MATEO
I do it before practice.
Not a speech, that’s not what this is. Just the locker room, the team getting ready, and me sitting at my stall and waiting until enough of them are there that I only have to say it once.
I sit down. I tape my blade. Black, even passes, no overlap.
Then I put the stick down.
“I need to say something.”
The locker room goes quiet.
“There’s been talk. About me and Coach Eriksson. I want to be straight with you. I pursued her. From early on. She was professional about it and I wouldn’t let it go and whatever anyone thinks they saw or heard - that’s on me, not her. Coach has spoken to me about it and I’ve apologized to her.”
Silence.
“She’s good at her job. She’s made this team better and she deserves to do that job without any of us making it harder than it needs to be. So that’s it. That’s what I wanted to say.”
I pick up my stick.
A few of the guys nod once. The freshmen glance at each other and then away.
Chen stares at the floor, feeling something he won’t share.
And Mercer.
Mercer sits at his stall with his eyes on his skates and says nothing, which from Mercer is the closest thing to an apology that exists.
I pull my helmet on.
“Let’s go.”
ELIDA
I can’t stop thinking about the driving range. That was how it could have been. If we weren’t in the positions we’re in. But I’m in a coaching position, he’s on the team and that’s that. It’s been amply demonstrated to me what happens when I let those lines blur and I’m learning my lesson from it.
I can’t go there with him.
I’ve watched what the last few weeks have done to my authority in that rink.
It doesn’t matter that he’s different from Erik.
It doesn’t matter that what happened between us was real and mutual and not what anyone thinks it was. The professional consequences don’t care about intentions. They care about appearances, and appearances are what they are.
I came here to rebuild.
I’m not burning it down again.
I open my notebook and write up the women’s session plan for Friday and I don’t think about the driving range or the solid weight of him behind me adjusting my swing.
Jake texts at 10am.
In the building this morning - meeting with Calloway. Any chance of a coffee after? I know a drive-through place that does a surprisingly decent flat white.
Sounds good, I type.Text me when you’re done.
My phone buzzes again before I’ve even put it down.
