Page 6 of The Poster Boy
“Did you bring any real clothes?” she asked with a watery laugh as she pulled me into her arms.Still too devastated to speak, I shook my head.
“Doesn’t matter,” she informed me. “I’ll get it sorted out in the morning.”
She came home the next day with all my stuff. She’d been renting a one-bedroom apartment, and most of my things soon lived in the tiny storage closet. I slept on hercouch, and it was her advocacy for me that kept me in the game.
Kelsey had saved me time and time again. Leaving her behind was excruciating, though I had managed to keep it together until I was alone. I boarded the plane with a thousand-pound weight on my chest and a tightness in my throat I couldn’t swallow around.
Only when I made it to the apartment the team rented for me did I finally crack. I was starting over again. Against my will. Again. It felt like every time I got comfortable, life liked to throw me into the deep end of the ocean.
The team liaison had said the apartment was small, but honestly it was the largest space I’d ever had all to myself. It boasted two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The apartment I’d shared with Kelsey could fit in it twice over with room to spare.
Kelsey was packing up my things and was going to have them shipped to me. I’d taken nothing more than my hockey gear and a couple suitcases of clothes and personal items. My heart constricted when I thought of all I’d had to leave behind.
I hung my garment bag in my closet, then declared myself unpacked. I no sooner sprawled out on my new couch when my phone started to go off.
Kelsey
You better not be sulking.
I don’t sulk.
Get out and explore your new city.
I have to unpack.
You didn’t bring anything to unpack.
I need my beauty rest.
I will kick your ass, Marek.
Fine. Fine. I’m going.
I expect photographic evidence of your explorations. Have fun!!!
The apartment the team provided me was so close to the arena that I could see it from my living room windows. And there were a lot of them. An entire wall was nothing but glass, floor to ceiling. There was a small balcony that faced another tall wall of glass and more balconies. In some small way, I liked the anonymity of a big city. The ability to blend in and disappear was greater here than it was in the small town I’d grown up in.
It was that anonymity that had me out the door a few minutes later. I pulled on a light jacket and a baseball cap, and boarded the skytrain. Kelsey had probably meant for me to learn my immediate surroundings, not sit on a train and snap pictures out of the window at the different places I let pass me by. Maybe another day I’d get off on some of the different stops and do some more thorough exploring, but for now it was kind of meditative to ride and take it all in.
I didn’t get off the train until a couple hours had passed, and I had made it back to my stop. If anyone asked me what I saw, I wouldn’t have been able to tell them. I’d spent the whole experience trapped in my head. I grabbed some takeout on the way back to my apartment and forced the food down, despite not feeling hungry. I knew better than to deprive my body of fuel.
It wasn’t long before the silence of my apartment got to me, and I found myself with my shoes back on and out the door again. This time I headed for the arena. I wasn’texpected until the next day to join the team for practice, but I wasn’t going inside anyway. I stared up at my new rink from the street and tried to center myself. Leaving Kelsey behind had left me feeling more adrift than I expected.
I walked around the arena just to familiarize myself with the building and my new surroundings a bit more. I’d never lived so close to an ocean before, and the air seemed thicker and wetter, but not unpleasant. It did mean that the damp air made me cold faster than I’d anticipated it would, and I turned around to go back the way I came. Maybe I’d find a supermarket nearby and grab some staples for home.
Suddenly, three familiar men poured out of the arena. I’d spent the entire plane ride memorizing the names and faces of my new teammates. Boone Weimer, left wing. He looked just as friendly as he did in all the pictures of him. The guy had a broad smile and eyes that twinkled. He had an arm slung around Tony Church’s shoulders. Tony Church, the goalie. The one I’d be playing back-up for. He looked a lot happier in his pictures than he did in that moment. And behind them, Jay Brookbank, defense.
Tony noticed me first, because of course he did. Boone noticed me next, and it was him who broke the ice.
“Marek Myers, we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Boone stepped forward and extended a hand.
I shook it, very aware suddenly of how fucking awkward I felt. “I was just taking a walk around. Getting familiar with the place.”
Boone dropped my hand, and I extended it to Tony next. “It’s good to meet you, Tony.”
He shook my hand but didn’t seem to have much to say. The worst thing was, I understood. Tony was pushing thirty, and he was in a slump. And here came a younger guy, nipping at his heels for his job. With any luck, I could pushhim out of his slump just by being around. Sure, I desperately wanted to be someone’s number one goalie, but I had faith that it would happen when it was meant to. Tony Church was a good guy, even if the fans had given him the unfortunate nickname the Holey Goalie.
I extended my hand to Jay next. It was hard to get a read on the silent defenseman, but it wasn’t hard to appreciate how hot he was. He wore jeans that looked like they’d been painted on and a hoodie that was a size too big, even on a guy like Jay who had shoulders as wide as a doorway. His signature curly hair was tucked under his hoodie, but I was able to see his hazel eyes and the way they pierced into me like spears. He kept his hands tucked away in the front pocket of his hoodie until Boone reached over and slapped him upside the back of the head.
