Page 31 of Offside and Off-Limits
So, comment away, internet strangers. At the end of the day, Cade and I both know the truth: the only sparks flying were from his skate blades scraping against the ice as he caught me.
I scroll further and notice a comment from an account I recognize.
You've inspired so many of us! Living proof that chronic illness doesn't end your story!
Huh.I wasn't expectingthat.
I started @CFSMomLife to document my own wellness journey, to connect with other people who understood the way chronic illness reshapes your life. Of course falling into Cade's arms on a livestream wasn't exactly planned chronic illness representation, but seeing this comment, seeing that people in my community watched this moment and felt hope? That's something I hadn't considered, and it hits me right in the heart.
I’m accidentally showing the world that chronic illness warriors can be more than their illness.
I tap out a quick reply.
@CFSMomLife:
You're right. Chronic illness may be part of our stories, but it’s not the end of it. We deserve all the joy and unexpected moments life has to offer.
Even if it’s falling into a known womanizer’s arms on the ice. I don’t type that last part, but I sure as heck think it.
I glance at the time on my phone. I’m due to meet Veronica in less than five minutes. With no let-up in the rain, I open my door, pop up an umbrella, and dash across the parking lot and into the offices, cursing as I step in a puddle, water splashing up my shin.
When I make it into the office, the whole place is abuzz with the news about Alexander MacDonald, the long-lost heir to Maple Falls and its surrounding land. Since the emergency town meeting, everyone has been throwing ideas around about how to raise the money we need to save this town we love, including the idea of a bachelor auction that I know will be crazy popular.
People will come from all over the state and beyond to get the chance to buy a date with one of the team’s hunky hockey players, even if it is for just forty-five minutes. These guys are all big stars we’re lucky to have on the newest team in the NHL—which, as it turns out, is the inspiration for my idea.
I knock on Veronica’s door, and she calls me in to take a seat. I clasp my hands on the wooden table in front of me and beginto present my idea. “I did a bunch of research and found this idea I thought could be fun to do for both social media content as well as to raise money for the town.”
“Two birds with one stone. I like where this is heading. How would it work?”
“We would get a bunch of the guys to volunteer. This wouldn't be a mandatory thing. They would wear their Ice Breaker jerseys, making them immediately identifiable as team members. People can bid on the opportunity to throw a bucket of water over them.”
She shoots me an uncertain lock. “How many buckets of water will you put these poor volunteers through?”
“Just one for each of the volunteers. The highest bid wins. Otherwise, the guys might run the risk of catching hypothermia and won't be able to play, which no one wants.”
“Clearly.” She taps top of her ballpoint pen against her chin. “I can see how this would be fun content for the socials. It’s something different. New. You’re getting to know the team now, Clara. Do you think you’ll be able to get volunteers?”
Immediately, my mind darts to Cade and the fact he agreed to every single one of my initiatives. “I already have one, and I’m sure I could get a bunch more. They’re good guys. Friendly. Easy to get along with.”
“And when would you plan on doing this?”
“I've thought about that already. It would be a fun thing to do at the farmers’ market one weekend. It’s the perfect place to do it. It’s outside, we can set up a makeshift stage, and we could even get the mayor to MC it. It’d be a whole town event.”
“I’m loving this idea, Clara. I visited that farmers’ market at the weekend. It was so quaint, with lots of delicious food options and things to buy.”
“My sister, Keira Roberts, runs it. I already asked her if we could run something like this. Just in case you agreed.”
“Very proactive of you.”
“She said she could set up a stage for the guys to stand on,provide a microphone for the mayor, donate the use of a tent for the guys to change in once they're wet, and even provide the buckets and water.”
“Thank you, Clara’s sister. If we do go ahead, what would we call it? Dunk a Hunk?” She grins at me.
“Soak the Skater? Oh, what about Wet and Icy?”
She mock shivers. “Or Buckets and Biceps.”
We both begin to laugh.
