Page 38 of Offside and Off-Limits
Now, if the rest of me could quit doing backflips whenever he's around, everyone could get on with what they’re meant to be doing, rather than feeling certain things that shouldn’t be felt.
Asher clears his throat, his eyes flicking around the room. “I was talking with Cade here the other day and he suggested I try this out. I’ve not been to one of these things before.”
“Would you like to share why, if you’re comfortable doing so, Asher?” Bernice asks. “We’re an open group, but we keep whatever we share within the group at all times. I can assure you of that.”
Asher nods, but his lips remain firmly shut.
Unlike Cade’s lips which would benefit from some duct tape right about now.
“Kinda like what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?” Cade asks with a grin, and I notice all the women in the room smile back at him as though what he said was utterly fascinating. Which of course it wasn’t. It was just an overused cliché and totally inappropriate for a support group.
“I love Vegas,” Marianne simpers. “Have you spent a lot of time there, Cade?”
Martin harrumphs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms again.
Cade shrugs. “A few times, I guess. My last team, the New York City Blades, played there a bit, of course. We beat the Knights there in the playoffs last season.”
“The playoffs? You must have been so proud,” Carmen says.
Oh, good grief.
“It’s a good feeling whenever you beat another team. Right, Asher?” Cade says.
“Yeah, it’s the best,” Asher agrees.
“I’m not sure Vegas or hockey is exactly a Chronic Warriors topic,” I protest, hoping to get this session back on track. But it falls on deaf ears.
“Do you gamble, Cade?” Carmen asks, her voice equally simpering. “Cade. That’s a nice name. Is it short for anything?”
“Nah, just Cade, and I’m not much of a gambler. Me? I like the shows. The Cirque du Soleil ones are pretty good. Oh, and I saw Garth Brooks there not that long ago. Even got to meet the guy. He was awesome. I’m a big fan,” he replies.
“I love Garth Brooks, too,” Tasha says and receives a sharp look from her husband. “What? It’s true, sweetheart.”
I’m about to open my mouth in an attempt to get us back on track—and away from this embarrassing and entirely unnecessary fangirling over hockey players—when Bernice does the job for me.
“Shall we get back on topic?” she asks. “Asher, feel free to share why you’re here tonight, if you so wish. If not, we’ll move on.”
Asher’s features tighten, and I feel for the guy. He’s clearly anxious, and I wonder whether he’s here for a genuine reason—or just along for the ride with Mr. Vegas.
“I’m happy to share,” Asher begins. “I know you all probably think we hockey players are pretty invincible,” he begins, his hands clasped tight in his lap. “We’re big and strong and athletic. Don’t get me wrong, I’m healthy. You know, I don’t have a disease exactly.”
“Illness can take many forms, Asher. In this room right nowwe have people with differing diagnoses, but we all share a common journey.”
“I…I guess I do have a thing,” he says, glancing at Cade, who shoots him an encouraging look.
“You got this, man,” Cade says.
Asher continues, “I’ve got these rituals, you know? Things I’ve got to do to keep sane.”
“Like what?” Martin asks, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“The tape on my stick needs to be in a certain symmetrical pattern, and if I don’t get it looking exactly the way I like, I redo it until it overlaps precisely half an inch each time over the twenty-four wraps. Or like when I get my game gear on, I need to do it in the same order every time. No changes.”
“What happens if you don’t do these things?” Carmen asks, enraptured.
Asher shakes his head, his lips pulled into a line. “I’ve never risked it.” He returns his gaze to his clasped hands in his lap.
“You’re doing good,” Cade encourages once more.
