Page 8 of Faking It with the Forward

Twyler

The only personI know that is awake at this time of day is my mother. So when my phone rings on my walk to campus at six-thirty in the morning, I know it’s her without even looking. She claims she likes to get an early start on the day, but I know she just has a hard time sleeping now.

“Hey, mom,” I say, crossing the street. I take a sip of my ice coffee hoping the caffeine will jolt my brain awake.

“Walking to practice?”

“Yep.” Every Tuesday and Thursday, the rink is open for the guys that want to come in for some extra work. Since I’m the intern, Coach Green decided I’m the one that gets to supervise. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to check in since I know you’ll be busy all day.” She pauses and I wait for whatever’s coming next. It doesn’t take long. “I was using the Find your Family app to see if your sister made it back last night and saw that you left the house.”

And there it is. My mother is obsessed with my social life. Or lack thereof. Other moms worry about their kids partying too much. Mine worries about us not partying, or being social, enough.

“Nadia wanted to meet one of the players on the team, so I took her to a party.”

“Oh!” In my mind I can imagine how big her eyes are, while she’s also trying to feign disinterest. “That sounds fun.”

“It was okay.” I spot the arena in the distance. “I didn’t stay long.”

“Oh.”

Yep, there’s the disappointment.

“I had to get up early,” I remind her. “And it was pretty lame. Just a bunch of stupid hockey players acting like idiots.”

“But are they cute idiot hockey players?”

“Mom…”

“I know, I’ll stop.” But she doesn’t. “I just know it’s been hard for you, but you can’t meet someone if you don’t put yourself out there.”

“I’m out here right now.” Literally. But I know what she means and the thought of it just makes me anxious. “I’m working on it. I promise.”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, Twy. I just know that you struggle with this. Going to that party was a good first step.”

I grunt, not willing to admit that it had been sort of nice to get out and do something other than watch TV. It wasn’t my first party, Nadia manages to drag me out on occasion, but I’m just more comfortable in a small group.

“Okay,” I say, walking up to the door of the rink, “I’m here and need to go.”

“Okay, sweetheart, have fun!”

“Wrangling a group of hungover players isn’t really fun, Mom.”

“Stop, you know you love it.”

Refusing to agree, I say a quick goodbye and hang up, tucking my phone into my pocket.

I don’t mind that Coach Green doesn’t come in until later. There’s something peaceful about the training center early in the morning. The smell isn’t so bad since the cleaning crew comes in overnight and douses the place with something lemony-smelling that manages to cut into the funk that permeates the locker room.

I like having a chance to work independently. I tape ankles and wrists, document any concerns in the player’s file, and then head out to the rink to prep for practice. Part of that is managing the water station. Each player has a bottle with their name and number on it, just like every other piece of equipment. The guys are particular about their things. A mixture of preference and superstition. Thank God that’s not my job. There’s a separate equipment intern, Jonathan, who handles that.

Thirty minutes later the guys start rolling in, bleary and half awake.

These extra practices aren’t mandatory, and the coach isn’t here, but the majority of the team exits the locker room and hits the ice. The guys are in better shape than I expected. I guess Reese managed to keep the party under control after all. Even Reid looks steady on his feet as he skates over to grab a water bottle.

“How are you feeling today?” I ask, taking another sip of coffee. I know it’s counterintuitive to have a cold drink inside the rink, especially when I’m bundled up in sweats and a jacket, but ice coffee is my lifeblood.

“Good. Told you, I was just drunk.”

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