This summer, Andy and Jack are going on a big trip to Asia. Their first stop will be Vancouver, so I’m going to visit at the same time and the four of us can tour all the city’s hot spots, according to Mats and Jack. Now all I have to do is figure out how to pay for all this shit.
The mansion looks totally different now. There’s a vast lawn with shoots of new grass, manicured hedges, and tulips poking out of the curving flower beds. It looks as stately as I imagined that first night.
When we get to the front door, I lift the giant door knocker. Then we wait.
Geraldine swings open the door.
Well, if it isn’t ‘Monarch’s foul-mouthed captain with a heart of gold,’ she quotes.
Damn right, I respond.
After we won the championship, Andy pitched a story to the Minneapolis Star Tribune about how our win almost didn’t happen. The most important playoff goal I scored was in the overtime of our first game—the one I was supposed to miss. Sure, I scored other big goals during our playoff run, but that was the only game winner.
Later, Andy treated me to lunch and told me the newspaper had loved the human-interest aspect of the championship, and that she’d received an official job offer from them, starting in September. She thanked me, but it was all her writing. Her profile in the Messenger was like a mirror that let me see my life from a distance. I felt a lot less guilty about my dad and Jordan after reading it.
Andy’s story in the Star Tribune had been read by many more people than the Messenger one—including Geraldine. Not a shock, since they still get the physical newspaper here.
She eyes Mats, who is looking so gorgeous in a blue floral-print shirt and dark wash jeans that I can’t wait until we’re alone and I can rip those clothes off him.
Captain and… escort, she says. As usual, she’s grim-faced, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes.
Ouch. Mats puts a hand to his heart. We made it to the semi-finals, Geraldine.
Winning is the only thing, she replies. Double-ouch, since we don’t quote Wisconsin coaches ’round these parts. She guides us down the familiar polished hallway, which looks more spring-like with the addition of fresh flowers on a side table.
What happened to your drug dealer brother? she asks.
I wince. Nobody is as blunt as these two elderly women. They have zero patience for bullshit, something I usually appreciate, but fuck. A fine and probation. And he’s doing community service.
It turned out that no fancy lawyer was even needed, since as a first-time offender, Jordan got a predetermined sentence. But he and Dad are complaining anyway. Luckily, I never have to hear a word of it. Hopefully, Jordan has learned something from the ordeal. One day, he’ll grow up and learn to take responsibility. Then maybe we can have a relationship again.
We enter the living room, which looks identical, except the fireplace isn’t going.
Your guests are here, Geraldine announces.
Marjorie is sitting in her customary chair with her foot propped up. It’s wrapped in one of those walking casts. I wasn’t aware that they came in an emerald green, though, which matches her ensemble of a turquoise pantsuit and a bright green bow-tied blouse.
She twinkles up at us. Forgive me if I don’t stand.
Yeah, it was a shame you couldn’t come to any of our playoff games, I say loudly. What happened to your ankle, anyway?
Tango lessons with Mateo, she replies cheerfully.
I giggle, but when Marjorie remains straight-faced, my laughter peters out. I still can’t tell when she’s kidding. Mats is no help, as he’s busy having a passionate reunion with Mr. Fluffer, who is exposing his skinny orange ribs for a tummy rub. Since that cat scratched me, I have steered clear.
Anyway, here’s my trophy. In case you wanted to see it, I offer.
She takes it in her hands and examines it. Kinda small, isn’t it? Considering how hard you worked.
There was a big one, and I got to skate around the rink with it. But we each get one to keep forever.
Well, congratulations. Barb Peachy sent me a whole bunch of photos from the championship game. Then she looks at Mats. Nothing about your team, though.
Man, between you and Geraldine, my ego really takes a beating here, he complains.
Marjorie smirks. I’m just joshing. She sent a few photos of you scoring some big goal or something.
He scored the winning goal in their first playoff game and the tying goal in their quarter-final game, I announce proudly.
