Healthy Scratch

by Robyn M Ryan

  Kyle nodded and motioned for him to sit. “Saw you make the play with your face. Dust?”

  Dave shrugged. “Assuming that.”

  “Let me look.” After applying the saline solution several times, Kyle had Dave wash the remaining dust from his face. “Feel any grit? Discomfort?”

  Dave shut his eyes, then blinked a few times before his eyes cleared. “Nope. All good. Thanks, man.”

  He rejoined the group, keeping complete focus on the soccer ball. His teammates continued the trash talk.

  “Martini, that’s not what coach meant about keeping your eyes on the puck…or, in this case, the ball.”

  “Good use of your head.”

  “Don’t try this at home—or on the ice.”

  He saluted all with his finger, then steered the ball toward Rogers, catching him by surprise. Good reflexes kept the soccer ball in the air as he returned the one-finger salute.

  By the end of the game, Dave felt the tension slip away and focused on his pregame rituals. Fluids, taping his sticks, donning his equipment in his specified manner. Left skate first, always. He leaned back against the wall as the coaches rehashed the game strategy and coverage assignments. Evenly matched, both teams needed the points in the playoff rankings. Each team had its sights on the top spot in the division. Dave chuckled when a voice murmured, “Just don’t win the fucking President’s Trophy.” More than a few Suns considered winning the trophy for the best record in the league a curse during the playoffs. The past few seasons, the team with the best record departed long before the Final, so Dave tended to agree with those believing the curse. After the coaches left, he closed his eyes, visualizing plays in his mind.

  His thoughts drifted to Lauren. Has she heard anything? His hand reached for his cell phone but quickly withdrew it. Focus, Martin. The game. You can’t do anything from here. Yet, try as he might, it was not so easy to shove worries to the back of his mind.

  He looked up when Peterson tapped his stick against his shin. “No warm-up for you?”

  Shaking his head, Dave followed the captain onto the ice. Focus, Martin.

  #

  Catching up with Tom over dinner distracted Lauren as she enjoyed bantering with Andrew’s brother. After the past year, she looked at him as the older brother she’d always wished she had. With his neurology residency at the hospital, Tom’s free time came sporadically, and the few days off revolved around his nephew and niece.

  “So, you couldn’t keep them awake for me?” he teased Caryn as they finished dinner.

  “You’ll see them soon enough. Be careful what you ask for, Tom. They’ll interrupt the game.”

  “Got you covered.” Tom caught Lauren’s eye. “Your Godparents await those angels.”

  Lauren smothered a laugh when she realized Tom probably didn’t know she’d moved in with Dave. “You have time to go anywhere with Katie? Or are you just friends?”

  “As much as our schedules allow, we go out. We’re working different shifts, so we see each other coming and going.” He shrugged with a grin. “Not conducive to spending time together.”

  “Almost like trying to spend time with a hockey player during the season.” Lauren’s thoughts shifted to Dave. Probably warming up about now. Wish I was there—or he here. “When’s the pregame show?”

  Caryn glanced at her watch. “Just a few minutes.” She stood to clear the table, but Tom waved her aside.

  “I’ve got it. Go relax.”

  Lauren picked up two platters, then set them on the counter when she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. Cassie? Her stomach clenched when Amanda’s name appeared on the screen. “Excuse me, Tom. I need to answer this.” She greeted her sister as she stepped through the sunroom to the lanai. “Amanda, good news?”

  “I hoped you had some good news.” Her sister’s tone hit Lauren like a bucket of ice.

  “No, I would have called you if I’d heard from Cassie. You know that.”

  “Do I, Lauren?”

  “What do you mean? Of course, I’d tell you.” Lauren took a breath to control her nerves. “Nothing from Cassie at all?”

  “Not even a text.” Amanda’s tone hardened. “You’ve heard nothing from her?”

  “No. I wish I could tell you something. I’ve left at least a dozen texts and voice messages. I think her phone’s turned off or the battery’s dead. I can fly out tonight.” Lauren didn’t dare mention contacting the authorities to report a missing person.

  “What can you do here?”

  “Help look for her. Visit her friends. Someone must know something.”

  Her sister’s next words felt like a slap. “I’m sure someone knows more than they’re letting on. I’m sure you’re too busy with your ‘job’ to be much help.”

  Lauren blinked back the hot tears. “I’m never too busy, Amanda.”

  “Not even with your new—or should I say—re-used boyfriend? That’s one more thing you’ve neglected to tell me.” Amanda's laugh was bitter. “You thought I wouldn’t find out? For someone who’s supposedly an expert in social media, keep track of your own online profile. I enjoyed having a friend forward photos of you and your hot hockey player posted all over Instagram.”

  “I’m not hiding my relationship with Marty.” Lauren’s temper simmered. “I know how you feel about men and pro athletes. He’s a good person, Amanda. I’m happy I took the chance, and we’ll see where things go.”

  “Don’t expect any sympathy when he finds someone better.”

  “Don’t want. Won’t need.” Lauren disconnected the call and then stared at the screen for a long time. What’s happened to my sister? Does she hate me that much? Of course, I want to do everything I can to find Cassie. I’d never lie about something like that. If I knew where she was, I’d tell her. Lauren wiped the tears that spilled from her eyes with the back of her hand. Maybe she’s felt this way all along? A surge of anger raced through her, and she threw her phone against the side of the pool. It splashed into the water, and Lauren shook her head as it floated toward the bottom. Smart, Gentry.

  “You sure you want to drown it?” The voice startled her, and Lauren saw Tom walking toward her.

  “No…”

  “Hang on.” Tom kicked off his shoes and jumped into the water. Within seconds, he resurfaced, soaking wet, phone in hand.

  Lauren took the phone, then extended her hand as he climbed from the pool. “You didn’t need to do that, Tom.”

  He shrugged, pulling the drenched T-shirt over his head. “Planned to swim laps until the game starts.” His eyes caught hers. “You okay?”

  “Frustrated and angry with my sister. All I accomplished was to destroy my phone and make you jump into the pool. I’m sorry, Tom.”

  He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t turn it on. Fill a jar with rice. I’ve heard it will dry electronics if you seal the jar and leave it for twenty-four hours.”

  Lauren giggled. “Seriously? Maybe I should just go to the Apple Store.”

  “Worth a try.”

  Lauren’s stomach clenched. What if Cassie tries to call? I need to send her a text…Amanda, too. Not that she wants to know. “Thanks, Tom. I’ll see if there’s enough rice for this experiment. Anyone tell you that you’re the best?”

  His smile chased the cold feeling away. “Maybe once or twice.”

  24

  DAVE PULLED THE jersey off and flung it into the bin in the center of the locker room. Worst fucking game I’ve played since Juniors. No focus. Couldn’t grab a pass or defend a play. Thanks to me we’re behind four-zip. Top it all, instigate a dumb-ass fight and catch a game misconduct. All in the first period. What the fuck, Martin?

  He avoided his teammates’ glances when the Suns entered at the end of the first period. “Martin, a word,” Harper directed, nodding toward the hallway. Peterson’s stick tapped the back of his leg as Dave stood and followed the coach to an empty training room.

  Harper leaned against the trainer’s table. “You have
the flu? Hiding an injury?”

  “No, sir. I’m fine. Just can’t find my game. I know I’ve put the team in a hole.”

  “You’re not the only one whose game’s lacking, Martin. Put it behind you. I’ll expect your usual game next time.”

  “You’ll get it, Coach.”

  Instead of replaying the first period repeatedly, Dave showered and grabbed his gym shorts and a T-Shirt and took his frustrations to the stationary bike. As it had all day, his thoughts drifted to Lauren, hoping that Cassie had surfaced. That’s where his mind was during the first period. Is this how it goes when you’re in a relationship? How do the guys block everything from their minds? Better get with the program, or I’ll be playing on the fourth line…or worse.

  #

  Lauren called it a night after Dave’s ejection. Emotionally exhausted, she also suspected that Dave would be in no mood to talk after the game. With her phone buried in rice, she grabbed her iPad and composed a quick iMessage.

  “Why don’t you stay over?” Caryn invited as Lauren gathered her devices to return home.

  “Nah, I’m not good company. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have a landline, do you?” Tom asked. When Lauren shook her head, he offered his phone.

  “Don’t you need it for emergencies?”

  “I’m covered.” He picked up a second phone from the side table. “Work phone. Go on, take mine.”

  “You’re not expecting any calls or messages?” Lauren’s smile teased.

  “Nope. All good.” He stood and placed the phone in her hand. “Remember, keep your phone on rice until tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. Thanks, Tom. I promise not to destroy it.”

  It was Tom’s turn to smirk. “Whatever helps, Lauren.”

  Lauren stopped to send Dave another text explaining why she’d borrowed Tom’s phone. Don’t think this will surprise him. He knows my “tendency” to act impulsively. And he’ll remind me…every so often. She next sent a joint text to Amanda and Cassie, asking either and or both to use this number to call or text while her phone “needs service.”

  Amanda responded, not including Cassie, and reiterated her directive not to get involved any further. She’d contact Lauren when she had news. By the time she reached the house, Lauren felt the heavy weight of self-doubt and guilt. Has everything been just one big lie? How long has Amanda felt this way? Maybe it wasn’t her “choice” to become my guardian. Maybe Amanda had no choice…and blames me for her failed marriage, the tension at home, and then my own years acting out as a teenager—obviously that set an excellent example for Cassie. Was I oblivious? Desperate for a typical family? Was what I thought was a family just a façade?

  Did Amanda’s irritation center on not taking her advice about the job in Europe? She thought her sister was proud of her career, her partnership with Caryn. Lauren knew that Amanda expected her to follow her “suggestions,” but could this one decision change her opinion so drastically? The younger Lauren, always eager to please and seek approval, followed every suggestion Amanda offered—even to the point of capitulating to her gap year objection. The adult Lauren no longer sought her sister’s support—though she had asked for advice about the European job offer. Maybe since Lauren had not followed that advice, Amanda felt angry and disappointed with her? She realized that not mentioning Dave had also backfired, giving Amanda the opportunity to vent her frustrations and opinions about men. Lauren wondered how much influence their mother had over Amanda now that they’d reconnected.

  Lauren closed the front shutters and locked the door before wandering into the room she’d claimed for her office, her private space. She carefully set Tom’s phone on the bedside table, and then stood under a hot shower until the water ran cool. She didn’t want to use the massive shower in the master bedroom with Dave gone. Why do I miss him so much? If he were here…What could he do, Gentry? He can’t make Cassie come home, can’t make things right with Amanda, can’t make me believe I’m not a screw-up. Besides, how many times have I said I don’t need some guy flying in on a private jet to solve every problem? Then, why do I want…need…crave his arms around me telling me everything will work out?

  She wrapped a towel around her head and pulled sleep shorts and a flannel shirt from her dresser. The flannel shirt fit her like a dress—she’d taken it from Dave’s closet, and so far, he hadn’t missed it. After the heat from the shower dissipated, she shivered in the air-conditioned room. The flannel warmed her inside and out.

  Glancing out the window, she noticed the sun about to set. Taking Tom’s phone with her, she moved to the screened porch and watched the sun sink below the horizon against a luscious pink backdrop. Red sky at night… Lauren locked the door behind her when she reentered the house, checking all entries and closing the blinds before activating the alarm. The master bedroom called to her. Maybe she’d feel closer to Dave? She detoured to the kitchen for a bottle of water, but the opened bottle of cabernet also caught her attention. She pulled a glass from the cabinet, then grasped both the wine and her water bottle. Maybe a glass of wine would stop her mind’s racing from worry to guilt to confusion. How could everything turn so upside down in just a few days?

  #

  At first amused by Lauren’s text about her phone ending up in the pool, Dave realized that frustration or anger probably motivated the act. He waited until he’d returned to his hotel room, then held his phone to call her. He hesitated before pressing her number. Could they talk without him injecting his sour mood into the conversation? Maybe he should wait until morning?

  He reread her text from Tom’s phone. Typical Lauren self-deprecating humor used to deflect attention from herself. Did she want him to call? The message supplied no hint, nor did she mention Cassie. At least, he needed to call her and offer support if her niece had not contacted either her mother or Lauren.

  Shoving his own frustrations to the back of his consciousness, he pressed the number, glancing at his watch. Hope I don’t wake her. He prepared to leave a message after the fourth ring, but Lauren answered, her voice subdued.

  “Hey, sorry about the game tonight.”

  “Happens to everyone now and then, babe.”

  “What did that guy do to make you go ballistic?” Lauren’s tone perked up, and Dave could almost picture a teasing smile cross her face.

  “You know, at the time it seemed like a big deal, but now I don’t remember. Giving up four goals may have played a factor.” He paused a beat. “I won’t ask for the back story on your phone’s moisture test. Have either you or Amanda heard from Cassie?”

  Lauren’s laugh was abrupt, without humor. “Not a word. I should have called Amanda this morning. I didn’t even think about the time difference. She could have stopped Cassie.”

  “Maybe, but she may have checked out of school early anyway. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “Kind of hard not to—Amanda told me that it’s my fault.”

  Dave winced at the hint of hurt in her voice. “She’s just worried, squirt. She can’t mean that.”

  “Oh yes, she does. I’m not to contact either she or Cassie. Amanda will let me know if Cassie surfaces…if she decides I need to know.”

  “Did she say that? In those words?”

  “More like butt out, do not contact Cassie, don’t bother Amanda, and she’d keep me posted.”

  Dave grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge. “That’s why your phone took a swim?” He shrugged off his suit jacket and laid it across the back of a chair.

  “Yeah…mostly.”

  He heard the evasiveness in her answer but ignored it. “Why don’t we FaceTime? Even though I didn’t score a goal and played the shittiest game of my life.” He loosened his tie and tossed it on the chair.

  “I only watched the first period, but no one played well, Marty. So, don’t put the loss on you.”

  “Only if you’ll quit thinking Cassie’s antics fall on your shoulders.” Dave stood before the row of windows overlooking t
he city, once again awed by its vastness.

  “Maybe.” Lauren didn’t sound convinced. “I’m not terrific company tonight. I’m sorry—let’s talk tomorrow instead. Is that okay?”

  “And you won’t obsess over what your sister said? Or your niece?”

  “Try not to. Hopefully, the bottle of the cab we opened the other day will put me to sleep. I know, drinking alone…”

  “I’ve got a beer. Pour yourself a glass—we’ll drink together.”

  She laughed. “You goof. My glass is full. Cheers!”

  Dave heard her glass tap against the side of the phone, so he did the same. “Here’s to a better day, babe.”

  “And a better game.”

  He listened as she sipped her wine, then took a long drink of beer. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”

  “Sure, but I don’t plan to think about anything until I wake up tomorrow. A couple of glasses of this and I’m deep asleep.”

  Dave laughed. “Water and ibuprofen on the table?”

  “Yep. Totally prepared.”

  “Take your time drinking.”

  “Yes, Dad.” Lauren giggled. “I’m fine, Marty. Just a nice dreamless sleep.”

  “Call me when you wake up—whatever time it is, okay?”

  “Promise.” She paused a few seconds. “Thanks for listening to me ramble.”

  “You didn’t. I would even if you babbled. Sweet dreams, babe.”

  25

  LAUREN GROANED WHEN Tom’s cellphone buzzed and pinged simultaneously. Drinking two…maybe three…glasses of wine did not provide the deep sleep she’d counted on. Instead, she had drifted in and out of sleep, scattered with dreams that caused her heart to race—but couldn’t remember after she startled awake. The only thing accomplished? More tired than ever, an annoying headache plus the continued blanket of guilt wrapped around her shoulders.