Page 122 of We Finished Here

“She’s a great chick from what I experienced in the few hours I spent with her.”

I glance up at him again, and he looks up too.

“You dawg,” I say, putting my head back down.

He doesn’t have to say it, I know something is going on.

He chuckles. “Like I said… she’s fucking sweet. More than that actually, she’s wife and mother of my kids, kinda material.”

I stare at him. “First time I'm hearing you say that last part,” I point out. I’m surprised, I’ve never heard him talk like this about anyone.

We sit in silence for a moment, until I look at him again. “Wife and mother of your kids material?” I clarify.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

We both laugh. “Well, now it’s out there,” he says. “I just hope I know what to do with it.”

* * *

But the game doesn’t go as planned and we fucking lose. Jake scores the only goal, and I’m battling with my own head for most of the game.

This isn’t a problem I normally have. But then, my mom has never been diagnosed with a brain tumor before that needs operating on in two weeks.

Dulling out the crowd isn’t working this time.

I look up to the players’ bench at Cindy watching the game, but Emmerson isn’t here. I guess why would she be? I practically kicked her out this morning.

And now we’re getting crushed by Vegas Heat. They score three goals to our one.

So not an annihilation as such, but sucky on our home ground for the first game of the finals. I know coach is going to be pissed with us.

Ulrich can only do so much in goals, and with Marty on the sidelines, our defense needs tightening and us strikers need to get some fucking goals in the net.

Coach calls a scrimmage the next day, a day before the next game.

I only see mom briefly before then, as she’s opted to watch the games from home.

How she’s keeping a positive outlook is beyond me, but maybe this is what happens to a person in a crisis. Maybe you just find the willpower and the strength to go on.

I know that’s what I have to do and adopt that same attitude.

I need to pull my fucking socks up and stop wallowing for her. I guess when the shock of it all sets in, it’s hard to get your head out of it. But we have to keep moving forward.

I take a long drive on my own the next day before the scrimmage.

Driving out of the city at a high speed always makes me feel better.

It helps me refocus.

I think about texting Emmerson, but at this point in time, I think I’ve done enough.

I want to talk to her before I go to Vegas, but I don’t even know if she will.

When I go home to grab my gear, I take a few stolen moments up on my roof deck to just sit and be for five minutes. I am trying fucking anything to get myself in the zone.

We were planning on having dinner with Cindy and Ty after the game we just played, but that doesn't end up happening. And I don’t ask Cindy anything, because right now, I don’t want to know the truth.

The second game feels better. I’m more grounded, and thank fuck we’re on home ground because when I let the crowd into my psyche it’s phenomenal.

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