Page 42 of O Goalie Night
After a long celebratory shower,I strut into the locker room feeling invincible. The moment I’ve cleared the doorway, music starts to blare and a chorus of whoops echo in the room.
I fight a grin as my teammates, all in various states of dress, gyrate to “Whatta Man.” This haphazard dance party seems to be in my honour and if I’m not careful, I’ll wind up getting a lap dance from Austin.
Again.
“Hear ye, hear ye, motherfuckers!” A shirtless Benjumps onto a bench and waits for everyone to quiet down before continuing. “Tonight, we toast to not only our fourth win in a row, but our second shutout in just eight days thanks to this beautiful monster.”
Several teammates reach over to pat me on my bare shoulders and Will hands me a tall boy that I accept even though I know I won’t drink it. Who needs alcohol when you’re drunk on life?
While I genuinely appreciate the recognition of my efforts, I’m ready to throw some clothes on and get home.
Ben raises his beer can and continues, “To quote a great philosopher, ‘The more you celebrate your life, the more in life there is to celebrate.’”
I eye him, sceptically. “What philosopher said that?”
“Oprah,” he answers solemnly, causing the room to break out in laughter.
“Fuck, Michaels,” Austin howls. “Read a lot of Oprah, do you?”
“Nah. Your mom talks about her a lot after we fuck and that quote just stuck with me. But this isn’t about me and Austin’s surprisingly flexible mother. This is about celebrating our team, as a team. Gentleman, we’re going out.”
Ah, Christ no.
Every other person in the room thinks it's a great idea, though. The music comes back on and the guys continue getting dressed as I stand here in my towel with an unopened beer and a bad feeling.
Ben hops off the bench and heads straight for me. “Don’t try to get out of this, man. We’re overdue for a night out. I need this.”
He’s not wrong. We haven’t gone out as a team in awhile, but it doesn’t make it any more appealing, especially when I had a very different evening in mind. And what does he mean that heneedsthis?
“Besides, what else are you going to do?” he asks, walking away.
Go home to your sister.
I told Beth I’d be home right after the game and after what she said earlier about missing her family, I don’t really want to tell her I’m ditching her to go drinking with her brother. Not that I’d be drinking. I haven’t gotten drunk in ten years. Watching your big brother descend into alcoholism really takes away the appeal.
Hurriedly, I throw on a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans, all the while trying to brainstorm solutions to this unexpected turn of events.
An idea comes to me, both terrible and brilliant. Fuck it.
“Hey,” I approach Ben as he’s putting on deodorant at his locker and get right to the point. “I think you should invite Beth tonight.”
He stares at me like I’ve sprouted a new head and started speaking with a German accent. “You want me to invite my baby sister out to party with a bunch of horned-up hockey players? Are you serious?”
I roll my eyes. “You know no one will actually try anything with her.” Not if they don’t want to die a slow and painful death at my hands, that is.
“You don’t think so?”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Would you actually fuck Austin’s mom?”
“Fair enough.”
“Look, I don’t want to overstep, but I think Beth’s pretty homesick.”
“Really?” There’s genuine concern on his face. “She seemed fine the last time I saw her.”
I don’t point out that he hasn’t seen her in almost two weeks. “I mean, it makes sense. It’s her first time being away from your family and it’s so close to Christmas.”
“I wish she’d have told me. I would have flown her home for the weekend.”
