I can’t remember the last time I was at an NHL game. Maybe a week or so before Marcus left?
I knew I wouldn’t be able to sit still in my hotel room all night, so I bought a last-minute ticket to come to the game. I could have done a myriad of other things in Vegas tonight, but this is where I chose to be.
My mind is still reeling from the last few hours. Now that I know the truth about everything that happened, it’s hard to wrap my head around. Marcus left because hissister and brother-in-law died, then his dad, and he became dad to their girls.
Hugging my black bomber jacket tighter around me, I step into line with other fans to grab a drink. Everyone around me is excited. It’s the first game of the season for them. I feel like the lone stranger here not decked out in the home team’s colors.
Ordering my drink, I tap my card on the screen and take the almost overflowing cup and sip on it as I follow the signs to my seat. I’m in the nosebleeds. Shimmying my way through the row, I find my seat and drop down.
I sip on my beer as the seats fill up around me. It’s getting closer and closer to the puck dropping, and I can feel the energy in the air.
The excitement. The nerves of whether their team will win.
The people around me are talking about the team. Their favorite players. Who they think is going to win the Cup this year. I love this shared camaraderie between fans.
The lights go off and the noise in the arena rises. Everything about this moment feels familiar. New, but familiar.
It’s the same flashing lights on the ice before the teams skate out. The team video to hype up the crowd—showing great plays, goals, and the team jumping on one another in excitement.
When Nashville is announced, boos rain down from every corner. I smile and take a sip of my beer to hide it. Marcus always said they fed off the boos. That it spurred them on to play better to try and beat the home team.
When the home team is announced, it gets louder in here, if that’s even possible. As the starting lineup is called out over the loudspeakers, my eyes zero in on number twenty-four.
Marcus.
Even skating with the guys on their end of the ice, he looks good. Marcus always made playing hockey look easy. I know that isn’t the truth because I saw the time he put into his training.
Seeing him out here now? I know he’ll have only gotten better.
And I’m excited to see him play.
By the time the puck drops, the place is rocking. It doesn’t take long for them to settle down because Nashville is putting the puck in the back of the net and lighting the lamp.
Damn. They made that look easy.
It’s more of that in the first period before the horn sounds for the first intermission. Nashville is up 2-0.
“We are not looking good out there,” one fan near me says.
“Tell me about it. If we didn’t trade Roberts, maybe we’d be doing better,” the man next to him gripes.
I sip on my beer, listening to them as I take in the banners that hang from the walls. Seeing the years, most of them are old. Seems Vegas hasn’t been one of the better teams in the league for a while now.
Interesting. Because when Marcus was drafted, I know Nashville was at the bottom of the league. The worst of the worst.
They’re looking good now. When they come out for the second period, the team is fluid. Moving as one, their puck handling skills are strong enough to put another point on the score board.
By the time the game ends, I’m blown away at their talent and skill. They win handily, 5-2.
The excitement from earlier isn’t there as fans headout. I try not to smile at their misery of starting the season 0-1 when my team is 1-0.
My team.
It’s been a while since I thought of the Knights like that. Will they still be my team?
I frown, and the fissure in my chest cracks a little wider. Hockey always belonged to Marcus. I loved the sport because I got to watch him play, but it’s not mine.
After tonight, I really don’t know where the two of us stand. We’ll talk when we get back to Nashville. We need to find a lawyer to figure out the logistics of divorce.
