Page 45 of Her Goal
HUDSON
I start to protest,wanting to explain that there must’ve been a misunderstanding. They think Leah and I are getting married?
She scowls at me, giving me the sense that nothing was lost in translation and that I ought to play the game if I know what’s good for me. When it comes to life off the ice, I’ve failed abysmally at that.
But why would she go along with the suggestion that we’re getting married?
I expect her to come at me with verbal bullets flying, push me into the pool, and then start a food fight like at Mami and Papi’s reception as if this is somehow my fault. But maybe she doesn’t want to ruin her parents’ anniversary party.
Instead of telling the crowd of family and friends circling us that there was a mistake, she accepts their congratulations. A near-constant stream of people wish us well. The uncles light up cigars, placing one in my hand. I already hear debates about whether we should have a spring or fall ceremony like her parents.
Abuela tells me, in Spanish, that we remind her of Dulcemaria and Eduardo. She also says something about mebeing the “Chosen One,” but I second-guess myself. I probably didn’t translate that well. I once told my Spanish professor that she smelled like a drunk liver. To be clear, that’s not what I meant, nor am I familiar with that particular odor.
“I take that as a compliment,” I manage to say to Abuela.
Somehow, over the animated chatter and cheers, Leah overheard the exchange. “You understood what my grandmother said?”
While I accept congratulations kisses on both cheeks from a woman with hair nearly as big as the state of Texas, I say, “Had to take Spanish in college, then I worked on a construction crew.”
“You worked while in college?” Her brow wrinkles as if that information does not compute.
“It didn’t pay for itself.”
“What about scholarships?”
“Are you arguing with me right now?”
She shakes her head as if snapping herself out of it and her aunt starts offering her wedding night advice, in Spanish. I do my best to close my ears.
I have no idea what just happened, but I’ll play the game … for now.
When the guys on the team break through the wall of family members, there are whistles and claps on the back.
Pierre says, “You moved fast, Robo.”
Jack pulls me in for a bro hug and in a deep voice, says, “You take good care of her. She’s one of ours.”
I’m puzzled by what he means until Chuck points at his own eyes with two fingers and then flips direction, pointing at me as if to say that he’s watching me.
Message received, loud and clear. If anyone with the last name Roboveitchek hurts her again, they will pay. But that’s not going to happen because she’s not mine. We’ll clear it uplater. Somehow. Though with all the excitement surrounding the announcement, backing out seems like it’ll cause more harm than good.
As everyone’s attention turns to the dancefloor, Leah and I finally have a moment alone, though not really because she’s holding an infant who is quietly sleeping in her arms. The kind of warmth that comes from sitting in front of a crackling fire on a cold night comes over me. Seeing her so comfortable and affectionate with the baby makes my heart do a strange little pitter-patter that I’m afraid she can hear.
“What is that?”
“A baby?” she answers, appalled.
“I meant, whatwasthat?” But it’s not clear whether I mean what happened inside my chest or during the party in general when her parents announced that we’re getting married.
“Oh, you mean my mother and father played a practical joke on me, their lonesingledaughter. Ha ha. Sonotfunny.” At odds with how sweet she looks with the snuggly baby, she shakes her head. “It’s on. They’ll pay for this.”
“I didn’t get the sense they were joking.”
“What else could it have been?”
“I don’t have a reasonable answer for that.”
With a storm in her eyes, she says, “You were in on this, huh?”
