Practice ended. Markel collected pucks. The Zamboni emerged from its tunnel.
I undressed at my stall. Jersey folded once. Shoulder pads unbuckled left, then right.
Varga was talking. He was always talking. This time it was something about a restaurant in Fulton Market that served a burger topped with truffle aioli and gold leaf, which he considered either a crime against American cuisine or its logical apotheosis, and he wanted a consensus before committing to a Yelp review.
"Gold leaf," Rook said from two stalls over. "On a burger."
"It's decorative! It's edible gold, and it adds nothing to the flavor, which is entirely the point. The point is spectacle."
"The point is, you paid forty-two dollars for a hamburger."
"I paid forty-two dollars for an experience. There's a difference."
"The experience of having forty-two fewer dollars."
"You eat the same grilled chicken every day for nine months. You are not equipped to evaluate culinary ambition."
"I'm equipped to evaluate a man who got scammed by a garnish."
I pulled on a clean shirt. Checked my phone. One missed call from a 312 number I recognized, my father's Chicago line, the one he used when he wanted the call to feel local.
I didn't call back immediately. Finished dressing. Packed my bag. Waited until the locker room thinned to Rook and Pratt, who both operated at the same unhurried tempo.
The parking garage was cold; late April in Chicago. Third level. My car was in its usual spot.
I sat behind the wheel, started the engine for heat, and let it idle.
Then I called my father.
He picked up on the second ring. "Kieran."
"Dad."
"Good practice?"
"Standard. Breakout reps."
"Your mother wanted me to mention dinner. She's thinking next week."
"Sure."
A pause before Dad got to the business part of the call.
"I've been thinking about our last conversation."
"Which part?"
"All of it. I want to be clear that my advice comes from experience. I've navigated this league at the highest level, and what I'm offering you is the benefit of—"
"Dad."
He stopped. My father rarely stopped mid-sentence.
"I appreciate the experience. I always have. But I'm done letting you decide what's professional for me."
Thirty seconds of silence.
"I'm not deciding anything for you, Kieran. I'm advising."
