Page 29 of The Tape Job
Vicky
I’ll always remember the first time I saw Liam.
I knew Johnny was on a team with a set of twins, but I hadn’t met them. He’d spoken about them a lot, but I wasn’t all that interested—not until my parents forced me to sit in on his practices. Then I saw him.
He was undertaking skating drills with Johnny and his brother, and I don’t even think I knew his name. But his number, ‘18,’ was etched in my mind.
My first actual encounter with him was when my dad sent me to the ice just after Coach dismissed the team. I was supposed to tell Johnny to hurry up and not to take his sweet-ass time like he usually did. But by the time I made it to the tunnels, he’d disappeared out of sight.
“Can I help you?” Liam’s voice drifted through the air. “Koenig’s sister, right?”
“Yeah. Vicky,” I replied.
He was looking right at me in a way I’d never seen anyone look at me before. I could feel the heat in my cheeks, and I’d wager that my ears were pink too. Thankfully, my toque was pulled down enough to cover them.
“Nice to meet you, Vicster. I’m Liam,” he’d grinned. Then he went to hold out his hand but realised his glove was still on, retracting it awkwardly.
It was at that moment Ryan came bounding off the ice to join his brother, almost pushing him into me.
“Ryan, this is Johnny’s sister. Vicky,” Liam said, steadying himself.
Ryan greeted me brightly, then gave his brother a shove, trying to edge him towards the dressing room.
“Did you want Johnny?” Liam had asked me. He was tall, and on his skates, he made me feel tiny. I wanted him to pick me up and engulf me in a hug. I don’t know why, since I’d never even spoken to him before, but I felt safe around him—it was odd. “Do you want me to pass on a message?” He was twisting his stick in his hands, hopping between his skates.
“Thanks. Can you tell him that Dad is waiting, and he needs to be quick? Also, he needs to return the skates to the hire desk.” I must have sounded like such a loser.
He smiled, telling me he’d be sure to pass the message on, and then he and Ryan went towards the dressing room. I watched him until he reached the threshold where he stopped and turned back, locking eyes with me. With a slight smile, he’d glanced at me one last time before disappearing.
Even now, all these years later, that feeling I get when he looks at me—the feeling of being safe and noticed—is still strong. As I walk into the bar after the season opening, I spot him straight away. It’s like a sixth sense. My heart leaps in my chest. He’s surrounded by girls. They are draping themselves all over him, and there are selfies and touching—jealousy bubbles in my stomach.
I’m about to make my way further into the bar, but I start a mental battle with myself. I don’t think I want to stay to watch Liam getting swarmed by women all night. Especially when I made a complete fool of myself by kissing him, then telling him I wanted nothing to do with him. I hesitate for a moment before creeping backwards and out on to the street where I call a taxi to take me home.
I spend my Saturday night wearing one of Liam’s old hockey t-shirts and eating ice cream from the tub while Iwatch old episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’ Jen has texted me four times asking where I am and if I’m okay; but I brush her off, not wanting her to feel compelled to ruin her evening for my sake. Besides, I’ve taken my contact lenses out now, and I’m giving my eyes a rest so I couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to.
After the ice cream, I lay on the sofa, only half interested in the TV. I navigate to Liam’s Insta and have a look through. Again. To my surprise, he’s had a huge clear-out. He deleted or untagged lots of posts that were there before and changed his profile picture to one I took during pre-season.
As I scroll through, I feel a mix of disappointment and confusion because I feel like crying tonight, but he’s giving me nothing to go off. Not one picture from tonight has made it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was looking at Ryan’s Insta instead—though his page has turned into a love-dovey display of affection for Jenna.
I toss my phone on the sofa and concentrate back on the TV. ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ always reminds me of my mom.
Mom is a surgeon who runs a department specialising in cardio, and she spent so much time at work it drove her and my dad apart—or at least that’s what Johnny and I were led to believe.
I think deep down that’s the reason I didn’t want to commit to going to Toronto with Liam. I didn’t want to be a new version of my parents: myself playing the role my dad did, forever waiting at home for my mom to come home. But once she did, finding her exhausted, snappy, and not in the mood to do anything.
I always thought that’s what it would be like for Liam and me, considering the environment. I could imagine him coming home tired, irritated because he’d not played his best, or they’d lost or whatever, and going straight to bed—leaving me to a long evening alone, just like my dad went through.
I can’t say I blame him for having many affairs sometimes, because he clearly needed some sort of affection and connection with someone—not that he went about it the right way. But I didn’t want that for me and Liam. I wanted us to have our happily-ever-after, and the idea of marrying him only to end up divorcing him later wasn’t something I could agree with.
Reaching for my phone, I text my mom and ask how she is. She doesn’t reply because she’s probably in surgery, so I just lie here and muse. Mainly about the unsuccessful trip back home during the off-season, and how I was expecting to show up at the airport to be greeted by one of my parents, looking at least a little excited to see me. Much to my disappointment, my dad sent a cab and told the driver to drop me off at mom’s place where he’d be over for dinner that evening.
When he eventually showed up, he brought in some takeout and spent the whole time swiping and tapping away on his phone like a teenager. And when he finally spoke to me, it was to ask about Johnny.
I admit, I could have tried to make conversation, but what’s the point when you know someone isn’t at all interested?
“Fine,” I’d replied.
“Is he dating, yet?”
