He’s smiling at the plate.
We eat for a minute in silence.
He lifts his mug and looks at me over the lip when he takes a sip. The silence is comfortable but tense. I don’t know how to act.
“So, your shoulder,” I say, looking at his arm.
His eyes look down at his plate. “Yeah.”
“Which one is it?” I ask, even though I know.
“It’s my right shoulder. It’s been bothering me since the second week of October. I took a check at the home opener that wasn’t bad, but it tweaked it, and it didn’t go away.”
I listen carefully.
“I figured it would. They usually do. The fighting last night made it worse.” He looks down at his hands on the marble.
“Why haven’t you told anyone?”
“Because if I tell the trainer, she’ll pull me. A week. Maybe more. And I cannot sit right now.” He takes a beat and says, “So, you want to know about the draft?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Anaheim Ducks. Fourth round. Two summers ago.”
I chew on my eggs and watch him.Anaheim Ducks. Fourth round.
“Blue.”
He is almost smiling. The small soft corner-of-his-mouth Blue smile.
“Yeah.”
“Blue!”
I stand up, scooting the stool back. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to hug him. I’m standing next to him. I want to grab his cheeks and squeeze his face. He looks up at me. His whole face is lit up at my excitement. His head is tilted up at me, and his throat bobs. I place my hands on top of his shoulders and smile widely.
I press my mouth together. I push it out anyway.
“I’m so —”
I stop and shake my head at myself. I’m about to cry. I’m not going to cry. I know he’s worked day in and day out for this goal, and this is something he’s always dreamed about.
“I’m so proud of you, Blue.”
He looks at me and doesn’t know what to do. He puts his hand over my hand on his shoulder. Just for one second. His hand is warm. He squeezes my hand once.
He lets me go.
“Thanks, Melly.”
He forces a smile, and then it drops into a frown.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting back down.
He shakes his head. “It’s not exactly what I wanted, Mel.”
“What do you mean?”
