swish of the skates on the ice, the rattling of the boards when the players hit them. Man, it was so exciting.”
I smile and nod in understanding. She should see what it feels like to actually be on the ice during a game. No better feeling in the world.
“So I take it you’ve been a hockey fan a long time,” I observe. I was impressed she knew all the Cold Fury players and seemed to know every penalty and rule about the game.
“It’s something me and my daddy did when I was growing up. Watched all the games together.”
“Mom not a hockey fan?” I ask, curious about her personal life. She doesn’t talk about it much, but I’ve seen enough to know she struggles with money and I’m guessing that’s rooted in her home life somehow.
“Mama died giving birth to me,” she says matter-of-factly, then ends with a chuckle. “It’s why I ended up with a name like Roberta. Daddy named me with no womanly guidance.”
“That’s tough,” I tell her. “About your mom, I mean. So your dad raised you by himself?”
“I guess you could call it that,” she says vaguely, and turns to look out the side window.
“What does that mean?” I press, suddenly even more curious about this woman.
She turns to face me in her seat and I cut a quick glance at her. Her face is illuminated by the dashboard electronics and it looks sadly reminiscent.
“My daddy is a good man. He loves me and my brother and sister. But he wasn’t a very responsible parent when we were growing up. He drank a lot and that made his ability to hold a job a little precarious at times. I raised myself as much as he did.”
“Money was tight?” I guess.
“The tightest, but we made it work,” she says simply, and I’m amazed to hear not one shred of bitterness over her circumstances.
I hear rustling in the backseat as Ben starts to stir. “Daddy,” he says in a sleepy voice.
And fuck…it’s kind of cute when he says it like that. I guess it’s growing on me.
“We’re almost home, buddy,” I say over my shoulder.
“I want my bear,” he whines, referencing a worn stuffed animal that he likes to sleep with.
“It’s in the bag behind your seat,” Kate says to me as she reaches an arm back. “I think I can reach it.”
Olivia gives me a knowing smile and pats me on the arm. “You’ve had your own worries. So Garrett said the wrist is doing great and you’ll be back in the lineup on Saturday. How psyched are you for that?”
I can’t help the truly lighthearted smile I return to her. I could kiss Olivia for glossing over my personal tragedy, because I’m not up to talking to anyone about it. She didn’t mention the accident or Gina, which helps to keep the feelings of pain and guilt at bay. I’ve been managing to push all those feelings down and away, not fully ready to deal with them just yet. I’ve tried to scrub the memories of that night from my brain, choosing instead to focus on getting on with my life and trying to be a good parent to Ben.
And because Olivia brought up my return to hockey, a subject that causes me true happiness, I launch into telling her all about how practice has gone this week. We chat about the season and how well it’s going for the Cold Fury. We’re currently first in our division and second in the Eastern Conference. The playoffs are a done deal and we have a decent shot at a run at the Cup this year, a goal that I thirst for with a vengeance. It’s every hockey player’s dream to hoist the Cup over his head and take that lap around the ice with it. It’s nice to be back in a place again where I can actually have hopes and dreams to aspire to.
—
The game is over and Ben is conked out. He made it halfway through the third period before crawling onto my lap and going to sleep. Even when the Cold Fury won and the arena erupted in cheers as the players left the ice, Ben didn’t stir at all. Poor little guy. He had so much fun for the actual part of the game he did watch, he just wore himself out. I enjoyed watching him and Kate together without an ounce of jealousy creeping in for once. They had apparently worked on a little victory hand-slap type of cheer today to perform when the Cold Fury scored. When they did it the first time, I just stared in amazement as they slapped hands back and forth, bumped elbows, and then did some funky dance that had everyone laughing. The entire game, the two of them were practically out of their seats the entire time, cheering for the Cold Fury and yelling at the other players.
It’s a pain in the ass to come to a game as a fan. The hat didn’t do much to disguise me, and I think the only thing that stopped people from asking me for autographs as we made our way through the arena was that I was holding a sleeping child in my arms. I walked quickly through the crowd with Kate trotting behind and we weren’t accosted once.
It takes forever to make our way through the parking lot and find my car. Carrying a sleeping toddler the entire way isn’t all that fun either, but we finally make it to the Range Rover, and within fifteen minutes we’re out of the parking lot and headed to my house.
Kate chatters the entire way, talking about the game.
“I can’t believe how much easier it is to follow the puck when you’re watching it live versus on TV,” she muses, and she’s not wrong there. “And the sounds you just don’t get…the swish of the skates on the ice, the rattling of the boards when the players hit them. Man, it was so exciting.”
I smile and nod in understanding. She should see what it feels like to actually be on the ice during a game. No better feeling in the world.
“So I take it you’ve been a hockey fan a long time,” I observe. I was impressed she knew all the Cold Fury players and seemed to know every penalty and rule about the game.
“It’s something me and my daddy did when I was growing up. Watched all the games together.”
“Mom not a hockey fan?” I ask, curious about her personal life. She doesn’t talk about it much, but I’ve seen enough to know she struggles with money and I’m guessing that’s rooted in her home life somehow.
“Mama died giving birth to me,” she says matter-of-factly, then ends with a chuckle. “It’s why I ended up with a name like Roberta. Daddy named me with no womanly guidance.”
“That’s tough,” I tell her. “About your mom, I mean. So your dad raised you by himself?”
“I guess you could call it that,” she says vaguely, and turns to look out the side window.
“What does that mean?” I press, suddenly even more curious about this woman.
She turns to face me in her seat and I cut a quick glance at her. Her face is illuminated by the dashboard electronics and it looks sadly reminiscent.
“My daddy is a good man. He loves me and my brother and sister. But he wasn’t a very responsible parent when we were growing up. He drank a lot and that made his ability to hold a job a little precarious at times. I raised myself as much as he did.”
“Money was tight?” I guess.
“The tightest, but we made it work,” she says simply, and I’m amazed to hear not one shred of bitterness over her circumstances.
I hear rustling in the backseat as Ben starts to stir. “Daddy,” he says in a sleepy voice.
And fuck…it’s kind of cute when he says it like that. I guess it’s growing on me.
“We’re almost home, buddy,” I say over my shoulder.
“I want my bear,” he whines, referencing a worn stuffed animal that he likes to sleep with.
“It’s in the bag behind your seat,” Kate says to me as she reaches an arm back. “I think I can reach it.”
