Page 19 of Taking It To Overtime
“Go dude. I’m good. Mom’s love me.”
My mother raised one hockey boy, with two more as honorary sons. There is nothing this kid can pull that she hasn’t seen. I give him my practice glare, the one meant to quiet the team and keep them in line. Vic might be the motivator, but I’m the enforcer. Spags gives me a thumbs up, just like he does on the ice.
“I wouldn’t mind a shower, anyway. The lovely Vivian can show me where everything is. Go.”
My glare intensifies, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender.
“Kidding, kidding. So I shouldn’t tell her about the kiss, the touching, and the copulatory gazes?” The fuck? “Cool phraseright? Definitely heard that on tv or something. Should I tell Mama Vivian how she ran from your car like her hair was on fire?”
“I will bury you.” After I run him over with the Zamboni. And drop him down a few flights of stairs. And send his mother a condolences card and bouquet of white lilies with the words:
SORRY FOR THE LOSS OF YOUR SON.
HE NEVER KNEW WHEN TO STOP TALKING
“I’ll be good.” Spags holds three fingers in the air like the boy scout he never was.
“Ma.” I look over my shoulder at the kitchen. “I’m running out for a sec. Be right back.” I’m already moving toward the front door, checking my phone for a response one last time, when Mom calls back.
“If you’re looking for Vera, her parents are over at Shady Brook now. Just on the other side of the creek.”
My gut instinct is to deny everything and tell her I don’t appreciate her presumptuousness, but of course, that is who I’m looking for. I grab my dad’s car keys and say nothing as the door slams shut behind me.
It’s nota long drive to Shady Brook. The AC doesn’t fully engage before I’m pulling into the circular drive and parking in one of the visitor spots. I think I spend the same time driving here as I used to spend walking across the neighbor’s lawn to go knock on Vera’s door. We’re so close that if I could see past the dense copse of trees behind the Novak’s building, I could see the creek that backs up onto our—well, my—neighborhood.
My palms are sweating as I enter the code the front desk gave me when I signed the guest book. My name is only two belowVera’s. She still loops her Es into her Rs the same way she’s done since high school. I could probably draw her signature from memory. She used to take a purple sharpie and draw her name down the inside of my right forearm for luck before every game. I drew her name on myself for the year I played in the juniors.
I almost had it inked there, permanent, bold, branding, but it didn’t feel right. Not after everything. She was no longer mine. Not getting her name etched into the fabric of my skin was one way I had to let her go.
I rap my knuckles against the apartment door, avoiding the knocker, and shove my fingers into my pockets as I wait. It’s a good thing I do, because Vera wrenches the door open like a woman possessed, the whites of her eyes visible around the green of her irises. The color reminds me of that band of trees. The ones blocking my view of her and hers of me. She slaps her hand across my mouth before I can say hi, darting a glance back over her shoulder.
“Be right back, Mom,” she calls, her eyes shifting over my face.
Clearly, she wasn’t expecting me. This is a far cry from the haze we both got lost in the last time we came face to face.
“Out.” The word falls between us, a hiss of a warning and I take an automatic step back. “What are you doing here? Jeez, don’t let her see you.”
Her neck cranes around again, searching the interior of the small space as her hands come up to push at my chest until I step back again.
“We should talk,” I say, wincing at how that sounds, but Vera doesn’t seem to notice as the door slams shut behind her. The hallway isn’t very wide, and we’re almost pressed chest to chest.
“Not here.” She’s hissing again, but I can barely hear her over the whooshing in my ears. Everything is muffled and too loud all at the same time. I catch myself as my body sways toward her.
“I really think—”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Outside.”
I follow her out to the parking lot and she leads me around the side of the brick building. There’s a small patch of grass and I can see someone marked a dirt path down into the trees. I know it leads to the creek even before Vera takes off for it, not even checking to see if I’m right behind her. Of course I’m right behind her.
The creek is higher than I expected, and I lose myself in the rush of water as I try to gather my thoughts. We were seen together. It’s that simple. Blurt it out and ask what she wants to do next. If I learned anything from watching Vic and Tristan, it’s the value of communication. I just need a minute to pull some fresh air into my lungs, anything to weaken the scent of lemon and roses and her that is dragging me under.
“I’m sorry,” she says, dragging my gaze away from the tiny whitecaps. “I didn’t want my mom to get the wrong idea about us.”
“That’s okay.” I say, as if her words don’t chafe like a too-tight jock. I don’t have any leg to stand on here. My mom got the wrong idea too, but knowing she doesn’t want anyone to think we’re us again? I won’t lie. It stings.
“You wanted to talk?” She crosses her arms over her chest and squeezes the sides of her body like she’s shoring herself up. “It’s been a long day and I don’t have a ton of time.”
This time it’s my turn to apologize. “It sounds like you might already know.”
