"Proud of you, Pipes," he said.
Then he was gone, moving down the line, and I was shaking the next guy's hand without seeing his face.
Vega was near the end. He was still sweaty from the fight, a bruise forming under his left eye. When he got to me, he didn't say anything. Just squeezed my hand hard enough to feel through the glove and nodded once.
The locker room after was loud the way winning locker rooms always are. Music playing, guys laughing, the particular chaos of a team that just pulled out a close one. I sat in my stall and unlaced my skates and tried to process what had just happened.
I'd come out. I'd played a game. I'd scored the game-winner.
The media scrum was inevitable.
They set up in the hallway outside the locker room. I stood there in my underarmor with my hair still damp from sweat and answered questions.
"Red, how does it feel to score the game-winner on a day like today?"
"Feels like scoring a game-winner."
"What was going through your mind when you stepped on the ice tonight?"
"Same thing that's always going through my mind. Win the game."
They wanted more. They wanted emotion, revelation, some kind of breakthrough moment they could turn into a headline. I gave them hockey answers until the frustration showed in their faces. Eventually they moved on to Colton, who was happy to talk about anything and everything, and I slipped back into the locker room.
My phone was in my stall, shoved into the pocket of my jacket. I hadn't looked at it since that morning.
I pulled it out. The screen was full of notifications, more than I could count. I ignored all of them and scrolled to Joel's name.
Joel:I just saw
Joel:Red
Joel:I'm so fucking proud of you
Joel:call me when you can. whenever. I don't care if it's 3am
Joel:I have to go warm up but I'm thinking about you
Joel:I wish I was there
The timestamps were spread across the afternoon. He'd seen the news, sent the first messages, then had to go do his job. He was probably on the ice right now, skating his exhibition program in front of thousands of people.
I sat down in my stall and read the messages again. Then a third time.
I typed back.
Red:we won
Red:I scored the game winner
Red:wish you were here too
I stared at the screen for a moment, then added one more.
Red:I love you
I hit send before I could talk myself out of it.
My phone rang three seconds later.
