“It IS my fault. You were walking out, you were focused, you were ready, and I pulled you in and kissed you ten minutes before the game because I’m selfish and I wanted one moment and now everything is?—”
“Mackie. Stop.” His voice is firm in a way I don’t hear often, the way it gets when he’s done letting me spiral. “I followed you. I’ll always follow you. That’s not your fault, that’s just us.”
“I can’t be at Game 2 but I’ll be watching.”
“I know.”
“Win, Zach. Forget about my dad. Forget about me. Get on the ice and stop the puck.”
“That’s what Barrett said. Stop the puck.”
“Barrett also taught you a bowline knot, so clearly his judgment is?—”
I hear him almost laugh. An exhale through his nose that doesn’t quite get there.
“I love you,” I say. “I know that doesn’t fix anything but I need you to hear it.”
“I hear it. I love you too. Go to sleep, Mack.”
Game 2.I’m on the couch with Mom sitting next to me drinking her wine. Neither of us mentions that last week we were on this same couch watching the conference finals clincher, and I was screaming into a pillow. Tonight everything in this house feels different, like someone moved everything three inches to the left while I was sleeping.
Zach texts me at warmups.
Zach
I’m okay
routine is holding
eating your cookies
That’s all it takes, suddenly I’m crying and wishing I could be there.
Mom glances at me. “Are you going to be okay to watch this?”
“I have to watch.”
She doesn’t argue and turns back to the screen. We watch theentire game with Zach making saves that have no business being saves. He’s playing angry. I’ve never actually seen him play angry.
Dad is hitting harder than usual. Skating faster. Taking shifts that are too long.
Their timing is off for the entire game and we lose 3-2 on a late goal in the third. The final buzzer sounds. 0-2 in the series.
The team flies out tomorrow for Games 3 and 4 and I’ll be here on this couch, watching on a screen the same way every other fan watches. Except I know things they don’t. I know what Zach’s hands feel like when they’re shaking, and I know what it feels like to be the reason we’re losing.
37
ZACH
The plane is quiet.Not the good kind.
I’m in my usual seat against the window at the back of the plane with my headphones on, nothing playing. Rodriguez is across the aisle, asleep or pretending to be.
0-2 in the Cup Finals. Flying to Miami for Games 3 and 4. Nobody’s watching film on laptops. There’s a stillness right now that makes me feel like everything leading up to this point falls entirely on my shoulders. You win as a team, but lose as a singular person.
My phone buzzes and I glance down at the screen.
Mackie
