Page 61 of Off The Ice

Hell, I had issues with most of the population, but she drew me in.

“I don’t know,” she said, shrinking into herself. “I know it sounds stupid, but I feel like sometimes people don’t take me seriously just because I try to be happy. It’s like they think I’m dumb for trying to stay positive. I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy. And a lot of them like to sit around and complain about things—the kids, the parents, the administration, whatever. And it’s almost like they hold it against me that I don’t.”

“You’re not crazy,” I told her. “Misery loves company.”

“That’s what they say.” She shrugged sadly. “It just sucks to be excluded because I don’t want to gossip.”

I felt a surge of anger at the thought of Cassie going to work every day feeling anything less than accepted and loved. She had to deal with the shit with her ex, plus shitty coworkers on top of it?

ThankGodI had come to my senses fast enough and got her to stay with me. If she had to deal with figuring out a living situation on top of it all, I don’t think I could bear it.

The pizza came before I could tell her to fuck all those people and keep doing her thing. But somehow, I figured that it wouldn’t be the type of advice she wanted to hear.

Cassie struck me as the type of person who deeply cared about people and what they thought of her, and while that wasn’t necessarily a trait we had in common, I couldn’t fault her for it.

She dug into her slice, making a noise of pure bliss after the first bite. There was enough cheese that it stretched off the pizza in long, white strands, and I had to try it myself to see if it was as life-changing as Cassie’s expression made it out to be.

It was.

“So, what about you?” she asked me between slices as she wiped her fingers on the napkin.

“What about me?”

“Well, I just told you about my job, and I think it’s pretty clear that despite some minor drawbacks, I’m pretty much living my dream. So, what’s yours?”

“Hockey,” I answered simply, somewhat confused by the question. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Right, but is that all you ever want to do? Like, what else? Any other big ambitions, or goals, or secret aspirations?”

I felt myself withdrawing. Through no fault of her own, Cassie had struck a nerve, venturing into a dangerous topic for me. Because the truth was, I had been grappling with the very questions myself for the last few years.

What’s next?

“Being in the NHL is no small thing,” I said. “In fact, I think it qualifies as ‘dream job’ territory.”

“Right, of course,” she said, quick to correct. “I only meant, what else do you see for yourself in the future? You’re more than just a hockey player, you know.”

Was I? No one else seemed to think so.

“If I’m being honest, that’s kind of a tough subject,” I admitted, leaning back in my seat.

“Is it?” Her eyes widened as if afraid she’d offended me, but still, she dared to ask. “But why?”

“Why?” I repeated her question, mulling it over in my mind. “Because I don’t know who I am other than that.”

“That can’t be true,” she said.

“It is,” I confirmed solemnly. “All I ever wanted to be was a hockey player, and I spent my life working toward that. There wasn’t much time for anything else. And now…”

“And now,” she pressed softly, willing me to continue.

“Now I only have a few good years left in my career, and I’m terrified of what my life will look like after that.”

“What?” She balked, mouth opening in utter shock. “You’re only twenty… something years old—”

“Twenty-six,” I said. “And most NHL players retire somewhere between now and thirty.”

“That’s crazy,” she admitted. “You’re like the fittest guy I’ve ever seen. You could play foryears.”

---