Page 79 of Gross Misconduct

“It was a hell of a first impression,” I say.

“If your coach hadn’t waited until late in the season to give you serious time on the ice, you wouldn’t have been in that position.”

I can hear the “Hallelujah” chorus. I’ve always felt screwed by that freshman season. Had I been able to play more in the season, one (admittedly bad) turnover wouldn’t have torpedoed my career. For the first time, someone is taking my side.

If these chairs weren’t so uncomfortable, I’d hug Griffin.

“Give yourself some credit, Jack.”

“Okay. What about you? Why do you crap all over yourself, huh?” I ask, wanting the spotlight off me and my career. “Why have your girls never seen you play? Why do they barely know you play?”

Griffin looks over at his daughters. “My ex-wife thinks hockey is too violent for them. She wasn’t at the game where your dad took out my eye, but she’s been haunted by the story ever since she heard it.”

“It’s a non-checking league. It’s family-friendly entertainment! I don’t think that’s the reason, though. You think because you never went pro, they wouldn’t care.”

Griffin shrugs. It’s one of the few things he doesn’t feel like fighting.

“Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Why do you say that?” When he doesn’t answer me right away, I dab his nose with orange paint.

“What was that for?” he asks, annoyed and also confused.

“Those girls are crazy about you! Trust me, they would love to know all about how Daddy played hockey.”

Griffin shrugs, and in response, I dab his forehead with yellow paint.

“Stop,” he says through laughter.

“Your girls are proud of you, Griffin.”

Something changes on his face at the uttering of proud. A quick, genuine smile beams on his lips.

“You should be proud of everything you’ve done, too,” I say. “You’re a success. And maybe, despite you being a sourpuss, I kind of envy what you have. It’s really wonderful.”

A spark of light dazzles in his eye as he nods. He might not believe the hype yet, but I’ll keep working on him.

The girls bring over fruit snacks for us. I rip open my bag and spill half into my mouth. June tries to copy me, but most of them fall onto the table.

“Are the pots ready?” Annabelle asks.

“We can pick them up in a week. They need to dry in the kiln.” Griffin walks over to the holding area where the two pots and other pottery creations from today wait for their turn to glaze. We all look at our pots in wonder as if animals in an exhibit.

A pang hits my chest knowing that this afternoon is winding down.

“There’s a gardening shop a few blocks down, if you guys are up for it. We can’t let these great pots sit empty.” Nobody says the day has to end yet. I can also put the gardening knowledge I learned at Ferguson’s to use.

I look to Griffin, hoping we get the green light. A big smile stretches across his face, a face I want to kiss so badly.

“Let’s pick out some flowers,” he says.

26

GRIFFIN

Idon’t want my day with Jack to end. After pottery, we walked to My Flower of Need, each of us carrying a girl on our shoulders. When I thought we’d say our goodbyes, Jack asked to see the ice castle I was building, which immediately got the girls excited. He followed us back to our house, and I couldn’t help feel a swell of pride as he admired the work-in-progress.

After that, I thought he would finally get on with his day. But then he picked up a hammer and began nailing in the last remaining planks of wood. I wasn’t going to sit by and let him do all the work. The girls put on music and played in the backyard as we finished the castle, capping one of the most enjoyable days I’ve had in a while. Was it all because of Jack’s presence? I’d like to say no, but I don’t want to lie to myself.

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