The door of the rink opened.
Two men walked out.
One was Coach Harper.She looked serious, pointing at a clipboard.
The other man was tall, wearing a camel-hair coat that cost more than my entire tuition.He had silver hair and the kind of posture that comes from never having to wait in line.He was nodding, listening to Harper, but his eyes were scanning the campus like he was appraising real estate.
He stopped at the Navigator, shook Harper’s hand, and got in.
The car pulled away, sliding silently past me.
I watched it go.
It wasn’t a car.It was the future.It was the variable that solved the equation of Luke’s life.
If that car was here, the offer was coming.And if the offer was coming, the timeline had accelerated.
I turned and walked back to the dorm.I didn’t count my steps this time.There was no point.The math was done.
I texted him from the sidewalk.
Me:You okay?
The reply came forty minutes later, while I was sitting in the dark.
Luke:Long day.Talk tomorrow.
Four words.No iteration.The trend line didn’t lie.
By eleven p.m.Luke still wasn’t back.His practice had ended hours ago.He should be here.He should be icing his shoulder.
I sat on my bed.I didn’t turn on the lights.
I took out my notebook.Not my class notebook.My scratch pad.
I wrote:Minnesota.
I started doing the math.
Distance: Cold Harbor to St.Paul.1,248 miles.
Travel Time: 19 hours driving.4 hours flying.
Cost of Flight: $350 avg.(Unaffordable on my stipend).
