MATCHING ALL THE WAY
VERONICA EDEN
A COACH’S DAUGHTER HOCKEY ROMANCE
ONE
EVE
November
What isit about the end of the year that seems to make everything fall apart?
The rest of the time I feel like I have everything under control, then as soon as September hits an impending sense of anxiety builds a cozy little cabin in my chest. By the time it’s November I realizeno, in fact, I don’t have it together and I’m out of time to change that.
There’s next year, sure. Except we all know it’ll be the same cycle over and over.
Or maybe it feels that way because today is one of those days where everything has gone wrong. First, I managed to leave for work without the emotional support water bottle I take everywhere. Then I spilled coffee all over myself, and when I was in the bathroom cleaning it I noticed the inseam of my favorite jeans beginning to wear thin at the thighs.
And, once again, I’ve body checked an inanimate object at the end of my bartending shift at The Landmark.
Mondays? Hard enough to deal with on their own. Mondays when the holiday rush is in full swing and every calendar reminder keeps screaming at you that time is running out before a new year is upon us? The worst.
Mom’s cheerful voice echoes through my mind with the admonishment she’s given me my entire life:slow down.
I rub my throbbing hip and glare at the offending counter I clipped. I remembered to clear the door frame from the back room, swerving at the last second to avoid banging my shoulder into it, only to miscalculate the distance between my curvy hips and the spot I’ve dubbed the Corner of Hip Death.
“Did someone move that?” I ask.
A few of our older daytime regulars seated on barstools are doing a terrible job of containing their amusement. Even my dad’s retired coaching friend Neil Cannon snorts, shaking his head.
It’s been a slow lunch after what I like to call Hockey Weekends—the Thursday through Sunday crowd of locals, students, and the entire Heston University hockey team packing the place wall to wall. Those shifts bring in the best tips because the place is hopping. During the season, everyone ends up here to celebrate or commiserate after a game.
“It only seems to jump around for you.” Mr. Boucher, the owner, chuckles while sliding a basket of wings and a beer to a customer at the other end of the bar. “Have a good night, Eve. Tell your mom and dad hi.”
His sympathetic smile helps ease the ache in my hip. It’ll bruise, though I’m used to how often I give myself minor injuries like this. At least this one won’t be like the mystery ones I find that leave me wondering what I clumsily stumbled into and when. Terrible depth perception is just one of the super powers granted to me by my ADHD.
Hammy ambles over with his whole back end wagging and snuffles at my hand until I pet him. Mr. Boucher’s lovable tan and white bar dog has an irresistible permanent smile you can’t help but fall in love with.
“Sure,” I say. “See you later.”
I march myself out the door with renewed purpose and head for my boyfriend’s place. I finished early enough for us to grab dinner together. His apartment isn’t far from The Landmark. Nothing in Heston Lake is more than a short walk away.
The only way to turn around a bad day is finding something positive to focus on.
Positives like my fun, colorful punch needle creations, my latest craft hobby obsession. I picture how cute a set of mug rugs and embroidery hoop wall decor with sassy sayings would be selling at the holiday market hosted in the square at the center of town every year.
I quickly discard the idea. Instead, I settle on my favorite activity: making my own earrings. The pink heart-shaped lollipop ones I have on are the latest pair I’ve made.
I love designing and making things. Sometimes I wonder if they’re good enough to start my own business to turn my hobbies into a hustle. I’ve dreamed up a logo and imagined how I’d fit in at the craft fairs I love attending. It would be so fun to create things to make everyone’s day brighter with a smile because of something I made.
Then I get overwhelmed by all the things that I’d need to do. I’m not business savvy the way Benson is. My brother followed his dreams and did all the right things to open his brewery with his partner by his side.
On my way to Shawn’s, I pause at the corner where an old camper is out for sale. It’s been here a few weeks without any bites. Each time I pass, I’m tempted to put an offer in. It’s beat up, but if I could fix it, paint it with my logo?—
No. It would be too impulsive. I’m working on that because my last three impulse buys that I wassurewere going to be my new thing are gathering dust in my apartment. The camera I needed to start a photography career, the yoga mat I bought as a promise to get into a whole mind-body routine, and the cute planners I get when I see them then forget to use after a short time are all examples of why I need to hold back.
I love the rush of a new idea, but struggle with follow through. I spare the camper one more wistful glance before I’m on my way again.
