Page 20 of Shift Change

“I told them we were so far from cool, the air was boiling. I wanted to knock their teeth out, but for once, I was too wrecked to make a fist. I hadn’t hurt that badly in years, and by the time I could think straight, I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me lose it. My buddies were the assholes, not me.”

“They weren’t your fucking buddies, but I get it. You still had to play with them. And you said you lived with one?”

“Yeah, Kenny. He started crashing with Ozzie, the other one. Probably figured I might knife him in his sleep or something.” I groaned. “Not that I didn’t think about it.”

“How did it all turn out?”

I shrugged. “We tanked in the first round of playoffs. After that, I went to Ithaca to stay with Nana for a while. I always go in the summer to help her with stuff around the house and spend time together.”

“How about Ozzie and Kenny?”

“The Soldiers traded Kenny to Worcester, and when we all showed up for training camp this fall, Ozzie and I stayed out of each other’s way. We only spoke on the ice, and since we almost never played together, I managed to get by.”

“Damn.”

“It’s been hard to feel anything since it all went down, but I don’t hate women or anything. I’ve still got needs, but the idea of getting involved again?” I shook my head. “Not there yet. It feels too risky, like any woman I let in might end up hurting me.” Turning toward him, I met his eyes. “I know I’ve got to get past it, and I will. Just need a little more time.”

He scratched his neck. “God, I’m sorry for putting you in that position last night. I wanted you to have fun.”

“It’s all right. You didn’t know, and most guys would’ve probably been back in the saddle after a week. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s been over six months.”

“Nothingis wrong with you.” He narrowed his eyes and his voice rose. “You were seriously dumped on, and it’s a wonder you can trust anybody. What happened was not your fault, and you should take all the time you need to get your bearings.”

“Thanks.” I wanted to say more, but my voice was croaky. I didn’t feel like getting emotional.

“Believe me, I understand. We’re brothers in more than hockey.”

Holky

Dog said he needed air, so we went out on the deck for a few minutes before heading back to the basement. We grabbed two more beers and sat down like a couple of guys twice our age, struggling under the weight of feelings we didn’t know what to do with.

“These seats will never be the same,” I said. “Drenched in sorrow. Weird, since we’re two funny guys.”

Dog gave a rueful chuckle. “The secret source of humor itself is not joy, but sorrow.”

I cocked my head. “I recognize that. Shakespeare?”

He snickered, shaking his head. “Mark Twain.”

“Hell, no wonder it’s good.” I repeated the words. “He knew what he was talking about.”

“Pretty sure he didn’t have two emotionally constipated hockey players in mind, but here we are.”

“You’re not emotionally constipated. You cry on the inside, where no one can see it.”

“That’s where it counts,” he said. “It’s your turn now. My misery needs some company.”

I leaned forward and propped my elbows on my knees. “If we’re going to live together and be friends, you should know this shit, but can it stay between us? Some of the boys know different parts of the story, but no one knows everything.”

“Why don’t we agree this conversation is totally confidential? What’s said in Holky’s basement stays in Holky’s basement.”

“Deal.” I picked up my beer, drained half, and started in.

Dog sipped his beer while I talked, letting me tell him in my own way. I was never great with words, so it came out in bits and pieces, but he seemed to follow along.

I told him how I’d never been in a relationship with a woman because I never wanted commitment. “All the guys think I’m this big ladies’ man who breaks a lot of hearts, but that isn’t it. I don’t want anything to do with hearts; I’m nothing but a serial hookup artist. I love sex, so I find women to fuck and then take off before either of us gets attached.”

“Are you sure that’s it? Even in the minors, we were on the road as much as we were home, and when we were in Syracuse, there was no end to all the shit we had to do. It’s hard to?—”

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