“I thought it was good. But he wasn’t enthused about it, and now, well…” I’m trying not to be too down about how things turned out. I find if I keep my expectations low, I’m not disappointed, but somehow even though I didn’t have expectations for Josh and me…I’m still disappointed.
“You never know,” Kaylee says. “He sounds like a good guy.”
“He is. He’s a little…uptight and serious, but he actually has a sense of humor, and he’s very polite and considerate. Which is so weird when I watch him play hockey, because he’s like a totally different person, spitting and ramming people into the boards and yelling at the refs.”
Kaylee grins. “I have to watch a game. I need to see this guy.”
“There’s a game tonight, if you can find it on TV.”
“I’ll look!”
“When are you coming to the city again?”
“Hmm. We should plan something. I’d love to come for a weekend and see a show and you can take me out to one of your swanky clubs.”
“We could go to a hockey game!”
She laughs. “Yeah, that would be cool.”
I pull up the Bears’ schedule on my computer and we find a Saturday home game two weeks away. “I’ll get tickets!” I tell her.
“And I’ll get show tickets for Friday night. I can’t wait to see you!”
“Same!”
With that planned, we end our chat and I sit back into the couch cushions. I feel better after talking to my friend and having something to look forward to.
It’s Sunday afternoon and I don’t have anything specific planned other than working on a video and taking care of business stuff. I forgo a spin class at Ignite, as I still feel really exhausted from last night. It’s snowing lightly and the streets are wet and slushy, so I don’t even want to go for a walk. Normally I’d be eager to head out and be among people, even if just at a coffee shop or museum, but today, with the fireplace on, my apartment feels cozy and comforting. And I want comfort today.
I make myself another coffee and settle in for a session of video editing, but my mind keeps wandering.
To Josh.
Dammit.
He’s puzzling. Interesting. Like I said to Kaylee, he’s so different on and off the ice. He’s so somber but yet I can make him laugh, and I love that. He’s quiet, but when he talks, he has real things to say. He’s been through a terrible tragedy. He didn’t say much about it; clearly it was difficult for him to talk about. I’m sure he just wants to forget it ever happened, but I’m also sure you can never forget something like that.
He puts my puny struggles into perspective.
This makes me sit back and think. Did I seem like a whiny little bitch to him? Ugh. Why did that have to happen? How could I have been so stupid as to not pay attention to the ingredients?
It didn’t take long for him to figure out I’m a weirdo. A little longer than most guys, mind you. He actually accepted my invitation to have lunch after I asked him about spitting mucus.
As usual, I’m beating myself up about dumb things. I need to move on. I need to focus on what I’ve got planned for next week—I’m going to put together a wardrobe of athleisure clothing all from Walmart and I’m going to try to learn a TicTok dance. I’m interviewing Hazel Morales. I have work to do for the online psychology class I’m taking. And I have a meeting with the folks from Sephora that I need to prepare for. Work will save me.
And I do manage to focus. Until the hockey game starts. Of course I have to watch it.
Kaylee texts me halfway through the first period. Okay, what number is your man?
He’s not my man. # 25. Are you watching?
Yes!
I smile. Kaylee has never shown any interest in hockey before this. I love her.
I have a bowl of one of my favorite foods, popcorn, on my lap as I sit cross-legged on the couch and stare at the TV. I frown when Los Angeles scores a goal. I groan when one of the Bears shoots at the L.A. net and the goalie stops the puck. I get excited when L.A. gets a penalty, sitting forward to watch the Bears as they keep the puck in their own end almost the whole two minutes…but don’t score. Damn.
I feel like Josh hasn’t been playing that much. Or maybe he’s just not flashy. What do I know? Then he throws himself down onto the ice to stop a shot by an L.A. player, and my heart leaps into my throat. “What the hell are you doing?” I screech at the TV.
“Big block by Josh Heller!” the announcer cries.
He’s still lying on the ice as the play goes on. Jesus. Finally, he pushes to his knees, then stands and glides off the ice, clearly favoring one leg.
I breathe again, shaking my head. That’s insane!
“And Josh Heller has gone back to the dressing room,” the dude standing between the benches says. “Let’s hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Damn right!”
My phone chimes. Another text from Kaylee. Holy shit is he okay????
I don’t know. I send a series of emojis indicating shock, fear, and hands over the eyes.
They go to commercial, then the game resumes. The period is nearly over. I can’t tell if Josh is back, but then one announcer says, “And Josh Heller is back on the bench, good news for the Bears.”
“Must have been a stinger he managed to walk off,” the other chimes in.
Whew.
They show a close-up of Josh, sitting on the bench talking to the player next to him, nodding, then laughing.
Laughing. After he just took a puck…well, I don’t even know where it hit him.
Another message from Kaylee arrives. He looks sweaty.
I laugh. He definitely does. And the helmet and visor hide his nice eyes.
Kaylee and I keep texting back and forth through the rest of the game, which the Bears even up in the second period, and then with a goal in the third period they squeak out a win. “Go, Bears!” I holler in my apartment.
I guess I’m a hockey fan now.
* * *
—
I’m shocked the next day when I have a text from Josh.
Standing in my kitchen, I stare at my phone and read it again.
Hey how are you doing? Recovered?
I’m confused for a few seconds. Then I tap in a response. How am I doing? How are YOU doing?? You kept throwing yourself in front of the puck last night!
I’m fine. Few bruises, that’s all.
Yeesh. Tough guy.
You know it.
Well, I’m fine. Back to normal. Sorry again about what happened.
My heart beats a bit faster. Is he just being polite by checking in?
No worries. So you watched the game.
Yes. Go Bears.
I get a smile emoji in return. After a moment, he messages, Glad you’re okay.
Glad you’re okay too.
I wait. And wait. Then set my phone down on the kitchen counter. Shit.
Ah well.
I could remind him about doing the hockey video. But I’m not going to. Maybe someday I’ll call him up and ask him about it, when it’s been long enough that he knows I’m not desperately trying to see him again.
I’m not playing games. Really, I’m not. I’m just protecting myself.
I take my tofu quinoa bowl into the living room to eat at my desk while I look at Instagram. The picture of me in the hospital that I shared has gotten tons of likes and comments. I resist looking at them because I know there will be ones in there saying I should have died, or stupid shit like that, although a glance tells me most of my followers are concerned about me. But I can’t get all smug about that either—if I don’t take the bad comments seriously, how can I take the good ones seriously?
Social media sucks.
Then a new notification arrives from Josh.
I quickly swi
pe to his message. Want to try that dinner date again?
I laugh out loud, suddenly feeling like my veins are full of fizzy champagne. And I send my reply: Yes.
This is the week we’re away. I won’t be back until Saturday. Is Saturday night okay for you?
Of course it is. I don’t have that much going on in my social life. That’s fine for me.
Great. Talk before then.
Have a good trip.
Thanks.
I stand up and do a little dance around my living room. Then I grab my phone and immediately text Kaylee to tell her what just happened.
It’s a good thing my week is busy with my epic trip to Walmart, dancing, and meetings. My Sephora meeting is great, and we plan a shopping trip to a Sephora store and then I try a bunch of products at home. I watch the Tuesday Bears game in Winnipeg, in which the commentators do talk about Josh being in his hometown and the fact that so many friends and family are there watching the game, even showing his parents on camera—Tag Heller is the general manager of the Winnipeg team so he’s watching up in a box, but Josh’s mom, Kyla, is watching in the stands. She’s super pretty, with long dark hair and a bright smile, and she obviously knows a lot about hockey from the clips they show of her watching the game. She’s sitting with a young woman the TV announcer identifies as Josh’s sister, and two older couples, who are both sets of Josh’s grandparents.
I have to miss the game on Thursday night in Minneapolis as I go to a book launch event at a big bookstore with my New York friends Eli and Connor. They’re a couple. Connor works for the publisher of the book, so he drags us along to the party, which I have to admit has excellent appetizers and champagne. I love champagne. The author is Oba Okafor and he’s written a book called The Quiet Power, about compassion, which I find quite interesting. He does a reading from the book, and I pick up a copy and get him to sign it. As I do so, a photographer takes pictures of us, so I look up and smile.
I mingle with the other guests, an eclectic assortment of people, which is always interesting. Most people don’t know who I am, and that’s absolutely fine with me. But when Connor introduces me to his boss, Gabriella, she does know me and is full of questions about my vlog and podcasts. Then she asks, “Have you ever thought of writing a book?”
I’m taken aback. “Um, about what?”
She laughs. “All the things you talk about in your videos. Your life. Unfiltered. Hey, that would be a great title!”
“I’m…wow. No, I haven’t thought of that.”
“Well, you should. Here’s my card. Are you agented?”
“Yes…”
“Who’s your agent?”
I tell her and she nods as if she knows Janet. “We’ll talk again,” she says confidently, moving off to chat with someone else.
A book. I can’t write a book. It’s one thing to get in front of the camera and spew whatever my screwy mind comes up with, but write it down?
Well, something to think about.
After the launch party, Eli and Connor and a couple of Connor’s co-workers and I go to a club near Times Square, a wild, high-energy place. The theme tonight is pillow talk, so there are dancers scantily clad in lingerie on a stage hitting each other with pillows, feathers flying everywhere. We make our way to a silver bar lit with purple and order cocktails. There’s nowhere to sit, so we find a place to stand and watch the stage, the dance floor, the crowds.
The song “Roses” throbs around me and inside me, along with the pulsing colored lights, and I can’t help but move to the beat, sipping my Manhattan. Connor pulls out his phone and takes a few selfies of the three of us. Then we hit the dance floor and groove to “Turn Me On” and more, until my feet are killing me in my heels and sweat is running down my back under my little black dress.
The next night, Friday, I’m ready to stay home and watch a hockey game in my pajamas. What is happening to me?
The Bears are playing in Columbus and the game doesn’t go well. Columbus keeps taking penalties, which you’d think would give the Bears lots of chances to score, but they don’t. They’re trying, but the Columbus goalie is crazy. And when the puck slips past Gunnerson, our goalie, Columbus takes the lead. It’s a frustrating game to watch, which makes me realize it must be even more frustrating for Josh, out there playing. Then he takes a penalty for hooking, trying to stop one of the Columbus players, so yeah…frustrated.
I’ll get to see him tomorrow and I can’t wait to talk to him about the game and hear what he has to say, somebody who actually knows what’s going on, ha.
They lose one–nothing. Damn.
I text him afterward, although I don’t know when he’ll see it. Sorry about the loss. See you tomorrow.
* * *
—
Josh calls me around noon to make the arrangements. “I thought we’d go back to Allettante,” he says casually. “Since I didn’t get to finish my pork chops.”
Jesus. The last place I want to go back to is that restaurant. I’m searching for a response, then he laughs.
“Kidding! We’re never going back there again.”
I grin, relieved. “Wow, you had me there. You made a joke.”
“I do that occasionally.”
I like it. “How about an early dinner and we can do something after?”
“Like what?”
I frown. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.” Ohhhh. Right. He wants to plan everything.
“Okay,” he says, sounding like someone is plucking his chest hair. “I was thinking of Fire Tastes and Taps.”
“Okay, that’s great.” It’s close to me, and a casual eatery.
I have more editing to do, and I really want to get that done and the video uploaded, so I bury myself in it until about four, then pour myself a glass of my favorite rosé wine and leisurely get ready to go out.
On a date.
With Josh Heller.
I’m not going to mess this one up.
Chapter 10
Josh
I wasn’t going to do it.
I texted Sara to see how she’s doing because it seemed the polite thing to do after a trip to the ER. I was just going to leave it at that. And I had the feeling she was too. So I’m still not sure why I asked for a do-over on our date.
Maybe because I can’t stop thinking about her.
I like her.
What I don’t like is unpredictability. And it seems Sara brings that with her everywhere—spontaneous lunches, bumper cars, and allergic reactions. I keep telling myself I’m better off by myself right now. I’m still adjusting to the new team, the new city, and living in a fucking hotel.
My stuff is arriving next week, thank fuck.
Not only that, Cora won’t leave me alone. We had fun together, but I had no idea she was going to be so needy and desperate when I ended things.
I just want a nice, settled, and, okay, boring life. A boring life is better than being dead, right? I miss how things were in Dallas. How I knew what every day would bring. How I could retreat to my own place and lock myself in there whenever I felt like it.
Now I have another date to plan. Aw, fuck it, why plan anything? Shit’s going to happen no matter what I do.
Nope. Can’t do it. I can’t just wing it. I need to know what’s happening.
On top of this, our team just got shaken up again with the announcement of a new head coach. This morning we were informed that the team has hired Gary Shipton. Coach Meknikov will go back to being assistant coach. Coach Shipton is going to fly to Minneapolis to join us there.
I guess it was too much to hope that Coach Meknikov would stay head coach. I’m just getting used to him and learning his systems and now we’re going to have another change. At the risk of sounding like a whiny baby, I’ve had enough change.
I try to be positive. I’ve hea
rd good things about Gary Shipton. He’s supposed to be a strong defensive tactician and he’s also known as a coach who demands a lot from his players. As a defenseman, and as a member of a young team, this could be a good fit. I have to admit, we need help on defense, more than I could bring.
They’re going to have a press conference this afternoon to make the official announcement just before we leave.
This is my first big road trip with the team. Being with the guys 24-7 (nearly) is usually a good way to get to know one another better and form some bonds. But I’m hyperaware of Easton. He already fits in here. But he’s not making any effort to help me feel like I fit in. When we go for dinner one night, I’m already seated at the big table. He looks at the empty seat next to me, then takes one at the far end of the table.
My gut heats. Whatever. Fine with me.
It’s not his job to make me feel welcome, I guess. The other guys are good. I just feel weird that we’re both trying to avoid each other without being obvious about it.
Flying to Winnipeg is fun. I get to see my family and they’re all there to watch the game, so I want to play well. And I think I do, but we still lose. Our power play sucks. Coach Meknikov isn’t happy about it, but we’re lucky he’s not throwing skates at our heads, as their old coach apparently used to do. Holy shit.
Then Coach Shipton joins us on the road. It’s not the best timing for meeting the new coach. We have a short flight from Winnipeg to Minneapolis on Thursday, and we have a team meeting that afternoon in the hotel.
“Obviously I’m not going to take this team to a whole new level right away,” he tells us. “I’m not going to start making a lot of changes. I have things to learn about this team and about you guys, and that’s what my first priority is right now.”
We’re thrown right into it that night, with him managing the bench, and it’s different, but somehow we pull out a win. Maybe we’re all motivated to try a little harder to impress the new coach. We won battles in the corners, played solidly in our own end, and gave Gunner some badly needed support in net.
We lost in Columbus, but we played well. Their goalie was insane.
You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey) Page 8