Page 138 of Goalkeeper
It’s a moot point, but my dad answers his own question anyway.
“Because he’s not ruled by pussy.”
I nearly choke on my iced tea. Note to self: dad has a two wine limit…
“Those three are shacked up with their girls and their heads aren’t in the game. Sure, they’re still making plays and their stats are good, but think of what their numbers could be if they had no distractions. You and Goodwin? You’re smart—no girlfriend drama.” He looks right at me, and for a second, I could swear he’s challenging me. But that’s crazy. There’s no way he knows about Paige. And yeah, I’m nearly twenty years old, so I need to find my balls and tell my dad I’m seeing someone, but I just don’t have room in my head right now for the shitstorm that that statement would create.
My dad takes another sip of wine and continues spewing his words of wisdom. “All your time can be focused on your game, not on random pussy. And, unlike Goodwin, you’re going pro. Do I think you’re celibate? Fuck, no. But I also know you’re smart—too smart to hitch yourself to some college co-ed just for regular sex. Trust me: it’s overrated.”
Jesus. I need to get out of here. Everything about this conversation—including the veiled reference to my mom—what the fuck?—is more than I can handle right now. I tell him I need to get back to the hockey house for a team meeting, which is a lie, but he’s a little tipsy and he takes the bait. He settles the check and I call for a Lyft.
The trip back to the hockey house is quick, but it gives me just enough time to process that unsettling dinner with my dad. Thank Christ Paige had the LSATs today and is probably fast asleep or celebrating with her girls, and I need some time to process shit. Like, when did my dad turn into a total asshole? And a misogynist? Or have I just been blind to it this whole time?
19
Paige
I’ve been to the rink before, but only for games, and only with hundreds of other students piling in alongside me as I walk in. Tonight, it’s just me. We’re filming Spence’s portion of our How-to speech, and, like I guessed, he’s teaching me how to hockey.
Spencer and a couple of his teammates are already here. Their practice just ended, but a few of the guys are sticking around to help film. I make my way to the women’s locker room and find skates and a helmet waiting for me with a note that saysKick their asses!<3 Faith. Seb Hunter’s girlfriend has way more confidence in me than is warranted, but it was sweet of her to get me a pair of skates and a helmet to borrow. I pull on the socks I brought and lace up the skates. They’re different than the figure skates I wore as a kid, and I’m really hoping that ice-skating is like riding a bike...
I hobble to the door to find Spence waiting for me in the hall. “You ready?”
“I hope so. These skates feel so weird. I’m gonna fall flat on my ass.”
“It’ll take a little adjustment, but you’ll be fine. You said you skated as a kid, right?”
“Yea, but I haven’t been on the ice in probably five years. And I forgot how fucking cold it is. And I never had to wear a helmet. Am I going to be able to see out of this thing?”
He just laughs. “Trust me, you need the helmet. And once we get moving, you’ll warm up. And I promise not to let you fall. There’s no way I’m letting anything happen to this perfect ass.”
I slip on the helmet and follow him out to the rink. We skate onto the ice, and it’s a good thing we’re holding hands and he’s guiding me. I can stay upright, but I definitely feel wobbly. I recognize a couple of the guys from our class. One of them is lining up pucks and the other is standing behind a tripod.
“Hey, Paige,” Ethan, the hockey-player-turned-camera-guy greets me.
“Hey. Thanks for helping us.” Everybody in our class has to film their speeches, but our set-up is more elaborate than most, so we had to recruit some outside help.
“No worries,” he says and goes back to fiddling with the camera.
“I’m gonna grab you a stick,” Spence tells me, but I grip his hand so tightly that he can’t skate away.
“Don’t leave me—”
“You’re fine. Here, just let go of my hand. I promise, I’m not going anywhere yet. That’s it. Ok, now, to keep from falling over, just shift your weight from foot to foot, yep, just like that.” He skates away and I balance on the ice. It’s been years, and the skates are weird, but some of the basic skills are coming back to me.
“Where are your pads?” I ask Spence as he hands me a stick. I can barely recognize him when he’s in full gear, I just know I’m cheering for the guy in our net.
“No goalie needed. We’re just shooting pucks in the net. It’ll be a lot easier if there’s no one to block them, obviously.”
“You’re teaching me to shoot? I thought I was going to play against you!”
“Uh, are you the same woman who wouldn’t let go of my hand three minutes ago?” he asks.
“Yes, but...fine. So, you’re teaching me to shoot. But you don’t do that.”
He smiles. “Not really. I mean, when I do, it’s to keep the puck out of my net. But this is just a basic wrist shot— easy. And we only have five minutes, so I figured this was the quickest, easiest skill I could teach.”
“Makes sense. But what are the other hockey players doing for their projects? Aren’t you stealing their thunder?”
