Page 13 of The Ex Puck Bunny
Booker frowns as if it’s a shame. “Went through the puppy uglies and never recovered. Thankfully, I’m aging like a fine wine.”
The happy couple laughs, exchange a quick peck, and then talk about their kids, dinner plans, and sports practice schedules.
It’s all just so adorable I could barf. I’m not bitter, but maybe a little jaded, which is a distant relation like a cousin three times removed.
There is no way I’m ready to get back into the dating world. Mostly because I don’t have the time or energy. I bite my lip and put the supplies from our side work away. The truth is I don’t trust myself to pick a good guy.
Trey and I got carried away and were married less than twenty-four hours after we first kissed. It was a flurry, a rush, a sandstorm of passion. I convinced myself that it was meant to be because we’d known each other for most of our lives.
Aleeyah wasn’t wrong. At various times, I had tween-age crushes on Trey and Grady.
When I was in eighth grade and they were in high school,Trey had already dated all the girls at Clarkson and moved on to the other nearby schools. During Homecoming week, he dated Sophia. Then the next week, he was going out with Shanna Pierson. That basically means they were practically a couple. There’s like one degree separating the two of them from kissing.
Meanwhile, Grady had a steady girlfriend junior and senior years. While I got by on my looks and athleticism, Hartleigh Nichols was the total package. She was beautiful in that effortless kind of way, played field hockey, was on the debate team, and scored the valedictorian spot at graduation.
Despite that, Grady is no different than Trey. They’re cut from the same cold, betraying sheet of ice.
Case in point, he acted like he didn’t know me, while Beer Belly knew I was a puck bunny, er, Ice Kitty and yesterday a customer called me Mrs. Dillard.
The Fish Bowl gets early bird busy—customers come in to claim tables with the best views of the televisions for big games and then camp out here all night. This means that I end up passing them off to the server on the next shift and they get the tip at the end of the night.
I should talk to Uncle Stan about a better system because my paltry sixty-five dollars and three cents—who leaves pennies for a tip?!—isn’t going to make a dent in the first, last, and security payments I need to get my own apartment.
Going home to the house I grew up in after work feels very much like a Groundhog Day situation—the movie, not the little critter who predicts the season. Puxatawny Phil did not see his shadow this year which means an early spring.
I never expected to live at home again, but the Easter decorations are up even though we have over a month to go. There’s Aleeyah’s custom wreath and also Mom’s little egg tree, a felt bunny banner, tissue paper carrots on the windows, and candybowls everywhere Bunny can’t reach. Considering jelly beans are my favorite candy in the world, maybe moving back home isn’t so bad. There’s a nest filled with glittery eggs on the dining room table, a fuzzy baby chick garland, and numerous Easter baskets around the house—some circa my childhood.
It’s comforting because even though my life has changed a lot, some things don’t.
In the kitchen, Mom is making chili and it smells divine. Dad is cueing up the VCR. Yes, he still records hockey games the archaic way. Says it’s for posterity. I greet them and find my little bunny rabbit sitting in her play area clumsily stacking wooden blocks. She waves and then gums one. She must be teething again.
But splinters! Now I have a whole new thing to keep me up at night. How would I know if Bunny had splinters in her mouth?
I scoop her up, blow raspberries on her belly, get clocked in the head with the block, and then tell her how much I love her before inspecting the thing—the toy, not my noggin. My head is solid—Derek would go so far as to say I’m pigheaded.
Thankfully, the block is smooth, Bunny is delighted to see me, and I’m ready for dinner.
I’m not a particularly nervous parent, but there are so many things that could go wrong. Being so busy, I don’t have much free time to think about them, but they linger in the back of my mind, waiting for a moment to spring and spook me, mostly at night when I’m falling asleep, hence the endless social media scrolling, harkening back to a time when the only thing I worried about was the Lions viral hockey videos.
Dad sets the table and says, “Derek is missing out. Said he can’t come home for Mom’s chili because he has a night with the boys.”
“What boys?” I ask, suspicious. If Trey has the nerve to setfoot into Cobbiton, I will find a pitchfork and a flaming torch, so help me.
“The pee wee team,” Dad says as if the kids’ hockey team he coaches weren’t obvious.
Mom adds, “Since you have to teach a lesson tonight, I’ll pack a thermos for Derek. You can bring it to him with a piece of cornbread.”
I help myself to a slice and Bunny points. Mom tells us how they made the batter together. I want nothing more than to be able to stay home and be the one who bakes with my daughter. I’m beyond grateful for my parents’ generosity, but this is not how I pictured my life to go.
After we say grace, Dad launches into his favorite pastime. “Did you hear Grady got traded to the Knights? I can’t figure out Badaszek’s calculus. The guy was coming off suspension. That’s like trying to move the contents of a safe the same day you robbed it. He’s playing with fire if you ask me.”
My mother pats his hand. “Ed, Tom Badaszek didn’t ask you. If he consulted all you armchair coaches, the Knights would be kicked out of the league.”
I stopped paying attention to our local sports news a long time ago and wonder why Grady was suspended, but if I ask, we’ll get more of my father’s commentary, and I want to hear about what I missed today while they looked after Bunny.
On cue, she excitedly tells me all about her new favoriteunee-cornshirt with sequins for its mane.
When we dig into the chili, I get a play-by-play of the rest of the day, including the acquisition of the unicorn shirt—Grandma spoils this kid—which I much prefer to any discussion about hockey, especially hockey players.
