I didn't tell Pratt I was writing it. He found out when he asked, a few days later, if I'd been in touch with her. I said I'd sent a letter. He said good.
The blanket moved sometime in August. It migrated from the baseboard to a dresser drawer.
He was sticking with "More Than a Feeling," but he thought he might alter it for the new season. He asked whether I thought heshould extend beyond ten seconds. I said he should try it for the first game and gather data from there.
Contract matters weren't discussed at home. Once, Pratt mentioned he had a call with his agent. I said okay. He said it should run about forty minutes. I said I'd pick up food. He said fine. We both walked away from that exchange completely satisfied.
When he returned, I dropped onto the couch beside him, with my foot tucked under me.
"Anything you need before the game?" I asked.
"No."
"I'm reorganizing the spice cabinet this evening while you're gone."
He turned to look at me. "Why?"
"The cumin is in the back. Nobody puts cumin in the back."
"I put the cumin in the back."
"I know," I said. "That's what I'm telling you."
He looked at me sideways. "Leave the cumin," he said.
"I can't promise that."
I left the cumin exactly where it was.
We'd visited the Shedd Aquarium in August. Kieran volunteered on Wednesdays and Fridays.
We came around the corner to see the beluga tank, and Ansel was already moving toward the glass before Kieran had fully appeared. The whale drifted forward. Kieran put his palm flat against the glass. Ansel held his position, with one eye tracking.
Heath materialized at my elbow four seconds later.
"June," he said, by way of explanation. "It's been like this since June. I think Kieran has stronger feelings for the whale than he does for me."
"Does that bother you?"
"No," he said. "It's a very impressive whale."
We had dinner at a place Heath had walked past twice and decided looked honest. We got a table in the back.
Heath was halfway through a story about Varga and a penalty box in St. Louis when he stopped himself mid-sentence, as if something had just caught up to him.
“Actually—” He glanced at Kieran, then at Pratt. “Did you guys see anything weird the other day?”
Kieran didn’t look up from his drink. “That depends on your threshold for weird.”
“I’m serious,” Heath said. “After practice. Everyone was clearing out, and Rook had Varga backed up against the lockers like he was telling him something.”
“That’s not unusual,” Pratt said.
“Yeah, but he was in his ear,” Heath said, leaning forward now. “Like—close. And Varga wasn’t talking. Just standing there like he’d been told to stay put.”
That got Kieran’s attention. Not much, just enough that his eyes flicked up.
“What happened?” he asked.
