Page 73 of How We End
“Tell them it’s concussion protocol.”
“You think that’s better?What are you at now?Two?”Coach Sanders shook his head.
“If you tell them it’s upper body, they are going to know it’s my shoulder, and every fucking player from here to Montreal will try to hit it.I’ll be out for the season.”
Sanders ran a hand over his mouth.“I can’t lie.And if you get hit again, you will be out for the season.”
“It’s not lying.You can’t prove I don’t have a concussion.”I pressed my left hand to my lip.The taste of blood was making my stomach turn.“You know it’s for the best.”My career was ending, but I didn’t want it to end like this, me broken.
Sanders scrubbed his face.“I’ll talk to Murry.Get cleaned up.”He touched my other shoulder as he left.
“Fuck.”I paced the floor, pissed at myself for not seeing Host and for not taking that little shit out sooner.All night Host had been just on the edge of a penalty.A hooking the refs didn’t see, a cross-check a little too hard.And now this.
“Julian, you have a visitor in the family area,” someone called.
Shit, Wyatt.Great time for her to see a game.The game was still going on as I crossed to the family area.The large room was empty except for one, and it wasn’t Wyatt standing there.It was Emily.
“I don’t want to see you.”I turned to leave.
“Julian, wait,” Emily called.
Leave,everything screamed.
“Please, it’ll take a minute.It’s about the house.”
“What about it?”I wanted to sell the house.She wanted to keep it.She was supposed to be getting financing.
“Are you okay?”She took a hesitant step forward.“Is it your shoulder again?”
“What about the house?”
“Can you try not to be so hostile?I’m worried about you.Host hit you pretty hard, and I know how bad?—”
“If that’s all you wanted, you can leave.”The blood and the pain were making my stomach turn and limbs feel light.Or maybe it was the woman standing in front of me.The last thing I needed was for Wyatt to see her.
“Julian, please.You look like you’re about to pass out.And you’re bleeding.Let me help you.”This wasn’t the Emily I knew.She didn’t rush to make sure I was okay.She didn’t want to deal with the blood and snot.The rehab and the fallout.
“Since when do you give a shit about me?”I shifted my weight; I couldn’t wait to get this gear off.For this night to be over.The TV over Emily’s shoulder showed there were still seven minutes left in the game.The game was still tied, and that fucker Host was back on the ice.
“Since now.I told you I’m trying.”She gave me a warm smile.“I’m working on myself.Now sit and let me help you.”She moved to wipe the blood I could feel drying on my face.
“Don’t.”I knocked her hand away.“What about the house?”
“I have an appointment tomorrow with the bank.My dad said he would help.”She twisted the large wedding ring on her finger.The one she had thrown at me that night.“And I want to apologize.I was wrong the other day.I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“Okay.Now you can go.”I watched the door, hoping Wyatt would not walk in.
“Is she here?”Emily turned.“Is that what this is about?You don’t want her to see me.I’m your wife, Julian.She better get used to me.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”Maybe I had hit my head a little too hard.“We’re divorcing.”
“No.”She tossed the paper towel in the trash.“I want counseling.My lawyer says I have every right to ask for that.That the courts don’t like marriages ending, especially for the reasons ours did.”
“You slept with another man.What is there to get counseling about?”
“It’s more than that, and you know it.”She crossed her arms over her chest.“You saw the test.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”I pointed at her.
