Page 96 of Cherry Picking
I miss Griff, but I forgot how much I also miss the team. Not playing has been a reality I’ve had months to accept and mourn, but my team? My friends?
Whatever it is I do with my life post-hockey, I wasn’t prepared for losing them, too.
Maybe when they come to Colorado in a few days for a game, I’ll plan something with them. If I can stomach seeing Griff without being able to touch him.
Figure your shit out, Riley.
You can wallow or you can fix things.
If only I knew how.
Midnight hits, and I think of Griff and I standing outside our apartment, leaning on the rail and watching fireworks go off in the distance.
I think of his hand on my collar, pulling me down for a New Year kiss that quickly transforms into us rushing back inside to take each other’s clothes off.
Instead, I’m sitting on a park bench staring up at a pitch black sky illuminated by colorfully decorated lamp posts,listening to the cheers of drunk teenagers as they welcome in another year of resolutions bound to slip down the drain.
I should make one, shouldn’t I?
I close my eyes and hold my breath, trying to think of anything other than “get your goddamn shit together”, because that’s a big task, and I need a more tangible goal.
My lungs burn, and my breath comes out in a slow, steady stream.
Fix what I broke … whatever that means.
It’s in the car on the drive home with Parker at almost two in the morning that I break down.
Not the car.
Me.
First, it’s a prickle in my eyes that I ignore.
A burning sensation that I try to blink and rub away.
Then, it’s my lungs.
Quivering and shaking my shoulders no matter how tightly I try to hold myself together.
When the tears fall, I don’t acknowledge them. Parker is staring out the window, yawning and rubbing at his eyes, so he doesn’t notice.
When we hit a red light that’s a little too long for how late it is, the weariness starts to kick in.
I scrub a hand over my eyes and take a shaky breath.
“Mom is worried about you,” Parker says in a small voice. “That’s why she sent you out.”
“I know.”
He twists in his seat as much as the seatbelt will allow.
“I’m worried about you, too.”
“I appreciate that, bud, but I’m fine.”
Parker snorts and rolls his eyes. “Liar. If you miss your boyfriend, you can always go home.”
“Thisismy home, Parker.”
