JANICE JONES
poor thing. well you take care of yourself, sweetie. here if you need anything.
VIOLET GENNARI
thanks. you too.
JANICE JONES
see ya soon (wink emoji)
TEN
COLTON
SIX MONTHS AGO | COLUMBUS, OHIO
Remnantsof pink lipstick were smeared around my mouth. There was probably still a bow in my hair. Sparkly blue nail polish stuck to the insides of my socks, but that tactile nightmare couldn’t distract me from the queasiness in my gut.
Dylan Sorrento’s daughters had given me a makeover while I talked to him about my captain troubles. I’d never felt so simultaneously full and empty.
I wanted what he had.
This fall, when I was wondering what the hell I was doing with my life, I asked the universe for a sign. The universe delivered the very next day. Coach called me into his office to offer me the captain role. This was what I was meant to do: to be a leader in my career. To help everybody feel good about themselves and make the Rusties the best team they could be.
But that didn’t mean it was easy. That’s where Dylan’s mentorship came in clutch. He was captain for several years when he played in L.A., and he was great about backing me up and giving me a nudge when I needed it.
On the surface, I had it all. I was captain at the highest levelof my sport. I had a private chef who made sure I ate what I should to stay on top of my game. I had an apartment and all the things I could ask for.
But I was jealous as hell of what Sorrento had. Yes, he’d lost his captain role. But he had his wife. He had those three amazing kids. I knew married life wasn’t perfect. Dylan and Jeanine had been through some hell in the past few months, and seeing them come through it made me so happy for them.
And sad for myself.
I didn’t have a wife to balance out the challenges. I didn’t have kids to remind me that no matter how consequential a sports problem seemed, their little worlds were so big and important.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved my role, my big picture life. But what I really ached for was the small life. A wife to pat on the butt and kiss while I headed to load the dishwasher. Kids to cuddle and make messes and read stories to.
In their casual butt pats and kisses, I saw me and Violet. I saw the life we wanted but didn’t get. The life we dreamed about that one night in my twin bed at my parents’ house. We were staying with them for spring break and enjoying all the wintertime joys Minnesota had to offer. Violet snuck into my room and snuggled up in my bed. Together, we dreamed. She said she wanted two kids, and I said I wanted three or more. She admitted she didn’t want to be an MD. Both of her parents were and they never had time for her and her sister. She didn’t want her potential kids—ourpotential kids—to feel the loneliness that she felt growing up.
My loneliness was a different flavor. My mom was always around even if my dad was on the road, and she was so supportive. But I wanted siblings. I threw myself into my teams as a way to build the family I wished I had at home.
I took those emotional bonds with me wherever I went, towhatever team I was on. And now, I was reaping the rewards of lifting other people up.
But I mourned the lost time with Violet. A life full of dance and hockey practices and kids that were hopefully as smart as their mom. A life shared with the girl who had been in that bed with me, curled up on my chest. The joy of building a family with her. Carrying her when the darkness got to her, and leaning on her when I got weak. Doing the boring shit, but enjoying it that little bit more because I’d be doing it with her.
Nothing about my journey could have changed her leaving, because she was on her own journey with her own reasons. My chest ached with the weight of what we lost, of what she took when she left.
My text app chimed and some fucked up part of me hoped I’d summoned her by thinking about her, missing her so much. I looked down at my phone.
YULIA
Are you around to go out tomorrow?
A friend of my teammate, Dottie. He gave me her number months ago. In a dark moment, I texted her to see if she wanted to go out. It was half-hearted as hell.
But Yulia was contacting me. Violet wasn’t. I couldn’t keep living my life in delusion, waiting on something that might never happen.
There was one tiny glimmer of hope that kept me hanging on. At the end of the summer, Mom posted a picture of the two of us and Violet liked it. Not just the thumbs up, but a heart.
