Netminder

by Jeff Adams

  The information offered no comfort.

  Tears were on the verge of spilling over but didn’t quite come, and the longer they didn’t, the closer I got to flying apart at the seams.

  Keys’s death, more than six months ago now, had rocked my world. She’d been a colleague, mentor, and friend. While John was all those things, he was family above all else. We may have called him uncle, but he was everything from stand-in parent to older brother.

  I tucked in the shirt, zipped, buttoned, and belted the pants.

  Suits weren’t my favorite thing, but I was used to it. The team wore them every week to school on game day.

  The tie….

  Dad wasn’t home the first time I had to wear a suit for school—freshman year, first game. He was due at the game, but his flight had been delayed so he wasn’t around that morning. We’d bought the suit before he’d left, and he taught me how to tie the tie.

  At least we thought he had.

  I couldn’t do it that morning—the ends wouldn’t balance out.

  I tore into the kitchen for help because I didn’t want to be late for carpool. John calmed me down, took me to the mirror in the hall, and showed me. We did it a few times to make sure I could do it myself.

  Crisis averted.

  I needed his steady hands because my shaking made it difficult.

  A soft knock at the door startled me.

  Opening it I found Dad.

  “Are you—”

  I stood with the tie in my right hand, looking at him, tears rolling down my cheeks. I fought the urge to wipe them with the tie.

  “We got this,” he said, coming in and closing the door.

  He hugged me, and I nodded against his shoulder, trying to rein in the emotions.

  I stepped back and wordlessly handed him the tie. He flipped up the shirt collar, and within a minute he had the stupid tie in place.

  I grabbed the jacket, but Dad put his hand out and stopped me from putting it on.

  “You have to know,” he said, voice sounding strained, “that there’s no doubt John was so proud of you.”

  I nodded. I’d done what I needed to. He’d been part of my training, so he was one of the reasons I got through.

  “He’ll be a part of everything you do, guiding the choices you make, watching over you.”

  I hoped so.

  “Thanks, Dad.” I smiled weakly.

  We hugged again, and I managed to keep it together.

  He took the jacket from me and held it out for me to slip into.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  THE ROOM was jammed to an almost uncomfortable extent. John had been with TOS for nearly fifteen years and while most of that time had been working with my parents, he’d formed a lot of close connections.

  Mom clutched a Kleenex in her hand and used it often. I’d never seen her like this. My parents never hesitated to show emotion, and they’d passed that on to me. Mom, however, typically held it together. Dad fared only slightly better as he held on to both of us—one hand on my shoulder and his other holding Mom’s. We stayed together and talked with the people who came up to us before the service began. No one talked specifically about how John died, and I appreciated that because I replayed that scene too often already. The comments focused on how great he’d been to work with and what a good friend he’d been.

  I really wanted Eddie here with me. Holding his hand would’ve been a huge comfort, but he’d been in detention since we’d arrived. He spent most of his time debriefing, and we’d only been allowed to see each other for a few moments before his first interview. I wouldn’t see him again until the interviews were done. Winger understood why; Theo wanted to see his boyfriend again.

  “Winger, look who’s here.” Lorenzo approached with someone I’d indeed been eager to talk to—Shields.

  “Winger, I’m sorry I haven’t been available the last couple of days. It’s been….”

  I held up a hand. “It’s okay. I’m so glad you’re safe.” Seeing her added to the feelings that created a whirlpool in my soul that threatened to overtake me. I selfishly hoped we’d be able to have a long talk today because I had so much to say.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss with Shotgun. I’ve blocked out my afternoon, so you and I can talk if Doc and Red Hat can spare you.”

  I darted my eyes toward Lorenzo, and he nodded. “I’ve already talked to Red Hat. Take whatever time you need.”

  Wish granted.

  “Good,” she said with a concerned smile.

  “Thanks,” I said, voice broken.

  A minister called us together. He stood at a podium as everyone took seats—this room normally had a conference table in it, but it had been used for many gatherings like this one and had rows of chairs.

  Pastor Stein had been well briefed on what John did and what he meant to people. His words to us, who he’d referred to as John’s second family, were more comforting than I’d expected. They reinforced what Dad had said earlier—that he’d always be near.

  Mom, Dad, and I wanted to speak. In fact we would be the only ones other than Red Hat, who was paying respects on behalf of the agency. Mom and Dad said I wasn’t obligated to, but there was no way I could stay quiet. John meant a lot, and I needed the moment to say goodbye.

  I sat next to my parents. They’d spoken without anything written, and I hadn’t put anything on paper either, but I wished I had. When Dad finished and returned to his seat, I suddenly worried I couldn’t put into words what John meant to me.

  At the podium, I looked at the people assembled, but every time I opened my mouth, I didn’t know where to begin. As I studied my shoes for inspiration, Dad came back to the podium and put his hand on my shoulder. I met his gaze, and he gave a slight nod—it said everything. I could either go on or step away, and it would be okay. My nod sent him back to his seat. I had to do this.

  “Shotgun has been part of my life for almost as long as I can remember,” I said, shakily. “For a long time, I considered him to be my uncle—my mom’s brother. He was around when my parents weren’t. Later he became a trusted colleague, and on more than one occasion, he and I worked together to help agents in the field who needed a little extra tech support.”

  I took a deep breath to try and steady myself, so I could speak clearly. “My favorite times working with him when I started out focused on simple tasks. We’d huddle around the computers in my room and—this might be breaking usual protocol—we’d make a video game out of it. We’d have popcorn and snacks while I’d hack into security systems or remotely open locks while he’d relay information. We knew it was serious business, but he made it more interesting for a twelve-year-old. He never stopped bringing popcorn anytime we worked in front of my computers.

  “I owe Shotgun—”

  A sob leapt out, stepping on the words I wanted to say. I gripped the sides of the podium and focused on my parents. While their eyes were moist, they beamed so much love in my direction it bolstered me to continue.

  “I owe Shotgun my life. I’ll never forget that. But I’ll try to focus more on the good times when he was simply a member of the family. The guy who often came to my hockey games, joined us for family dinners, tried desperately to get me to like literature, and who was always there when my parents couldn’t be.

  “I’ve thought a lot the past few days about one of his favorite novels—one I hated reading for school until he showed me how a story set over one hundred years ago was relevant to today. I got an A on my paper about Ragtime, and the book’s become one of my favorites. He liked a lot of passages in that book—but one in particular from the end he loved because of the closure it brought: ‘And by that time the era of Ragtime had run out….’ Shotgun, may you rest in peace. While our era has ended, I’ll do my best to live up to the chance that you’ve given me to create more history.”

  I returned to my seat next to Mom, who pressed more tissues into my hand that I immediately put to use. She patted my knee, and I resisted the ur
ge to lay my head against her shoulder. It didn’t seem proper in this setting.

  After a final prayer from the minister, the service was over, and the gathering shifted into a wake. I hugged Mom and Dad and excused myself. I had to get out before the walls closed in.

  John was gone.

  It wasn’t clear what would happen to me, Mom, Dad, and Eddie.

  At least I was useful here. Lorenzo made that extremely clear.

  In the hall I stood with my back to the wall, working to catch my breath and keep from freaking out.

  “Winger?” Shields spoke in her usual soothing tone.

  “Sorry.” I looked to her. We usually talked by phone only sometimes using FaceTime or Skype. It’d been a while since I’d seen her kind, gentle eyes.

  “Don’t apologize. You can take only so much before you have to release what you’re feeling. What you’re going through is significant and uncharted for you.”

  “Do you think…?”

  It wasn’t the right time.

  “What?” she asked when I didn’t continue.

  “Could we can we maybe talk now?” I blurted out. “I really don’t think I can go back in there.”

  “Of course. Come on, I’ve got a temporary office.”

  I pushed off the wall just as Dad stepped into the hall. Was I letting him down, or John, by not being with everyone else?

  I turned, crashed into Dad, and wrapped my arms around him. He embraced me tight. What did the people in the room think about what was happening through the open door? No one else was having a meltdown.

  “I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,” I said, softer each time through tears that would not stop.

  “Oh, Theo,” he said… the first time anyone had said my actual name outside of residence quarters since I arrived. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

  Dad’s voice was calm. How could he be so calm?

  The world had flown apart.

  “Honey,” Mom rubbed the small of my back below Dad’s hug. “Come on. We’ve been here long enough.”

  “Come,” Shields said. “We can all go talk.”

  I don’t know how she had so much time, but we talked for hours. For a while Mom and Dad were with us, but then they left us alone. We took a few breaks along the way—sometimes to let me recover from crying and sometimes just to get up, stretch, and get something to drink or go to the restroom. It was a weight off me getting to unload everything with Shields. We set it up, so I’d see her daily to talk about anything I needed to—that felt like one part of normalcy restored.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I RELISHED being back on the ice. It’d only been thirteen days since the last practice with Mitch and the team, but it felt like an eternity. Even the massive layoff from the shoulder injury last season seemed less.

  I probably called in every favor that I ever had with TOS, even ones I might’ve earned during the mission that had just occurred, to make this happen. I convinced everyone it was the right thing to do for a number of reasons. My parents, Shields, and Coach were accomplices.

  It was nearly eleven at night, and the rink was deserted this late on a weeknight. My gear was still locked up in my locker because as far as anyone knew, I was still coming back to the team. Once I was done here, the gear would go back, exactly how I always placed it, and I’d never see it again.

  I skated the perimeter of the rink, feeling the skates scrape against the ice and making the telltale sound I loved so much. My helmet was off, and the breeze that I kicked up ruffled my longer-than-usual hair.

  I stopped and turned as the rink door’s distinct thunk sounded.

  “Theo!” Mitch looked to me from across the ice, holding his helmet and stick.

  I skated over fast, stopping in front of him and spraying shaved ice onto his shins. We smiled and stared at each other.

  I hoped he wasn’t going to freak. I’d spent most of yesterday doing that while I talked to Shields about this.

  “Coach said you were gonna be here, but I still didn’t quite believe it. Are you okay? I kept hoping the news would mention something about you. I know the building you got me out of blew up the other day.” I nodded. “Were you there?”

  I nodded again. “I was, yeah. Got the job done.”

  His mouth hung open adding to his already confused look. “What was all that about?” he finally asked. “All Coach told me when he brought me home was that I couldn’t tell anyone about you two, or Eddie, and to say that I couldn’t identify any of the people who had me. Basically I had to say that they just let me go. The cops somehow accepted it.”

  “It’s complicated. I can’t tell you much.”

  “Are you like 007 or something? You seemed kinda badass showing up there.”

  I laughed, and it felt so good to do that with Mitch. “Come on, let’s skate a little, and we’ll talk.”

  He nodded, and we stopped at the bench, so he could put his helmet and stick down next to mine. We took off to skate at an easy pace around the outer perimeter of the oval.

  “I like to think of myself more as Q than 007, but yeah, I’ve worked for an agency for a while now. That’s really all I can tell you, and I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’m breaking all kinds of procedure even being here. I had to come thank you. If you hadn’t told Coach to talk to Dean, I honestly don’t know if I’d have survived.”

  We built up speed, following one of our routine warm-ups. We fell into it without even talking about it.

  “Look, let me say this to get it out of the way so we can have some fun here before I have to go.” We didn’t break stride as I talked. We’d done this for so many years that we had to go a lot faster before we couldn’t talk. “As you can probably guess with all the secrecy, you can’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  I started to say more but had to take a breath before I spoke. I’d thought a lot about how to tell Mitch what would happen next. I’d even practiced it in front of a mirror in the plane’s bathroom during the trip up here. “Tomorrow it’ll break in the news that I was found in the rubble of the building.”

  As we went around a curve behind a goal line, he kept looking to me and then back straight ahead. Ultimately, he stopped so hard that I had to turn back to get to him.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Theodore Reese will be declared dead tomorrow.”

  He looked on the verge of losing it. I wished I could’ve cushioned the blow somehow.

  “What does it mean? Are your parents okay with this? Do they know?”

  “They do. They helped me get permission to tell you. But, seriously, not a word—ever. It could be seriously bad.” He nodded vigorously. “I’ve been an agent for six years now—mostly behind the computer, but more recently I’ve been out doing missions. I got into it because my parents were doing it.”

  “Damn, you think you know somebody.” He laughed. I could tell he was trying to keep his shit together, but at least he could find a little humor.

  “I’m sorry I had to hide stuff.”

  He made a pfft noise. “Please. I know how that secret identity stuff works.” He took some easy strides, and we got back into the skating.

  “At least that explains some of the weirdness over the last year,” he continued.

  “For sure.”

  He looked to me as he kept his speed up. “So what happens to you?”

  “It’ll be like witness protection. New identity, new life, new everything.”

  “Wow,” he said with reverence, like it was something cool. “So, I never see you again?”

  I shook my head.

  I’d suspected it would happen. I didn’t want it, but there weren’t other options at this point. New identities would keep everyone safe. I didn’t have specifics on when the new IDs would be ready, but it would be soon.

  “Oh man,” he said with the sadness I dreaded hearing. “I thought we’d be those guys who stayed friends forever. You know, phone c
alls keeping up with our teams. Probably be godfathers to our kids. See each other at least a couple of times a year.”

  He sounded wistful, and it pulled at my heart since there was nothing I could do.

  “I’m sorry, man. I wish it could be different.”

  “It’ll be okay.” He went faster, and I followed suit. “I know a spy. That’s pretty cool.” His mouth worked into one of his goofy smiles. Only Mitch could take something that shredded both of us and find any sort of silver lining. His glassy eyes betrayed how he really felt, though.

  “Listen,” I said, “this is gonna be sappy, but you need to know that you’re an amazing friend. I hate that my work messed it all up. I can only hope that wherever I settle next, I end up with a friend as good as you. You set the bar super high.”

  Mitch caught my arm and brought us to an easy stop. “First of all, no one can be as awesome as me.” His bravado made me smile. “Seriously, though, don’t talk like that. This is hard enough.”

  I nodded and pulled him into an embrace. Hugging in hockey gear might not be easy with the extra padding, but we managed a pretty good one, and he slapped me on the back a couple of times.

  “We have some time for a little one-on-one before you have to go?”

  “Oh yeah. More people than you can imagine are watching right now to make sure that no one bothers us. Coach will let us know when we have to wrap up.”

  We headed for the bench to get our stuff.

  “What happened…?”

  “Go ahead, ask.” He at least should ask even if I couldn’t answer.

  “What happened with Eddie? You haven’t talked about him.”

  I considered what I could say. He’d seen Eddie so….

  “You don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “I haven’t seen him in a few days, but he’s safe.” I finally dove in.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened with you two but… will you get back with him?”

  I appreciated how he jumped over agent stuff and went right to the heart of the matter.

  I strapped my helmet on as I figured out what to say. “You’ll never know how fucked up it was. But, man, I need advice. I haven’t gotten over him, and the time we spent together while I was in that building was pretty great, all things considered. But I have no idea if that’s the right thing to do. I don’t even know with the new identity if he and I would be allowed to be together.”