Itwouldbe my pleasure.
Anything to have more time with Ari.
Dead End
Ariana
2007-2008
A year passed in a blur of stupid, incredible, all-encompassing young love.
Summer in Boston belonged to me and Shane. We spent afternoons sprawled out on the Charles River Esplanade, watching boats drift by as we listened to the new Snow Patrol album. We wandered Quincy Market, splitting lobster rolls I couldn’t afford, but Shane bought without blinking, and on sweltering days we’d sneak into the rink just so he could skate while I shivered on the bleachers with a smoothie in hand. Nights were lost in each other, tangled in sheets until the sun cracked the blinds and we swore we’d lie there “just five more minutes.”
Against his coach’s advisement, we rented a tiny one-bedroom apartment near campus together. Shane had wanted to get something bigger and more modern, and he could, with the money his grandparents gave him. But I insisted that I be able to split the cost. And so, we ended up in a small, but quaint, place. The pipes clanked, the windows stuck, and half the outlets didn’t work — but it was ours. We painted the kitchen a bright, reckless yellow because it was my favorite color, andeven though it looked a little like vomit in the end, I still loved it. We bought mismatched furniture from thrift stores, piecing together a home out of scraps. And in that crooked little apartment, I learned what it was like to belong to someone — and to be chosen back.
That summer, I met his grandparents. I was terrified, since all I’d heard of them was that they didn’t really seem to know what to do with Shane when he landed in their lap. But they hugged me tightly and asked me questions with genuine interest. They opened their home to us and seemed prouder of Shane than he realized. And, compared to my family, they were like angels on earth.
Shane also met my family that summer, though I’d rallied against his first suggestion that he come with me when I had a weekend planned to visit home. I thought the shame would kill me; thought he’d run the moment he saw the cracks in my family’s house. But he didn’t. He played with my little brother until he conked out for a nap, exhausted in the best way, and he helped my mom in the kitchen with the dishes after dinner. I overheard him telling her she’d raised the strongest daughter in the world, and I’d smiled so furiously my stepfather had raised a brow.
Of course, Jay didn’t pay much attention to Shane when he was there. Other than a firm handshake that I was fairly certain was to ascertain his dominance more than to offer a warm greeting, he stayed quiet. He watched TV and left us alone.
But he also didn’t scream or hit my mother, so that was a win in my book.
When fall rolled back around, Shane and I slipped easily into the rhythm of classes and hockey. Shane was flying, his eyes full of the NHL future that was just within reach now, every game another step toward the dream. And I was right there, chasing my degree, dreaming of the kids I wanted to help, the life Iwanted to build. It felt like it was us against the world — and for once, I had hope.
But not everything was light.
There were nights the phone rang and my mother’s voice came through the line, ragged with fear, begging me to come home, whispering that she thought this time Jay might kill her. Those calls cracked the perfect world Shane and I had built, shadows stretching into the corners of our little apartment. He would hold me afterward, whispering that I wasn’t alone anymore, that he had me. But still, the darkness lingered.
Shane dreamed of his bright future, the NHL lights dazzling just ahead of him, but I couldn’t stop the pit from opening in my stomach. Because somewhere in the distance, beyond all the magic, I saw a dead end waiting at the end of the road we were on.
And I had no idea how to stop us from speeding toward it.
Drop It
Ariana
Present
“So, as you can see, there are a lot of places the new budget can go,” Maven Tanev said, her fingers steepled beneath her chin before she pressed a nude-polished nail to one of the papers spread out before her. “But I think this is where it would be best spent. The more beds we can buy, the more kids we can support.”
“Second on that list would be the therapist support, wouldn’t you agree?” Grace Tanev chimed in.
“Definitely,” Maven agreed. “But we’ve talked for long enough. What do you think, Ariana?”
Maven and Grace were sisters-in-law, I’d come to discover. Maven was married to Vince Tanev, one of our star wingers, and Grace was engaged to his best friend and teammate. Apparently, it had been quite the scandal when the news broke, but everything seemed settled now.
I’d instantly liked them both.
Grace had bounded into the room for our first Sweet Dreams meeting like she’d just hopped off a plane and had espresso the entire flight — which, from our conversations since, might actually have been the case. She was a little jetsetter; though, it seemed she was excited to settle down in Tampa for the timebeing. As a petite woman myself, I appreciated that so much energy came in that small package of bronze skin and platinum-blonde hair.
Maven, on the other hand, had strolled into the room tall, poised, and warm, her bright smile making it impossible not to lean into everything she said. She was taller than both Grace and me by at least a foot, with brown skin and a halo of black curls. I could tell straight away that this initiative was her baby. She expressed the utmost care for it from the moment she began speaking, and I sensed the tinge of regret she held for stepping back.
“My daughter has proven to be my new obsession,” she’d said in way of explanation when she opened the meeting. “I still love this community and want to give back whenever I have the chance, but I also want to focus on this baby whom I know won’t be a baby for long.”
I wasn’t a mother, but I knew the truth of that statement. I’d watched Georgie grow far too fast for my liking, going from a newborn sleeping soundly in a crib in my bedroom to a med-school student. Sometimes it was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that he was older now than I was when I became his legal guardian.
Maven’s words had settled in my chest, stirring up my own thoughts of children. I’d loved Georgie fiercely and protectively, and I’d learned young what it meant to put someone else first, to structure your entire life around the needs of a child.
