I grab two off a hook—one that’s a jar of pickles with BIG DILL ENERGY written on it and another in the shape of a lemonwith the wordswhen life gets tough, squeeze me—and take them to the register. The bored-looking guy behind the counter asks if I want a bag and I politely decline, slipping the tiny knickknacks in my pocket.
“Do they have any of these clothes in a museum somewhere?” Liv asks when I track her down. “Is this how our founding fathers dressed?”
“You’ve reached your age joke limit for the day. Let’s get you to your mom’s so you can make fun of her instead. I’m going to drown my old man sorrows with my assistant coaches tonight,” I say.
I walk slow so she can keep up with me, her stride shorter compared to mine. Our stop for milkshakes takes double the amount of time it should after a group of teenage boys in CCM beanies and Georgetown Hockey sweatshirts notice me. They ask for a photo and show me a video of their practices, asking for a couple of tips to improve their stick handling.
“Maybe you’ll coach one of them one day,” Liv tells me, handing over the cookies and cream milkshake.
“Maybe,” I say, the keychains pressing into my thigh on our walk to the car.
“No hockey talk,”Mikal says when he sets a pitcher of beer on our table. “This is our one night a month where we’re not obligated to talk about the sport we coach.”
“Great. I can stare at the wall instead.” I pour a cup for each of us, nudging the drinks to him and Parker. “That’s my favorite pastime.”
“I could talk about my kid,” Parker suggests, tapping his phone and showing off his son on the lock screen. “But Mikal is scared of babies and Brody hasn’t held an infant in years.”
“For fuck’s sake. I’m notscaredof babies. They’re just… judgy.” Mikal shudders and brings his cup to his mouth. “When they stare at you, it’s like they’re staring into your soul.”
“It’s called a good judge of character.” I flip a coaster in the air, catching it between my thumb and pointer finger. “Babies and dogs. If they don’t trust you, I don’t trust you.”
“Did you see that guy from the San Diego Iguanas got cast on a reality dating show?” Parker asks, holding up his hands when Mikal shoots him a look. “I said guy, not ECHL player. It could’ve been anyone.”
“A reality dating show is my idea of hell.” My phone buzzes on the table with a text message, and I discard the coaster. “You’d have to drag me on camera.”
“I’d pay money to see that,” Mikal says.
They start talking about the other reality shows they watch, but I’m distracted by Hannah’s initials on my screen. I swipe my thumb across the notification, waiting for her text message to load.
H.E.
*Attachment: 1 link*
Buzzfeed ranked the hottest coaches in professional sports. Guess where you finished?
Me
At the bottom, I hope.
H.E.
Do you have any self-confidence? You were first!
Pretend I’m tossing streamers and confetti in the air.
Anything to say about this accomplishment, Brody?
I’m trying my damnedest to hold back a smile. It’s a losing battle.
Me
Is there nothing better to report on?
And who did I beat?
H.E.
The football coach for the DC Titans. Shawn Holmes? Do you know him?
