Page 31 of Friendzone Hockey
“I’ll take your bag. Show you around,” I say, also as if he’s never been here before, which he has. About a hundred times. But nothing beats the smile that brightens his face. I’ll make as many ridiculous jokes as I need to so his face stays that way. I haven’t let go of his hand; I haven’t stopped drinking him in. But he hasn’t said anything, and it doesn’t feel weird yet. Maybe it’s just the way we are.
Dirk ducks as he enters the front door. His hat’s twisted backward and he’s wearing a T-shirt that says Daddy’s Boy across the front—it’s the one that really pisses Trav off, and I swear he wears it just for that reason—and a pair of low-slung jeans with his boxers poking out the top. The consistent glare that narrows his eyes whenever I’m around is firmly in place. He barrels through, yanking Dash’s hand away from me.
“I’m in the basement, right?” he asks.
“Hey, Dirk. Yeah, basement. I’m gonna get that cleared out for you, bud.” I was supposed to have it done. Still couldn’tfucking do it. Like I’d predicted, as soon as Dash found out he’d get to move in with me and Casey, he asked if there was room for Dirk. I’ve already learned that if Dash wants it, I’ll get it for him, so even though I was having second thoughts about giving the room up, those vanished into a black hole somewhere. My lips said, “Of course, sweetheart”, and I was screwed.
It required a conversation with Hunter because—I was to learn—he’s Dirk’s brother-dad. He raised Dirk, and he’s kind of a bit controlling if you ask me.
“Nah. I got it. C’mon, Dashie.”
“Wait, but …” I shouldn’t let a stranger handle Mom’s things, but maybe that’s for the best. It has to get done, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it.
They don’t get far.
We all turn to the thud of Casey’s heavy footsteps, barreling down the stairs, landing him in the entryway, stoked to have new roommates again. Bill and Ted only just moved out, but he was moping around the house, complaining about how quiet it was.
Dirk puts an arm around Casey. “I have an air hockey table, Alderchuck. You any good?”
“I could kick your ass, Boulder.”
“We’ll see. Help us find a place to set it up.”
Dirk has his hand firmly gripped around Dash’s wrist, not letting go for nothing. Dash turns his head so he can see me, but it’s not a plea to save him, it’s an apology. He’s going with Dirk. I’m becoming something of a best friend to him, but Dirk’s his childhood best friend. They’ve been through shit together that I can only imagine.
Ihave the itch I get to go down to Mom’s room, feel for her heartbeat, pretend she never left. But her things won’t be there. I haven’t seen what he did, but I know Dirk changed everything. I couldn’t watch, couldn’t even be in the house. Hunter and Dash helped him. Even the thought of Hunter being around Dash—stupid, handsome, Dash-used-have-a-crush-on-him Hunter—wasn’t enough to get me down there.
It’s done now, though. Dirk’s in, Mom’s out. I don’t even know what they did with her stuff.
It was foolish and irresponsible of me to leave something so important in the hands of two people who didn’t know her. Maybe Mom’ll be pissed enough to start all the haunting she threatened. Though, knowing her, she’d be happy to know her room housed someone like Dirk. From what his brother told me, things were rough for them growing up.
Resting my hand on the worn door handle, I take a breath and stride inside. Everything’s dark. The overpowering smell of fresh paint has burned away any remnant of Mom’s unique honey and cherry blossom scent. I don’t know which I would have rather been hit with. It’s probably good that she’s moved on from this place. When she was sick, all I wanted was to set her free from the prison of her mind.
Slayer and Metallica posters cover the walls where Mom’s watercolor paintings used to be. Even the wispy white curtains have been replaced with blackout ones. A rocket-red Gibson is in the corner on a stand, attached to an amp, and a set of hockey skates is strewn across the floor where anyone can trip overthem. Those have gotta move to the garage, but the rest of the room’s pretty damn cool.
The back of my neck tingles, there’s warmth wrapping around my wrist. Fingers. A wave of something moves through me—magic. My nostrils detect a phantom hit of cherry blossom.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Dash says. His eyes dart around the room. “It’s different, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” All Mom had was junk anyway. There were no diamonds, no special trinkets, just old sweatshirts and photo albums. My heart squeezes so hard it might crush itself. My mom was special—why didn’t she get anything or anyone special?
He tilts his head, but then a careful smile spreads onto his lips. Those pretty brown eyes of his light up. “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”
Yeah. Get me out of here.I don’t say it aloud, I don’t even mean for that weird voice in my head to say it, but he seems to hear it anyway. He yanks hard so that I stumble after him, leading me to the garage. Stacked neatly in the corner are cardboard boxes labeled with neat script in black Sharpie. Clear plastic containers have been stored on a shelf that wasn’t there before.
Mom’s Photo Albumsis inked onto a sticker proudly shown on the front. We don’t keep photo albums anymore, but Mom grew up when they still did that sort of thing.
“I helped Dirk and Hunter get his room together. My job was clearing and organizing everything. I put all her clothing in garbage bags because I thought you might want to donate them…?” he says, unsure. “But if you want to go through them and keep something?—”
“No. Donating them’s fine.” I can’t go through the bags. Mom didn’t have anything nice. She couldn’t afford anything nice. Idon’t want my heart breaking about that again. “You did all this for me?”
“Well, uh, for you and Casey. It’s the least I can do. Renting rooms to Dirk and me is lifesaving. Dad and I were gonna kill each other if we had to live in that one-bedroom apartment any longer, and Dirk’s been dying to have his own place. This is about the only way Hunter would let him.”
Right. For me and Casey. He doesn’t know that it would have been me dealing with things. He doesn’t know that it has been me dealing with things. Dealing with shit isn’t Casey’s forte and I’m fine with that. I’ve always looked after my twin, and I probably always will.
“Goes both ways. Casey and I can’t afford this place on our own. Either way, you packing this stuff up is appreciated. You have no idea. I’ve been putting it off and putting it off.”
He nods. “I know what that’s like, I … I still haven’t told you about my mom.”
