Page 3 of The Lucky One
TWO
October
“Fuck this noise!”one of my teammates shouts when practice is over. “You D-men have got to get your shit together.”
The fact that I can understand him means that my English is improving. But it’s cold comfort.
Six weeks in, my life in Brooklyn is a slog. I’m still living out of a hotel, because I can’t find an apartment close to the rink that’s also in my price range. My paycheck is not small, but I don’t have any job security. If I sign an expensive lease, and then I’m traded again, I’ll blow up my budget on months of promised rent.
Also, my team is on a losing streak. The other new defenseman—the veteran player who’s supposed to become Brooklyn’s latest star—is also having a difficult time settling in.
On the one hand, at least I know I’m not the cause of all our woes. On the other hand, we could use a break. Things are tense in the locker room.
But we have a saying in Finnish, and I can almost hear my youth coach saying it in my ear:Työ tekijäänsä neuvoo. Work teaches the worker. He would remind me to dig in and keep trying. So that’s what I do.
And to shore myself up, I make frequent trips to Romano & Bianchi for pizza. Not only is it close to my hotel, but I have memorized Chiara’s work schedule. Today is Tuesday, and she works the lunch shift. If I hurry, I can get there by two o’clock, with plenty of time to linger over lunch, and chat her up.
So I hurry through the locker room and claim a shower before they’re all taken.
“If only you showed that same hustle on the ice today,” Castro grumbles.
“Don’t take shots at the new guy,” our captain says. “Our issues aren’t as simple as that.”
He’s almost certainly right. But if we don’t pull it together, I won’t need to find an apartment after all.
* * *
Forty minuteslater I stride into Romano & Bianchi. My eyes sweep the place and land on Chiara right away. She’s making someone’s dessert just inside the kitchen.
I linger a moment, because there are two waiters during the lunch rush. Today it’s her, and the man who does not like me. I’d made the mistake of sitting in his section one time, and he was so surly to me that I’d wondered how he kept his job. But then I’d heard the cook call “Hey, Bianchi!” and I’d realized he’s the son of one of the owners.
Chiara is a niece of the other owner—she is a Romano. Two families own this place, which is a thing I have learned over time, along with Chiara’s schedule, and her thoughts about pizza toppings.
I have also memorized the precise shape of her smile, and the way she lifts her chin when she laughs.
Now Chiara comes out of the kitchen and spots me. Her smile is enormous. She juts her chin toward an empty table at the front, indicating that I should sit there.
I do, and she arrives at my side just a couple of minutes later. “Ivo! How’s your week going?”
“Okay. And yours?” My English is so much more functional than the first time I came in here. I make an effort to speak to Chiara, and it gets a little less awkward each time.
Actually, I asked her to help me with that, and she said yes.
I still haven’t asked her out for a date, though.
“Can’t complain,” she says, setting an ice cold glass of sparkling water with lemon down in front of me. “I had an idea for your English lessons,” she says, crossing her arms over her perfect chest. There is a little gold cross on a delicate chain around her neck, and I often fantasize about kissing here there, where her pulse flutters at her throat. “A game.”
I’m a little distracted by this image, so it takes me a moment to respond. “A game?”
She pulls a phone out of her apron pocket. “I know how much you like the almond cookies. Get four English words right, and I’ll bring them to you for free.”
“That is very…” I pause to find the right word. “Motivating.”
She laughs, and I feel it in my nuts. Another new word, this one learned in the locker room. I know a lot of dirty English words these days. It’s the company I keep.
“Okay, here you go. I made the first round easy.” She holds up her phone and shows me a picture that makes me laugh.
“You are kinder than any of my teachers in school.”
