Page 3 of O Goalie Night
“Still the best-selling jersey on the team,” Tony reminds me.
For five years straight.
I’ve been incredibly fortunate to play for this team. I was drafted by the Ottawa Otters at age eighteen late in the first round. I spent the next twenty months finishing up my junior career before moving on to Ottawa’s AHL farm team, the Belleville Badgers. I got called up to the Otters five years ago and have been their starting goalie ever since.
Growing up in Renfrew, Ontario, the fans immediately embraced me as a hometown boy, making me a fan favourite from the very start.
I hand the jersey back to him and pat him on the arm. “Wish Hunter a happy birthday for me.”
“Thanks, Mr. Foster. I will. And good luck in Florida this weekend!”
“Thanks, Tony. I’ll need it.”
We’ve lost the last two times we’ve played the Panthers on their home ice and I plan to end that streak on Saturday.
A text comes in from Ben with his sister’s flight information and address as I’m climbing into my Lexus LX.
As much as I don’t want to spend my evening making forced conversation with someone I barely know, it’s not like I have anything else going on. I’ll pick her up, drop her off, and still be home in time to stretch and be in bed early. We leave for a full week of away games tomorrow and I want to be rested.
When I pull out of the parking garage I’m momentarily blinded by the midday sun. It may look beautiful, but the temperature has been dropping steadily over the last few weeks. We haven’t had any snow yet, but it can’t be long now.
I turn on the radio hoping to hear the weather forecast, but instead the radio announcer gives me unwelcome news.
“It’s November first and you know what that means! You better watch out and you better not pout! Only fifty-five days until Christmas, folks!”
As if on cue, snowflakes start floating through the mostly clear sky, melting the moment they land on my windshield.
Humbug.
CHAPTER 2
BETH
“Excuse me…I’m so sorry, could I just get by you…thank you…oh I’m terribly sorry…I just need to grab my bag.”
I manage to make my way to the baggage carousel without stepping on anyone, but just barely. The flight in from Charlottetown was full, and apparently every single passenger checked a bag. I spot my luggage coming around the bend of the conveyor belt, easily identifiable by the shockingly pink scarf my mother insisted on tying around the handle before I left.
I don’t even like pink.
My hand grabs the brightly adorned handle and I haul the overstuffed suitcase off the conveyor belt before it goes around for another trip, nearly pulling a muscle in the process.
Man, that’s heavy. What on Earth did I put in this thing?
Oh, yeah.Everything.
I had a plan. I was going to spend the first three weeks of December prepping for my move to Ottawa. Then, theday after Boxing Day, I‘d make the fourteen-hour drive with my sister, Ally, and her husband, Mitchell, in my dad’s minivan. They’d help me move in, we’d do some touristy things, and then they’d drive home after New Year’s.
It was a great plan and I was genuinely looking forward to having an adventure and getting to spend time with my sister and her new husband.
But plans change. One minute I was making road trip playlists on my phone of the bangers that got me through junior high school; the next, I was booking a one-way flight and attempting to pack my life into one regulation-size suitcase.
After reading a self-help book titledThe Answer Is Always Yes, I’ve been trying to step out of my comfort zone. I’ve been getting steady work as a substitute in Prince Edward Island’s Public School Board, but decided to look at job postings in other provinces.
Ottawa has always been one of my favourite cities and I cried when I received the offer to cover a maternity leave at Stittsville Elementary. My mom also cried, but those were tears of sadness about her baby moving thirteen hundred kilometres away.
“I just don’t like the idea of you all alone in a big city,” she’d said when I announced the move to my family over Sunday dinner.
“Ottawa is one of the safest cities in Canada, Mom,” I insisted.
