Yom’s already-decided life path involved seven to ten years of play—the average career span for a professional hockey player. Then, since Uncle Nikolai’s youngest son had gone into ice dancing, and his oldest son, Pavel, had already stated he had no interest in running a team, Yom would take over his uncle’s position whenever he was ready to quit skating.
Nyet, his grade in Statistics did not matter. But the bear served as a reminder of how happy Lydia would be if he put in maximum effort.
Indeed, her face had lit up when Yom announced to her a much higher than passing grade in the 80s. But once again, he’d held his tongue. Otherwise, he would have told her,It wasn’t the teddy bear. It wasyouwho made the difference.
So no, she hadn’t necessarily changed since February 15th.
However, a week later, he’d received a handwritten note from someone named Val, thanking him for his generous donation of the giant teddy bear—along with a picture of several dogs snuggling up to his gift in what looked like a large communal pen.
Yom’s jaw tensed as he read the card. He knew Lydia loved animals—too much, in his opinion, given how her desire to helpP.M. had led to her putting herself in danger. But the donation of his gift felt like an ominous sign.
Had she not truly liked it? Was she only pretending when she smiled and laughed during their time together? The idea knotted in his chest.
Over the next few days, he started noticing other changes. She’d stopped asking him personal questions.Da, it saved him the effort of avoiding answers, but was it a sign that she had given up on trying to know him?
She’d also stopped chattering when they watchedAttack on Titan, or holding off on episodes when he had a game, or explaining what had happened in the ones he’d missed. And while she never avoided his handhold, she no longer tucked her arm through his or huddled close to him when they walked through the cold.
He liked when she did that.
Why had she stopped?
Was it a sign that his plan was failing?
By the time the last game of the season came around, he’d begun to regret not adding her mandatory attendance to the Anything List.
He didn’t need anyone at his games. He’d maintained that from the start. Not having to deal with his father’s constant and harsh criticisms had been one of the many boons of moving over 5,000 miles away from Moscow to attend school in the USA.
As for friends, it was better not to form attachments outside of his brother and the uncles that had offered him and Cheslav theopportunity to come to the U.S. to play hockey. Friends were ephemeral. They abandoned you, the same as mothers.
He’d had no reason to let anyone else into his inner circle... until Lydia. Who had yet to attend one of his games for reasons outside of acquiring freedom for a dog. Lydia, who had been compliant to every rule on his Anything List—but also distant as of late.
The sharp crack of the head coach’s whistle yanked Yom out of his pensive thoughts. “Alright, Yolks, let’s break some eggs!”
Break some eggs, they did. Their last game of the season was against the Springfield Marauders, a team that hadn’t even qualified for the Big Ten tournament, which determined who would advance to the USCA playoffs.
The upcoming weeks would involve much harder play against the top schools from all over the regions. That was why Yom only put in a modicum of effort. Not because Lydia wasn’t in the stands, he told himself.
But that excuse felt hollow, and her absence gnawed at him while he played.
As it turned out, even his smallest effort was enough to garner the team a near shutout, with the final game buzzer honking underneath a scoreboard of 5-1 in favor of the Yolks.
They’d played a perfect season! If they won the national championship, they’d be the first USCA Division 1 male team to do so since Manhattan University clinched the title after a close-out 1974-75 season. Yom should have been elated, like the rest of his teammates.
Instead, his stomach clenched as he braced himself for all the other players’ families, buddies, and girlfriends to run out onto the ice.
Something in Yom’s chest cracked.
As inured as he’d become to this tradition after four years, he found himself on edge tonight. He could already feel Lar’s pitying stare on him.
No doubt there’d be another invitation to go out to dinner with the team captain’s family, even though Yom had yet to say yes in four seasons of playing on the same team.
Tonight, for whatever reason, Yom couldn’t abide the thought of lurking on the sidelines, waiting to be called over for the team picture while everyone else kissed and hugged. As the audience began to flood onto the ice, he started toward the rink’s entrance closest to the locker room.
If he was fast about it, maybe he could be back in his tracksuit and out the door before the rest of the team came in to change. He already knew they’d try to guilt him into throwing another party at his lake house.
As if he hadn’t only done that to keep Hanson away from...
“Lydia.” The name slipped from Yom’s mind to his tongue when he saw her at the rink’s entrance, carefully stepping onto the ice.
