Excellent, you’ve really thought this through. And we don’t need to go into the estrangement with your family again, she says.
Halle-fucking-lujah, I declare. We’re on the outskirts of St. Viola now, so my torture is almost over.
One last question. Are you going to get back together with Mats?
Jaw drop. Are you shitting me? That’s part of the profile?
Andy giggles. Of course not. But Jack and I were wondering.
In that case? No comment. I’ve wanted to say that all day.
She tucks away her phone and notebook, zipping them into her giant purse. Fine. Don’t tell me, then.
Ryan pulls up in front of the Student Union Building. We thank him for driving, then they briefly discuss what he’ll do with today’s images. Once he takes off, Andy clasps my hand.
The lab is closed on Sundays, so we’ll get the test results Monday. I know this was a long day for you. But thanks for cooperating and answering so honestly.
No, thank you for pulling all this shit together. Despite my bitching, I do appreciate everything you’re doing. If it works, I’ll be able to play our first playoff game.
I’m not worried about the tests themselves, but who knows what bureaucratic snafus could still happen? I won’t relax until the results arrive on Coach Burton’s desk.
Speaking of the playoffs, are you going to the Mustangs game tonight? Andy asks.
Tonight? Is it here?
She nods. Yes. I was worried we might not make it back in time. But we have ninety minutes until puck drop.
I’d forgotten about the men’s schedule with all my other problems. It’s their first playoff game, which is a huge event.
Let me check. I pull out my phone and message Becks.
Are we going to the men’s game tonight?
Becks: New phone, who dis?
I roll my eyes. Oh, fuck off. Tell me you got me a ticket, even though I forgot all about the game.
Shit. The men’s regular-season games sell out, so playoff tickets will be impossible to get last-minute. I cross my fingers.
Becks: Sorry, babe. Do you not remember me asking if you wanted to go?
What did I say? I remember nothing from my zombie period.
Becks: You said, If I have to watch my perfect ex play hockey I will literally barf and cry at the same time. Cry-arfing, you called it. I took that as a no and didn’t bother getting tickets.
I groan. When I look up, Andy is still there, watching me.
Something wrong? she asks.
Yeah. I fucked up and forgot about the game. Now it’s too late to get tickets.
Well, that’s natural. You’ve had an eventful week. Her smile widens. Luckily, there’s someone in your life looking out for you. She reaches into her bag and pulls out an envelope with For Cleo written in Mats’s distinctive scrawl. I grab it and rip it open to find… two tickets for tonight’s game!
Fuck yeah! I raise the envelope in celebration, then hug Andy and lift her into the air. She giggles.
When I put her down, she says, It’s not me you have to thank, though.
It’s Mr. Considerate, of course, I reply flatly.
