Best Played (Salt Lake Pumas)

by Camellia Tate

  Following what Olle was saying felt like being out in pouring rain. His words came so fast and the fact that he kept bouncing wasn’t particularly helpful either. Nor did Olle truly give me a chance to respond to the proposition that we go clubbing, of all things, before he was already talking again.

  This had to be the most I’d ever heard him talk at once.

  “Do I know how long you have lived in this apartment? It’s nice! Homey. I think my house could use a bit more homey feel, but I never know where to begin, you know. Paintings would be good, I guess, but how does one even pick art? Have you got art?” he asked looking around my walls.

  Instead of replying, I waved a hand toward the framed prints. It felt as though Olle were using up so many words that there weren’t any left for me! As Olle raced off to examine them more closely, I sank into a seat on the couch.

  Despite his energy, it was hard to believe that Olle was really ‘good’ - but maybe he’d bounced back quicker after the loss than I’d expected. After all, I’d never been around him after he’d lost a game before. Maybe this was normal.

  “They’re not originals,” I muttered, though that was probably obvious. I didn’t make enough money to buy original art. “But I like having something to look at. I went for bright, bold colors in here and more soothing art in the bedroom.”

  “It looks good! They don’t have to be originals to look good,” he informed me and I smiled a little. But that, too, was then swept over in another sea of words. “You’re obviously very good at decorating. Do I get to see your bedroom? Last time I wasn’t allowed. I guess it’s okay if I’m not allowed now, too. I’m not demanding to see your bedroom.”

  He laughed. Something about that laugh struck me as almost manic. I couldn’t smell any alcohol on him, but it was hard not to wonder if he was maybe drunk. The behavior was... off. This wasn’t the calm and collected Olle I’d known and shared a room with for a week.

  My hands trembled as I folded them in my lap, trying to work out what I should do. I’d never had a boyfriend act weird around me - but then, I’d never really had a boyfriend at all. I tried to think what I would want someone to do for me. I decided that ‘pretend nothing is wrong’ wasn’t it.

  “Olle.” I stood, making my way over to him. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I lifted my hand to his head, brushing it with the backs of my fingers. “You don’t feel too hot or anything?” Fever could make people behave weirdly. And that seemed more likely, since I knew Olle didn’t drink.

  “Yeah, I feel great,” he assured me with a wide smile. “I guess I’m hot, but more in the sexy sense,” he added and then actually winked at me. In the time I’d known Olle, really known him, he certainly hadn’t been shy but this felt like just too much. Over the top.

  But more than that, he seemed completely oblivious to the whole thing.

  “Come on! Let’s go out! We don’t have to go dancing if you don’t want to - though we can if you do - but we can go do something, yeah? I could probably run. Do you run? No, I guess not. Can we get a horse to ride this late in the night? You like horses.”

  “No. I mean, yes, I like horses, but I don’t want to go riding right now.” Even the suggestion only confirmed for me that something was definitely wrong. Olle had always struck me as so sensible!

  But what was I supposed to do about it? Olle was much bigger than me, it wasn’t like I could physically force him to sit and chill out. “I think I should take you… home, I guess.” I didn’t like the idea of leaving Olle alone, but nor did he seem serious enough to take to the emergency room.

  “I think you might be coming down with something,” I continued. “Like, a fever. Does the team have a doctor that you call for non-emergencies?”

  Unlike all my other questions, this one didn’t earn an immediate barrage of words.

  Instead, Olle frowned.

  It felt like I’d hit the nail on the head, but without having any idea what that nail was. “I don’t need a doctor, I’m fine,” he told me seriously. Except, it felt a bit like a thing someone who wasn’t fine and did need a doctor might say. He also didn’t actually answer my question, but luckily I knew someone else I could ask.

  As quickly as that concern had flashed across Olle’s face, though, it was gone. “You can take me home if you want,” he decided. “Then I can give you a tour of my house! I have some art, but it’s not very interesting. Still, I think I’m doing okay, I might buy some more. Oh, do you want to help me? We can do some shopping!”

  I hesitated, but agreeing seemed like the best way to get Olle home. I could text Will on the way and ask him whether the Pumas had a doctor, or if there was something else that should be done if Olle wasn’t well.

  “Well, let’s not go shopping right now,” I suggested. “Let’s get an Uber and go back to yours.” Letting Olle drive when his attention was this scattered didn’t seem sensible - and I was a bit worried that if I tried to drive him, he might distract me with a sudden movement.

  “Internet shopping, silly!” he exclaimed but then, in the same breath, Olle was off talking about something else. About paintings he’d seen as a kid, things he’d liked. It was interesting, a picture of what Olle had been like as a kid, but at the same time, worry ate at me.

  Luckily, I got him home easily enough and while I did make Olle promise we wouldn’t buy anything, I figured there was no harm in looking at art online. It seemed to distract him enough that I could message Will.

  Within minutes, my phone was ringing, Will’s name flashing up on the screen.

  Thankfully, Olle was distracted enough that when I told him I had to answer the phone he just gave a dismissive wave.

  Walking into the kitchen, I was quick to answer the call. Whatever I had expected, it wasn’t the worried tone I heard in Will’s voice when he spoke.

  “You’re at his place?” he asked. “I’m going to get the team doctor over in a minute, are you okay to stay for a bit? Is he... how manic is he?”

  It was almost a relief. Will wasn’t questioning me. There seemed to be no suggestion that I might be overreacting. My breath came a little easier, despite the gnawing in my stomach. Just because Will might know what to do, didn’t stop me from worrying about Olle.

  “He suggested we go clubbing. Or else that we could find a horse to ride at this time of night. His thoughts seem - kind of all over the place. Jumping from one thing to another too quickly for me to keep up.”

  Facing the couch where I’d left Olle, I let myself lean against the wall for a moment. “I want to stay, for as long as he wants me to be here.” And right now, he did.

  There was a small hum from Will, one that I knew implied sympathy. “I doubt he knows what he wants right now,” Will told me gently. “But he likes you a lot, Roxi. It’s... this hasn’t happened in a long time. A really long time.” I wanted to ask what this even was, but Will didn’t give me the opportunity.

  “The loss on Saturday... it’s obviously triggered him. I mean, it was shit, but Olle takes a lot of it on himself, I guess maybe it’s hard not to when you’re the goalie.” I gave a small nod at Will’s words even if he couldn’t see me. Being the last stop before the other team scored must’ve been hard.

  “But it has happened before?” I asked, almost instantly feeling a rush of guilt. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me any details.” Asking too much would be invading Olle’s privacy. It was just a relief to hear that Olle had made it through before, whatever it was.

  “Is there anything that I should be doing, until the doctor gets here?” I asked. “I tried to suggest he rest, but if anything he seems to have too much energy, not too little.” I hadn’t been surprised when Olle had insisted that lying down was the last thing he felt like.

  Will sighed, but then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it has happened before. Not for years, though. When Olle first transferred to Pumas this happened... a lot. It’s not really my place to explain it to you, but he will be okay, I promise.”

 
That was really all I could ask for. All I wanted.

  “The doctor will be there soon and I’m on my way, too, so just stay with him for a bit longer?” Will hardly needed to ask! Of course, I’d stay. I wanted to make sure Olle was okay even if I didn’t really get what was happening.

  By the time I got back to him, Olle had opened up several new browser tabs of things that had caught his attention. I listened as he showed them to me, smiling at the Google image search of ‘horse art’ that he’d done just to show me some paintings I might like.

  Part of me wanted to ask for an explanation - to find out exactly what it was that was wrong. But pushing Olle now wouldn’t be fair. Whatever state he was in, it was clear his judgment was being affected. He might tell me more than he’d otherwise want to.

  So I would just have to be patient a bit longer. I trusted Will that Olle was going to be alright. And I trusted Olle that, when he was better, he would explain it all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Olle

  When I woke up, my mom was there.

  That meant something wasn’t right. It had been a long time since she’d had to fly out uninvited. My head hurt a bit, but the dazed feeling I felt was one I recognized. It had been a long time since I’d experienced it last, but it felt familiar. Almost like a memory of a dream.

  “Hey, Mom,” I murmured, drawing her attention to me. The positive, I supposed, was that I wasn’t in a hospital. My head didn’t feel right, though; a sort of cloudiness that came with medication. And if that wasn’t enough of a sign, the bitter taste at the back of my throat would have been.

  “Surprise!” Mom answered ironically, raising one eyebrow at me in a way that almost made me want to laugh.

  She reached out, squeezing my hand in hers. “How are you feeling? The doctor said you were asleep most of the day yesterday.”

  I dimly recalled Roxi being here, bringing me home.

  Shame twisted inside me. This was hardly how I wanted Roxi to see me, or for my mom to see me. I knew she worried. I hadn’t had an episode in years, so the guilt of having her fly out essentially overnight was even harsher.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly, turning my head away. It was hard to face her like this, to know how much she must have worried. I didn’t even want to think about what Roxi must be feeling. My recollection of what I’d said was patchy but I knew I’d been manic.

  Mom tutted, her fingers tightening on mine for a moment before she let go. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Before I could argue the truth of that, she’d carried on. “You didn’t choose this; you never have to be sorry.”

  Even if I didn’t totally believe her, the tight knot in my stomach eased a little.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I probably didn’t, actually.

  But we both knew that mom’s question wasn’t exactly a choice. I would have to talk about it. The hardest part of the highs, other than all the things I used to fuck up during them, were the lows that came after. And talking about it was how you stopped it from happening.

  Turning back to her, I gave another sigh. “Losing the playoffs, it just... I spiraled. Everything was suddenly so much and...”

  The first time I’d been diagnosed as bipolar, I was sure my mom was relieved. It finally gave a reason, an explanation, to the mood swings, the highs, the lows, the partying. For years since, I’d held such a tight grip on my emotions.

  Losing, though, was always tough.

  It just wasn’t normally this tough.

  “And then all I wanted was to see Roxi.” And fuck! I really didn’t even want to think what she must think. “I’m so fucking stupid,” I groaned. Stupid and unstable. She deserved better.

  “It’s not stupid to have an illness,” Mom pointed out. She’d said as much before, many times. Logically, I knew she was right. It just didn’t feel true. Especially not today.

  But Mom knew where my mind was going and she shook her head. “What would you say if a friend made a bad decision during an episode, that he was stupid?” No, of course, I wouldn’t. It was a good reminder to be nicer to myself.

  “Did you explain to Roxi?” Mom asked.

  “No.” I shook my head. That made me feel stupid, too. But you also didn’t really bring up mental health issues on the first date. Maybe if I had predicted that this could happen... But if I had, it probably wouldn’t have happened.

  Either way, I’d let her down. Roxi deserved better than someone who didn’t even have a very good grasp of their emotions. But I didn’t say that out loud, I knew mom would disagree there, too. I was her kid, though, she had some bias.

  “It’s just been so long since this happened. But I felt so bad about losing that game. It was all I could think about, how I let everyone down.” Sure, I understood that it wasn’t completely true, but it was me who’d let two goals in, costing us the playoffs.

  Mom’s expression was so sad, I could hardly bring myself to look at her. “You know that’s not true, Olle,” she said softly. “You didn’t let anybody down. You’re a good goalie, and a good person.” Neither of those statements felt particularly convincing.

  “You don’t believe me,” Mom observed, shaking her head. “But you don’t blame the rest of the team for not scoring more goals. You don’t think that they let you down.”

  I didn’t. And I also knew what mom was talking about. Yet the connection between what I knew and what I felt was so fragile. And, now, also a little muted because of the medication. I hated it, though, the sense of failure that sat low in my stomach. Not just at failing the team, failing the fans, but also failing Roxi by being... a mess.

  “I understand these things logically,” I allowed. “But it might take me a while to remember how it feels. I know you worry, I mean, I worry, too, but... I don’t know.” Again, I turned away, the deep hurt making tears burn behind my eyes.

  “I only worry because I want you to be happy,” Mom promised. “You have never let me down. Not once.” Her voice was so fierce that I had no choice but to believe her. It wasn’t enough to completely ease my feelings, but at least it helped a little.

  Getting up, Mom fussed around with my pillows for a moment, trying to make me more comfortable. “Do you want to come home with me?” she suggested. “You’re done with hockey until next season. I have lots of jobs around the house that only my grown-up son can do for me.” A playful smile curved her lips, inviting me to join in on the joke.

  It was hard not to smile back, even if I knew it wasn’t quite reaching my eyes. The offer, too, was very tempting. I was planning to go home anyway for the summer. This wasn’t the way I had anticipated all of it going down but the idea of escaping to Sweden, of laying low until my head felt better? It was certainly appealing.

  “Yeah, I think I would very much like to do that,” I decided. Mom had been the one to suggest it and I knew it was because she wanted to keep an eye on me, but she must not have thought about how, a little bit, this was running away. But I had no issue with that.

  “Can we go tomorrow?” I asked. “You can book the tickets on my card, get us some nice ‘my son is in the NHL’ first-class tickets?”

  She laughed, the sound settling something inside of me. As much as I appreciated mom’s sympathy, it was making her laugh that reassured me things were normal. Or at least, that they would get back to normal eventually.

  “I will do that,” Mom agreed. “But first, I think you should eat. You haven’t had anything since before I got here, and nobody feels good on an empty stomach!”

  I had absolutely no desire to eat, but I knew that my mom was hardly going to take that as a good enough reason. I would try for her, especially when she promised to make me something. I could never turn down mom’s cooking, even if there was no immediate hunger within me.

  It was nice to just be taken care of, to let her get on with things and make sure I was okay. Right now, it didn’t feel like I was able to do that for myself, but maybe, i
n a few days, things would feel better.

  In any case, going home and leaving this behind me, at least for a few months, would be helpful.

  What I tried very hard not to do was think about how everything I was leaving behind included Roxi.

  She wouldn’t want to see me anyway. Not after the mess I’d been. Not after she’d figured out how unstable I could be. She needed someone stable, her dad had told me as much. And while I desperately wished I could be that for her, I really couldn’t.

  All I could do was hope that she’d find someone who did deserve her.

  Instead of getting the tickets for the next day, mom ordered them for the day after, which left me with a day to spare. I should have gone to see Roxi, to apologize to her, but I didn’t. Even the thought of seeing the disappointment in her eyes ached inside me.

  The team was a different matter. They were like the siblings I’d never had, so while I still wished my mood had stayed stable, it wasn’t as worrying to meet them. Or well, to meet Will, which had been my original plan.

  Except when I showed up at Will’s, a couple of the other guys were there, too, playing video games and eating pizza.

  “Didn’t you invite me to this party?” I teased lightly once Lacey had let me through to the living room where all the activity was.

  Will just shrugged one shoulder. “I kind of figured they’d be gone by now,” he admitted, earning him an insult from one of the younger players. It made me laugh, how normal it felt.

  Granted, the mood was a bit listless. Losing our place in the playoffs had upset everyone. And since we had no official training, it made sense that the guys would want to hang out together, with the only other people in the world who truly understood.

  “We’ve been licking our wounds,” Will admitted. “I figure Luke gives it a week or two before he tells us to stop feeling sorry for ourselves. That’s about as long as he can hold out on giving us a pep talk about how next year will be better.”