“I think that would be amazing. I would love to block off a weekend for you. It would be out in Minnesota I’m guessing?” I asked.
“Yes! We’re actually thinking of maybe hosting it at the Ice League if that would be possible.”
The Ice League. Where TJ had grown up. Of course. That was just the first thing that reminded me of what I was driving away from, and it felt like a stab to the heart.
“I’ll start calling and looking into it for you,” Iaffirmed.
“Great! Thank you so much!” she said. “And Ellie, I think you guys will be alright. Hearing about TJ’s love life all last year, it’s obvious that he means well, he just pushes too hard sometimes.”
I felt my eyes sting at that.
51. TJ
It’d been five days since I last sawEllie.
And instead of seeing her, I got five full days of her ignoring me.
I called her so many times that there was no more space on her phone. Now when I called it just made a weird beeping noise and said her voicemail was full.
I scrolled to her name to text her again. Seeing all the blue bubbles struck me with embarrassment and shame. Was I crazy? Wasn’t this what crazy people did? I’d sent so many unanswered text messages that it was like I was having a conversation with myself at this point. But I knew that if I stopped trying, it’d be over, wouldn’t it? And I couldn’t let it be over.
But what was I supposed to do? Drive back up to Traverse City to face her? Sure, if it were summer, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But we were right at the beginning of the season.
And this was my dream.
She was too…
But she was making me decide?
Stop, TJ, I ordered myself. I knew she wasn’t. I knew I was making up reasons and twisting up fake scenarios in my head, but she left me without anything to grasp. There was nothing to analyze, nothing to think over. So, I just sat stewing in what she would have called “intrusive thoughts.”
My head was definitely not on the game just a couple hours in front of me when I walked off the plane and onto the tarmac in South Carolina behindCampbell…
…And I majorly regretted that in the middle of the first period.
I couldn’t seem to keep my stick on the puck. I missed almost every pass, and the anger over my personal life and now professional life too just got to me, that’s all I could say about what ended up happening.
Because I wasn’t a dirty player. That was never me. Duke was usually the one racking up the penalty minutes for our team, not me.
And on top of that, my mother would probably be disappointed in me. I hoped she wasn’t watching the game, but I knew she was. She never missed one.
I saw a guy on South Carolina go for the suicide pass, which meant he was turned around, blindly accepting the pass and not paying attention to his surroundings. And I was there…and I was pissed.
So, I went for it. I set up the check and executed it clean, but I really should’ve just played thepuck.
The guy went flying like I brick-walled him, and he laid there sprawled on the ice for a solid couple of seconds before getting up, making me regret the move even more. We all finally got to the NHL, and none of us wanted to throw a stupid check and ruin that for one another. But it was like an angry monster possessed my body for a minute and did what it wanted to do. Now that it left me, I was left almost gawking at him as he skated slowly to the bench.
I heard the whistle pierce my ears then, and the ref was skating over tome…
“A two-and-ten? What the fuck, Vinny!” Coach hollered at me as soon as my ass hit the bench seat in the locker room during the intermission between first and second period. I put my head between my knees, not wanting to look anyone in the face. Especially not Duke, who had to sit two minutes for my stupid move.
“And you, Brody! What the hell was that whiff at the puck? Are you a professional or a fucking mini-mite out there?” Coach yelled.
He continued his tirade, reaming out about five other guys before throwing his clipboard against the wall with a loud clatter and then walking out with a beat red face.
We all sat in awkward silence, some sipping water, others stretching out, waiting the Zamboni minutes out until we had to go back on the ice.
I didn’t need to stretch out. I’d be sitting at least half the next period, maybe longer if Coach was still pissed at me after that.
