“But she made a plan B,” Nora says. “She documented her rehab. She became huge on social media. She wrote a couple of books. She does public speaking.”
I nod. “She’s incredible. She’s probably more famous and has more opportunities now, honestly. She was able to widen her sphere of influence outside of gymnastics.”
Nora’s expression softens. “Is this why you feel like you don’t know how to do anything else? Because your focus has always been hockey? Because your family told you that’s all that mattered?”
“Because Idon’tknow how to do anything else. Hockey has literally been the only thing in my life.”
Enzo arrives with our entrées, and we spend a few minutes adding Parmesan cheese and cracked black pepper, as well as adjusting an amazing-smelling bread basket in the middle of the table, declining further wine, but having our ice waters topped off.
I watch as Nora leans over her plate and inhales deeply of the aromas coming from the pumpkin ravioli and the savory sauce.She pulls the napkin away from the bread. “Oh my God,” she mutters softly, obviously enthralled by the look and smell of the bread as well.
She takes a piece, butters it, then looks up at me. “Keep going.”
I chuckle and choose bread for myself, but I do continue telling my story. “Astrid and my success bolstered my parents' name, and I guess power in the country. They were not only the parents of the future queen, but now they were the parents of two huge sports stars who were making our country famous.” I pause. “It’s really always been about status with my parents. They don’t really care about hockey or gymnastics. When Astrid got hurt, they were worried for her health, of course, but they were so relieved when she made something out of that. They didn’t care she wasn’t doing gymnastics anymore. They just cared she was still a well-known name and could monetize that.”
“Oh, Alex,” Nora says, frowning.
It is what it is. “They won’t care what kind of hockey I’m playing here. They won’t care if I’m singing and dancing. What they’ll care about is that I’m not getting paid the way I did in Portland and that I can’t get endorsement deals from it, and that I won’t get interviewed or my face on the front of magazines.”
Nora has taken a bite of her ravioli and now takes a moment to chew, as she watches me. I try to take a bite and chew as well, but I don’t really taste my penne alla arrabbiata despite the spicy sausage that’s been added.
After she swallows, she says, “You had a setback in your professional career, the thing that they think is so important, the thing they’ve been proud of, and now, instead of returning to the Grays, or moving into coaching or something, you’re stuck in a tiny town in Louisiana, playing bonkers hockey. So you don’t want to go into detail about it. You want to wait to really get into what you’re doing next until you get back to Portland.”
Well… “Yes.”
Nora nods and takes another bite of her ravioli; she chews and swallows. “I get it. I mean, if all they cared about was your big pro hockey career, this would seem like a step back.”
Yes, it would. And it did to me. But now, sitting across the table from this woman, only two days in, hearing her say it that way, just accepting the situation and my parents with their flawed, superficial approach to what Astrid and I do, makes me feel defensive of bonkers hockey.
“It’s nothing for any of us to be embarrassed about,” I say with a slight frown.
“I agree. I mean it’s not going to win you any trophies…” She pauses. “I mean, I guess we could come up with a trophy and some way of winning it. We should put out a poll?—”
I chuckle. “Focus, Nora.”
She grins at me, and I feel the tension that had grabbed my shoulders, neck, and the back of my head ease.
“Anyway, it’s not going to get you on the major TV networks or interviews inHockey Hunks, but you are going to make a whole bunch of people happy, and make money for my town, and save my grandfather’s political career. So, it’s not without any goals and good outcomes.”
I’m not going to tell her that my parents won’t give a crap about her grandfather’s political career. I suspect she knows that. And my parents would absolutely sit in the stands completely confused and very judgmental about everything from the mascot to that mascot throwing beads and toys to the children to the fact that there is a very good possibility that at some point I’m going to have to put on a foam Joker’s hat and dance to a Lady Gaga song.
The jury is still out on whether I’m going to be able to handle the lip syncing, too.
“It is possible, however, that my sister Linnea and her husband would come.”
Nora perks up at that. “Is her husband still good friends with the prince?”
“He is. But that prince is now the king.”
“Is it possible that the king might come?”
I groan. I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, there is a chance that Torin would come watch me play bonkers hockey. “I’m sure he’ll be too busy,” I say.
Nora points her fork at me. “So that’s a yes, if he finds out about it.”
“He’s got a whole country to run.”
I chuckle when she says, “Does the palace have an email address?”
