Kyle was looking at numbers again. He was not a natural and yearned to find his niche academically. His Dad always told him that an NHL career presented a slim chance. A diploma would offer security and a career beyond the ice. He still had to plow through this calculus thing. The girls were there to help him. They couldn’t help his wandering eye though. Kyle gazed around and guessed their stories. A longer glance was directed at the women. Sometimes they noticed. He liked when they were lost in their own world. He could turn them into anyone he wanted them to be.
Taryn decided to take a break from the solitude and Miles Davis. She would go down to the meat market on the first level and say hi to Maryann and Kim. She deserved a break and knew they would have some candy. She needed a little sugar rush. She was down the elevator in her jeans and Irish knit sweater, something her parents picked up while visiting the British Isles last summer. It was winter now and time to pull out her warm stuff. Her hair was pulled up and secured by a pencil. She always had a lipstick or balm in her pocket and treated her lips with a quick swipe. She looked ready for the runway and could have cared less.
She saw Maryann. On her way to the table she laid eyes on the athletic guy from months ago. Passing him was necessary to get to Maryann so she plowed on. Kyle laid eyes on Taryn. He thought she was approaching him. The soles of his feet and palms of his hands were dewy. He smiled and the gesture was returned. She didn’t stop and he didn’t follow.
****
4:30 and he was up and out the door. By now no alarm was necessary. He saw the twins and they joined him on the now familiar walk to the rink. They found the atmosphere in the locker room intense with a renewed sense of urgency. They would hit the ice right away and warm up before scrimmage began. Kyle had worked hard on his power. Speed was one thing but power was something else. It made all of the difference in hockey. Short bursts of power were asked to accommodate the quickly changing shifts. The wind sprints both on and off the ice had paid off. The hours in the weight room showed as well.
Kyle spent a lot of the time on the bench. It was expected as a freshman on a fairly deep club. He had worthy competition for ice time with Patrick, Stewie and the twins. Coach made sure no one grew cob webs waiting for his time. Fresh legs mattered and he wanted to make sure we all got our chance to play for the scouts. He was good this way but a win was always foremost in his mind. There was no pass or pity offered. They were men and that type of treatment was for pee wee hockey.
Coach was fair and dignified. He demanded his players to be responsible men. Flip the coin and you could see that he would tie himself in knots to help anyone of “his boys”. Any good father followed this agenda.
“Coach. Can I have a minute?” Kyle stopped him in the hallway on the way back to the locker room.
“Caldwell. Feeling better?” He winked.
“Yeah great. I will just come out and say it. My Mom is sick. Cancer. I’m only telling you cuz I’m not sure what this might do to my schedule. I don’t plan on ….”
“Don’t say another word. Its life, welcome to it. I’m sorry about this Kyle. We are your team, your family. We will provide support. It starts with me and I’ve been there. I can offer you what I can. Let’s just take it one step at a time. You will find out that you have made friends both on and off the ice. Some have been in your shoes and some not. Keep me posted. Anything you need from me now?”
“No coach. Thank you. See you this afternoon.”
The next morning a sapling was delivered to the Caldwell home on Admiral Road. It was the Massachusetts state tree – an Elm. The card read “To Mrs. C…….Love, the Team.”
Kyle was off to play student with the classes beginning in just over an hour. He had time to grab some breakfast before the DC closed. He had some egg casserole, meat and a bowl of cereal. He grabbed a couple of bananas for the road, breaking the rules but everyone did it. That is what back-packs were for. Laptops were increasingly taking the place of books which made more room for usurped goodies.
He ended up in Geography where Patrick joined him. Neither had a keen interest in the subject but it added 3 credits to the piggy bank. It wasn’t all bad. They learned about the genesis of the Earth and how it has evolved. It sure took a long time and this in itself was interesting. It made a person feel small, and less relevant in the grand scheme of things. Kyle thought it would make him better at earning the blue slice of pie in Trivial Pursuit. Patrick added that the game of T.P. was created by a Canadian. Hockey, it was inescapable.
Back at the arena for practice. Kyle was assigned number 12. It held no specific meaning to him but he started to think of a few. It would make for better stories. December was the 12th month and he liked Christmas and Bree’s birthday was the 27th. He loved bagels and doughnuts and they often came by the dozen until the bakers dozen ruined it all by adding number 13. Important was former Buffalo Bills Quarterback Jim Kelly was number 12. He liked little bits of information like this. He now had reason to be proud of his jersey number.
They had chosen their team captain, Sean. He was a junior heavily considered to be drafted in the second round. He would be one of the rare guys who made it to the NHL. He hailed from the Toronto area and they called him Deker. The captain was the unofficial team leader and the only one able to approach the referees to debate a call. He was voted in by the players and coaching staff and the role suited him. Dom would have gotten Kyles vote but he was partial and goalies don’t qualify.
There were two Assistant Captains who would step into the official role if the captain was off the ice. Con was one of them. He earned everyone’s trust both on and off the ice. He wore the “A” proudly. The other voted in was Matt. He was a stand-up guy from Michigan.
Four more days until they faced off against Lowell. It was at their house about 80 miles east towards Boston. Close enough so Truman and a good number of Mass Attack fans would be in attendance. They were the Minutemen, but the nickname was given a nick name.
Kyle was focused on the upcoming game but thoughts of his Mom were ever-present. He performed numerous internet searches and visited all the usual medical sites. He knew them to create unnecessary fear and hypochondria. He wasn’t immune to this and self- diagnosed his head aches to be brain tumors. It could not be linked to being hit in the head with a frozen puck. It was a slippery slope and he had to keep his mind on why he was researching this stuff. He looked into alternative medicines and treatments. A lot of them were worth a try and made sense. She might benefit from a little meditation.
It all circled back to more surgery and chemotherapy. It made no sense that something producing heartless side effects may save her life. Questions remained and he did not like the answers. How could this happen to a lady like Mrs. Caldwell? To her credit she never had a “why me” moment and her positive attitude gave proof that she would not.
****
Taryn was preparing to cross another item off her list – find a voice coach. She was taking History of Jazz and had developed a healthy rapport with Professor Willer. It seemed a good place to begin. She was directed towards classical but he may know someone within the department who could help. Taryn was aware that she could get help when needed based on her appearance. Part of her charm was that she was not reliant on it. She checked Professor Willer’s office hours and made her way to his office across campus.
The door was open. She gently rapped and entered.
“Hi. I’m Taryn Wright, a student in your history 204 class. Do you have a moment? I want to pick your brain about finding a voice coach. I hoped you could provide some direction.”
“Sure Taryn take a seat. Call me Chip. Of course I know you. You provide good input in class. Not afraid to speak your mind if I remember correctly. Music is certainly subjective but history offers some facts that can’t be disputed. Am I right?”
“Yes Chip, well I certainly know where you stand. I’m not here about class professor. Do you know where I can find a qualified coach or where I should start looking?
Maybe a grad student in need of a few bucks. I come from a classical background and that is where my interests lie.”
“I think I can put a list together for you by weeks end. Catch me after class on Friday. Do you have a price in mind?”
“Well, of course cost is a consideration but it won’t be the deciding factor. I’m a full-time student so I watch every penny. Male or female – whatever”
“Glad to help out someone who’s here to learn?”
Taryn cruised back home. Tim was there and she stopped in to touch base. His room was small and he was able to project his own style as he had no roommate. Tim had a new girlfriend who was around a lot but she was off doing her own thing. Robin was her name, a girl with an infectious laugh from Andover. He invited Taryn to join him for Sunday mass at the Newman center. He must have been thinking about lying to his mother about attending Catholic services. Catholic guilt could prove quite insidious. Taryn passed, not because she was raised in the Baptist Church, but she was too loaded up with commitments. Religion would have to wait.
“Was NYC fun? It must have been more of an adventure than Concord. We marched to the beat of my Mom’s drum as usual. I got to see friends and had a long talk with my Dad. I think he misses me and I have to give him a lot of credit for hangin’ in there with my Mom.”
“Taryn you crack me up. I don’t know about that mother-daughter relationship thing having grown up with all brothers. It’s delicate. Some day you and June will find common ground. She is a little jealous. She must see you as a sort of rival for your Dads affections. A younger version of herself. A part of her she can’t get back – youth “
“So much for light banter. You gave me some stuff to ponder. Bye Tim……thanks I guess.”
Taryn stopped by a desk in the student union. They were selling tickets for the UMass hockey game in Lowell on Friday. It was an excursion of sorts which included round trip bus fare, access to seats in the rooting section and available snacks between periods. It sounded right up her alley perhaps later in the season. Mass Attack games were on her agenda.
Taryn always enjoyed ice hockey although she herself displayed no skill on a pair of skates. It was probably the reason she picked up field hockey. It was as close as she would ever get. Her Dad had access to decent Bruins tickets and they often caught games together. They would take the commuter rail into the city and get off at North Station. It was a sports mecca where the Celtics played also. Her Dad always spoke of the old garden with fond memories but the TD Garden was all she knew. His company had a luxury box. Dad would be obligated to schmooze a little but Taryn watched intently to all three periods. Wouldn’t it be fun to watch the action close up so you could almost feel it? She often wondered.
****
Kyle hopped on the team bus. Excitement was in the air as they began their journey which took about 90 minutes. It would be a perfect time for a little nap but the anticipation was too intense as they journeyed to Lowell. The River Hawks were a scrappy team and stood out among their Hockey East rivals. They played at the Tsongas center which opened in the mid 90’s. It was named for the former presidential candidate who died. Kyle stuck this bit of trivia in his back pocket to use later with political minded Mark back home. He would be impressed.
I was close enough so no overnight was necessitated. They would pull right up to the sports center. They would dress, warm up and play. All business.
Evidenced by the way the guys showed up at the arena it certainly was business. A golf shirt and khakis would not do. Coach required a shirt and tie to be worn when they presented themselves as a team. They were representing the Minutemen. They were to be a symbol of the University of Massachusetts at Amherst and of every student in attendance. Class was a large part of who coach was. He wanted us to be viewed as intelligent athletes, not a marauding clan of ruffians.
Diane and Rosemary had taken Kyle and Stewie to bargain outlets in Boston and dressed them both. They chose some conservative stuff but showed a bit of flair with their ties. Stewie enjoyed their excellent taste and they liked touring Boston with the hunky Floridian. Great fun was had by all.
It was a wild game with a lot of shift changes. The coaches were trying a lot of things out and they changed lines at rapid pace. Kyle’s adrenaline was pumping and he was not alone. The periods flew by with a 3-2 win. It was a fast and precise outing for the Minutemen. Fast play was what Coach wanted. They delivered.
****
Brushing off the dusty early season snow from her head, and giving herself a good shake like a dog after a swim she walked up the stairs of Devon’s apartment house on Main Street. She had gotten his name from Professor Willer at school as a possible vocal coach. He was active at the Fine Arts Center on Campus and had an impressive background. He was highly published with 20 years’ experience. He studied at the Blaine school in Philadelphia and was the choral director of a women’s choir down there. He sounded solid on paper.
“You must be Taryn? Come on in Ms. Wright. Tea?”
“Tea yes, thank you. Please call me Taryn. I look around and I don’t see my mother.”
“I have a huge assortment of herbals. You can take a peek. Lemon, sugar and honey are on the counter. So, this is where I do my thing. Let me give you a quick tour. Here I do the vocal stuff. It’s the warmest room up here with lots of sun – hopeful.”
Devon walked her through and she followed. She had already given him a thumbs up in her mind but she was not showing it yet. She enjoyed the sales pitch.
“I use this room for piano, obviously and whatever stringed instrument comes my way. He led her into the library. A soft plush sofa sat in the corner with an antique bureau by its side. It was covered with papers with a whole lot of scribbled notes. “This is my study/library. I built the shelves myself – it’s sort of a hobby. Feels good to work manually now and then. There are a lot of books. I’ve moved around a lot and I collect ‘em from all over. They are a palpable memory of where I’ve been.”
Devon was about six feet tall and sinewy. A runner perhaps. His hair was down to his shoulders and sandy colored. He had on a pair of worn jeans and a taupe wool sweater. He looked comfortable in his shabby little studio.
“I am open most weeknights. Pay as you go, just don’t leave me hanging. Call if you can’t make it. I trust you will. If we’re not a good fit we will sense it and move on with no problems. I don’t waste your time and money with this type of agreement. All of the details were on the flyer and she trusted Chip. Let’s hear what you’ve got and we’ll go from there.”
Taryn needed some time to think after her meeting with Devon Malloy so she took long walk home skipping the bus. It had been an interesting meeting and she trusted him. She planned on beginning with two nights per week at a cost of 20 bucks an hour. She would present the figure to her Dad and it would surely be deposited in their joint account the next day.
****
Christmas was in a couple of days. Kyle and Truman both needed the break. Finals were crazy and hockey season had gotten pretty intense. Tru would head home to Needham for the entire six weeks. He planned on working as many hours as he could get. He had set a couple of odd jobs last time he was there. He knew a lot of people back home and they hired him to do just about any strenuous job they could throw him. He had a couple of rooms to paint and garages to clean. He shoveled snow if needed. They were mostly retired folks who saved up the chores for him. He made 15 bucks an hour.
Kyle would take a short break back in Buffalo and spend most of it in Amherst staying with buddies from the team. He needed to spend time with his Mom back home. She was pretty frail from the chemo and he had only been home for an overnight since Thanksgiving. He, Juliet and her boyfriend were assigned kitchen duty. It would be an adventure.
“Hey Tru. This will be a long time apart. I’ve never been around one person, except for family, for such a long time. I hope you can make it over at least once this winter session. Off campus in that gross house. It makes this place palat
ial. We made it through a semester. “
It was dark and having them sleeping in the same room before midnight was rare. Coach and hockey were light for a few days and a refresher at home was necessary.
“Yeah Kyle, I’ll come visit. Don’t have too much fun without me. I’m glad we’re together again next semester. Good times.”
“Night Tru.”
“Night”
Christmas in Buffalo was a genuine time for the Caldwell’s. There were gifts, food, music, and visitors but there was a common sense of quiet unity among them. They could care less that both the Sabres and the Bills were having miserable seasons. They were all there so it was all good.
Brian was a part of the family now. He was an enormous help to the whole clan. Mr. Caldwell went back to work with a flexible schedule and Brian stepped in to help out with the driving of Mrs. Caldwell to the hospital and Bree to Volleyball games. He showed amazing fortitude, as did the entire Gorski family. They had become a cohesive part of the extended family.
Uncle Ray had come out of his self- imposed exile in the country to be there for his brother. He was an interesting cat. He was wrecked by the Korean War. He never really spoke of it but we all knew that something went down over there that he would always carry around. It was amusing to see him try and fit in with family. He was accustomed to being alone for so long.
He loved the Buffalo Sabres and hockey was a dominant topic of conversation with Uncle Ray. He was a fan of the French connection in the 70’s. They were all forwards, Gil Perrault, Rene Robert and Rick Martin. They played with no hat, according to Uncle Ray. He believed helmets were for girls. Then there were the Schoenfeld years. His daughters liked that one, even listened to some albums he released. He and Dad had caught a couple of recent games for old time sake.
Icing Page 6