Page 145 of Beyond the Lines
“Yeah.” Mike’s face brightens for the first time since we left the hospital. “I have to take a medical redshirt for the rest of this year, but I can come back and play my senior season again next year. It’s not ideal, but...”
“It’s something,” I finish for him. “And at the end of the day you’ll only be off the ice for a semester…”
“It’s something,” he agrees.
We head to the coffee shop, and I start the order. “Two coffees,” I tell the barista at the cart. “One black, one with?—”
“Two shots of espresso, splash of half-and-half, and a sugar packet that you’ll stir exactly three times,” Mike interrupts, even as the barista does her best to hide a smirk behind her hand. “Because you’re weird and think the number of stirs affects the taste.”
I glare at him. “It does.”
“Uh-huh.” He smirks, leaning on his crutches as he looks at her. “Sorry…”
The barista gets to work, with a bemused look on her face, then hands us our coffees. I guide us to a nearby bench, where Mike eases down with a wince, propping his crutches against the armrest, but it’s clear that even this brief few minutes on his feet has taxed him.
“You OK, man?” I take a sip of my coffee.
“Yeah, but fuck me. It’s been all about me for days.” He shrugs. “How areyou,Dec?”
I beam. “I’m good. Since I told everyone, it’s like a giant weight is off my shoulder.”
“And you’re actually OK with turning down the NHL? For real?” His expression is serious now, the playfulness gone. “Because Coach told me that scout was seriously impressed. Said you could’ve been a second-round draft pick, maybe even late first, and that’s a lot of moolah.”
Those words would have sent me soaring six months ago. Now they merely brush against me, acknowledged and released. “I’m not saying it wasn’t tempting, but yeah, I’m actuallyveryOK with it. I’m done.”
“And how long have you known?”
“Since...” I pause, tracing back the evolution of this certainty. “I don’t know if there was a single moment. More like a hundred little ones. Playing felt more like obligation than joy. It was you guys I enjoyed, not the game. Meanwhile, every time I picked up a pencil or brush...” I falter mid-sentence, not sure how to explain the feeling.
“You don’t have to justify it to me.” Mike’s voice is unexpectedly gentle. “I just want to make sure you’re not giving up your dreams for my sister.”
“I’m not.” The certainty in my voice surprises even me. “I’m choosing my real dream. I hope Lea’s part of that future, but she’s not the reason.” I take a sip of coffee. “Art was always there, even when hockey took center stage and even before she came along. I just never gave myself permission to put it first.”
“Shit, you’re dropping hockey and dating my sister,” he shakes his head. “That wasn’t on my Declan Andrews Senior Year bingo card…”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Without your overprotective brother routine, we might never have realized how madly in love we are.”
The words come out easily now, surprising me with their naturalness. Three months ago, I couldn’t have imagined saying them, let alone meaning them. Now they feel as comfortable as a well-worn hockey jersey, which have all been relegated to being what Lea wears when she’s sleeping or painting.
“Well…” His voice trails off, as if he’s still not sure what to say. “From what I saw, your art is awesome, dude, and I’m glad you’re sharing it with her…”
“Not all he’s doing with your sister!” Linc laughs as he approaches us from behind. “Like, I’m sure there’s a penis involved or?—”
Like he’s taking a slapshot, Mike grabs his crutch around and silences Linc by slapping him on the ass with the stick. For his part, Linc feigns pain and offense, but a second later we’re all smiling. We’re all glad to have found a new equilibrium, in our lives and in our friendship.
Already, the team had started to adjust around Mike’s injury. He’s planning to remain captain, but do his work from the bench. Linc had agreed to move into Mike’s apartment to help him out for the rest of our senior year. And I’ve agreed to play until the end of the semester, after which I hope to be focusing on the select seminar and my final art classes.
Linc plants himself on the bench on the other side of Mike. “We’ll catch up with you after your class, Dec…”
Mike clearly realizes we’ve set up a rotation of friends to look after him, but whereas a month ago he might have snapped at us, now he just nods. “Go kill it, Dec. Show thatprofessor why you deserve a spot in that seminar and why you turned down millions to draw pictures…”
I stand and give him a high-five. “With a rousing speech like that, how could I possibly fail?”
Professor Lucas’s heels click against the hardwood floor as she moves from project to project, her red pen poised like a weapon. Beside me, Lea shifts in her seat, her knee bouncing slightly against mine even after I tangle my fingers with hers.
“Nervous?” I whisper.
She gives me a look that could peel paint. “No, I just enjoy shaking like a leaf…”
