I’m about to step in when Ezra lowers himself and sits on his haunches to come eye-level with the girl. Ceasing my movement, I wait to see what he’s about to do.
Tugging her close and wiping her tears and runny nose with his handkerchief, he asks in the softest voice I’ve ever heard his mouth leave, “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Ruby,” she hiccups between her sniffles as Ezra caresses her blonde hair and tucks the errant strands behind her ears, fixing her pigtails.
A soft smile plays on his lips. “Wow. Ruby issuch a beautiful name, just like you. You must be so lucky!” Ezra showers her with words that make her happy and divert her attention from whatever is hurting her.
Ruby’s cries gradually subsides. “You think so?” she asks as she rubs her eye with her tiny fist.
Nodding animatedly, he says, “Definitely. I know so.” Pulling her even closer and stopping her from aggressively rubbing her eyes lest she creates itching, he mumbles so only she can hear, “You know I’m not like the other players on my team.”
Ruby’s ears perk up as do mine. “Really? How?” she asks with wide eyes as if she can’t imagine something so absurd.
Ezra nods. “Yes. But no one knows that, so do you promise not to tell anyone?” he whispers, putting his pinky finger out. My eyes almost fall out at that action alone. She greedily grabs his pinky with hers and agrees. “I have social anxiety. I used to stutter when I was a kid,” he tells her.
Ruby’s brow crinkles, an expression that looks too large for her face. “Stut—what?”
And instead of laughing at her inability to say the word, he repeats it for her. “What doesstuttermean?” she questions, enunciating the word slowly, trying not to say it wrong.
Ezra smiles at her for her effort. “Good job!” he praises, flicking her tiny nose, and she glows, a grin spanning across her cute face. “Sometimes, people’s words get a little stuck when they talk. That’s calledstuttering. It’s like when your brain knows what it wants to say, but your mouth needs a little extra time to catch up. Everyone’s brain and mouth work a bit differently, and that’s okay! With patience and practice, talking in public can get easier,” he explains in the simplest way possible to the little girl.
Her mouth opens on a gasp, her hand covering it as if she just heard a juicy gossip she can’t wait to share. “You fear too many people, too?” she whispers, looking around her as if to see if anyone else is trying to get a scoop of their secret talk.
He nods. “I do.”
“But you’re a hockey player. You have so many fans. And people love you!” she exclaims, her eyes comically wide.
An emotion stirs in his eyes and recedes before I can identify it. “I do. But they didn’t always,” he mutters with a sad smile.
“What do you mean?”
Ezra heaves a sigh as if debating whether to share or not. “When I was a kid, just like you,” he begins as he tickles her tummy, causing her to laugh. “Other children used to mock me, call me strange or an alien, just because I didn’t like an audience. So, to stop being bullied, I started to talk less and practice more when I was alone.”
Anger on Ezra’s behalf flashes on her tiny, little face as she places her fists on her hips. “Tell me who did it? I scold them,” she says, her eyes narrowing.
Ezra chuckles at her compassion. “It’s okay, sweetie. I don’t talk to them. The thing is, we’re all different in one way or another. So, it’s okay if you need to wear glasses to see things others don’t; that doesn’t make you any less than them. Whoever tells you otherwise, simply don’t pay them any attention,” he explains.
“Sometimes, it gets blurry when I try to see something from a little distance. I didn’t tell my mom and dad. What if they think there’s some problem with me?” She lays down her fears in front of him, her eyes welling with tears.
Ezra hugs her tightly. “Oh, sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with you. And your parents willlove you either way,” he consoles her as he rubs her back gently. “You’re gonna be alright.”
Soon her cries subside to a light sniffle when he offers her his handkerchief to wipe her face and snot again.
I never would’ve thought that someone like him could be so understanding and good with children. And suddenly, the thought that he would someday make a really good dad strikes.
When he finally succeeds in calming her down, he stands up with her in his arms and twirls for her once. Ruby’s laughter rings amidst the noisy room, and my ovaries are just about ready to burst open. Putting her back on her feet, he encourages her to stand in line and get her eyesight checked.
She asks him to bend down and runs away after planting a wet kiss on his cheek, causing him to chuckle after her as he palms the place where she did.
Once he’s alone, I walk over to him. The clicking of my heels must’ve alerted him to my presence because his gaze swings at me as he slides his hands into his pockets.
The moment he sees me, the soft smile playing on his lips turns to a scowl, causing mine to slip,too.
For a second, it pinches my heart to see such a drastic shift in his mood at the mere sight of me. I wonder what it would be like to have him smile at me. I quickly shove away the ridiculous thought and don the personality he’s most acquainted with.
Yet, I try to be civil with him. “Hey,” I greet, coming to a stand in front of him.
He makes a gruff sound in his throat, which I assume to be his response to me. “You’re good with kids,” I say as a compliment, clearly at a loss for what topic to initiate.
