Page 73 of Must Love Dogs… and Hockey

In the afternoon we bundle up and take Otis for a walk, strolling the paths at Riverside Park along the edge of the river.

He tells me about what happened after the game last night. Watching the game on TV, I didn’t realize what had occurred, but slow-motion replays showed Easton’s skate lace getting caught on his teammate’s skate. They all said it was a crazy freak thing, but it cost them a goal.

“He threw a clipboard at you?” We’re sitting on a bench, and my spine straightens with outrage. “What the hell?”

Easton grimaces and rubs his stubbled jaw. “He missed.”

“That is not the point! Jesus! I can’t believe a grown man can get away with acting like that!”

“Yeah, I know.”

“That’s assault, Easton!” I stare at him. “You have to do something about it.”

“Ha. Like what? Call the cops?”

I bite my lip. “I know hockey’s a physical sport and fighting is part of it, but that isnotokay.”

“You have to be tough to play hockey.”

I shake my head. “Seriously? Stuff like that in the locker room is normal in hockey? That’s fucked up.”

“It’s not normal,” he admits. “But we have to be team players. Nobody wants to stick out by making a big thing of it. So we deal with it.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t know. It sounds like abuse to me.”

I see his frustration. He’s pissed at his coach but thinks he has to put up with that. I don’t know hockey culture, but it doesn’t sound right to me.

“When he sees the tape, he’s going to realize that it wasn’t something Jammer and I did wrong. It’ll be fine.”

I don’t think he’s as sure of that as he makes out, but I let it go.

We stop at a little dumpling place and pick up our dinner to go, carrying it back to Easton’s place to eat edamame, pork dumplings, and lo mein. And then later, Easton and Otis walk me home.

“You don’t have to come with me,” I tell him. “I’ve been walking around this neighborhood for years on my own.”

“I know. But Otis loves walks.”

The snow that was falling earlier didn’t stay on the ground, although there are a few places where the sidewalks are dusted white.

“Next week is Thanksgiving,” I say as we walk. “Do you have plans?”

“Uh, sort of. We only have one day off, Thanksgiving. Home game Wednesday night and then we’re in Boston Friday. So Gunner and Layla are doing a Thanksgiving potluck for anyone who wants to join them.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“What about you?”

My mom invited me to go to Syracuse for Thanksgiving, but I looked at Easton’s schedule. I already knew he had an away game on Friday, and he’d need me to look after Otis, so I told her I can’t make it. I feel guilty about that because she’s on her own. So I asked her to come here. She thinks she probably won’t get time off work, though. “My mom might come here. She hasn’t let me know yet.”

“You can come to Gunner’s with me if you want.”

“Really? They wouldn’t mind?”

“Hell, no. They know you. We just have to bring food.”

I laugh. “I can do that. I’ll confirm once I know my mom’s plans.” Carlin’s going home for the full four days so I’ll be alone in the apartment if Mom doesn’t come.

At my door, he gives me a squeeze. “Did I tell you how happy I was that you were in my bed last night?”

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