Page 4 of How We End
“Well, I do.So talk to me.”
“McGrath wants to scratch me.”The reality of what could happen was sinking in fast.
“Fuck.”Anders sat down on the bench.“What are you going to do?”
I didn’t even know how to put into words what would fix this.“I don’t know.But I have a month to figure it out.”
Anders tossed a roll of tape into his bag.“Maybe you should talk to someone.”
“No.That will give them another reason to…” I sat down, the pain in my hip radiating down my thigh, into my knee and ankle.Admitting you needed help in the NHL was a tough thing.The team had to give you the time to fix your wrongs.But they didn’t have to save your place on the team.They could use it as a reason to send you down to the minors, freeing up cap space, or simply leave you in limbo, waiting for them to call.“It’s fine.I’ll figure it out,” I said, unwinding the tape around my shin guard.
“Jules, this is serious.”
“No shit, Andy.”I tossed the ball of tape on the floor.I had been bumped from the first line to the third.My ice time had gone from twenty minutes a game to ten.Murry didn’t ask me to do the press or intermission interviews.I knew this was coming, but it was easier to hope it wouldn’t.
“I have an idea.But you got to keep an open mind.”
“Alright.”I unlaced my skates.
“Sex,” Anders said matter-of-factly.
“Sex?”
“Yeah.When’s the last time you got laid, man?I mean, like, really fucked someone.To the point the neighbors are wondering if they should call the cops or give you a standing ovation.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?My career is on the line, and you think I need to get laid?Christ, Anders, that’s dumb even for you.Sex isn’t going to fix me.”If it were that easy, I’d pay someone.More than anything, I wanted my game back.I wanted to wake up without this weight pressing down on me.I wanted things to be back to normal.To be Julian Silver, winger for the Las Vegas Desert Coyotes.
“No, I’ve had dumber ideas.Remember that night in Minnesota?”He smiled.“Think about it.You’re letting that fucking bitch get in your head.She’s out fucking half of LA.And what are you doing?Proving she was right?”
“Proving her right?How?By not fucking half of Las Vegas?”I pulled off my skates.
“By not fucking anyone,” Anders said.
“I’m not getting into a relationship just to prove to the world that… I’m not…” A fuck-up.Washed-up.All the other things she had said that night.
“Who said anything about a relationship?”Anders stood, stripping down to his compression shorts.“I’m talking about sex.No strings attached, mind-blowing sex.”
“And what is that going to prove?”My cock wasn’t causing any issues.
“That she was wrong.Prove it to yourself she was wrong.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Then with who?”Anders asked.“Julian, I’m worried.”
“About my sex life?Christ, get a fucking hobby.”
“No, about your career.If they scratch you, what’s to stop them from never playing you again, or worse, sending you to the minors?”
“I’ll retire before that happens.”I sat up, trying to stretch the ache from my back.
“You’ll retire but you won’t try this?What is it going to hurt?”Anders finished undressing and wrapped a towel around his waist.“It might do something for your shitty attitude too.”
“Maybe if I had better friends, I wouldn’t have a shitty attitude.”
“Okay.I give up.Throw your career away.”Anders scoffed.“Let me know how retirement goes for you, old man.”
“Andy, please.”I exhaled.This game was all I had.“I’m sorry.But you can’t honestly think sex is going to solve everything?Where am I going to find the time for a girlfriend?”Plus, I was bad at relationships.My marriage to Emily proved that.There were some days I didn’t want to be around myself.How could I expect someone else to put up with me?Not to mention the eighty-two game schedule, practices, PT, and everything it took to be Julian Silver, number thirty-five.There weren’t enough hours in the day to be everything everyone needed me to be.
