Page 63 of Unmasking Love
And thus a goalie was born.
My parents were so proud when I was selected to join the Alberta Juniors League at 14. There are families who volunteer to house players so I settled in with a host family and everything was hockey.
Until it wasn’t.
I couldn’t keep my spot after my heart attack so after rehab I went back to Minnesota to play in the NAHL. But the team wasn’t the team closest to my parents so they sold their house and bought a condo that was closer to the hospital than the rink.
All my doctors told us I would be fine. That the surgery was a success and I had taken my recovery seriously. I wore a monitor and kept my heart rate in check. My bloodwork was solid. But I wasn’t treated like the rising star anymore.
No, I was treated like the best available backup goalie and that title has stuck. College scouts didn’t care about my pre-episode stats. They didn’t care that I was performing as well as, if not better than, before my surgery. I hadbecome a player with baggage. Someone a team might have to worry about.
I was drafted in the late rounds and went on to be a second string goalie at a D1 school, but then it was a few years in the minors before being bounced around to seven different teams in the NHL.
I’ve been on the move, living in different cities, countries even, for hockey for half my life. And now I’m here in D.C. and I have joined in a group costume for halloween. They’re treating me like a teammate even though we’re 12 games into the season and I’ve played once. Not much of a team player.
I’ll admit, that isn’t too unusual but it seems the management here is more of a 20% backup team instead of a 40%. Most of the teams I’ve been on are that way. There are a few franchises that have more of an even split.
The difference is that here in D.C., I’m involved with the boys. I’m on the group texts, I’m invited to parties. Locker rooms have always been friendly enough but Felix and the boys take it off the ice unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.
We have a game tomorrow so Felix is hosting this party at his place, no club scene for the team tonight. There is only light beer and not a lot of it. He did stock the drink buckets with a wide assortment of sparkling waters. I’ve known guys who won’t drink at all during the season. Some who will but only the night after a game. Since I don’t know when exactly I’m going to be playing I haven’t developed a tight pregame routine. I also don’t pay attention to drinking or not since most nights are off for me.
And Felix decided to start this party early. It’s just after 3 and he wants the team here by 4:30. Plus ones are welcome whenever. I told Harper 6 which was the latest I was willing to push it but the closest to a normal party time as I could get.
Some of the guys bring their kids and partake in trick-or-treating and Felix has a giant cauldron of king-sized candy bars to hand out to anyone who stops by. His neighborhood is exclusive but not gated off so I imagine once word gets out, his house will become a destination. That’s probably exactly what he wants.
***
I haven’t heard from Harper since she sent me a photo of the drink I sent her. That was almost three hours ago. My ugly ass mustard suit is starting to itch and the halloween themed music is getting annoying. I have moved to the front room where I had a clear view of the door because I would rush to the foyer every time the doorbell rang. I was starting to feel a little obsessive.
And I was right about Felix’s house being a destination.
Luckily we have only been pulled in for group photos a few times. Mostly when older kids are at the door and want to post they came to Felix Fornier’s house.
I chug back the rest of my blueberry lime sparkling water and head to the kitchen to recycle it. The doorbell rings again and I force myself to finish my task before running to check if it’s her.
I hear hellos as Felix answers and then calls out, “Young Gun, Harper is here!”
“Ohmygosh are you Stanley Ipkiss?” Harper’s voice warms me like sunshine on a cloudy day.
“The Mask?” I ask as I gesture to my non-green face. “Unfortunately no, I am the famed and revered Colonel Mustard.”
“From Clue! I love it.” She grins. Fuck, her smile is electric. Even under cat whiskers. She’s wearing a black bodysuit, tights, and another little skirt. It’s similar to the one she wore last night but this one is black and has a cut out onher thigh. “Should I be looking for mustard color motifs? Would that make you more likely to want to see a property?”
“Probably not.”
“True, your place was…” Harper trails off.
“What?”
“Bitch, do not pretend you didn’t describe every detail to me on the way over. Hi, Aiden.” Wes interrupts. “Why isn’t there any booze here? Did someone decide to go as the sister wives and force their beliefs on us?”
“Uh, not that I know of. There’s a game tomorrow so we’re on a curfew.”
“Really?” Harper asks.
“Yeah, it’s not strict for me since I won’t be playing but most of the guys will be heading home soon to get to bed.”
Wes checks the time on his watch. “Huh, professional hockey players are boring.”
