Page 99 of Puck You
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If my weeklong suspension taught me anything, other than the obvious lesson of humility, it was that I needed more hobbies.It became painfully clear within the first twenty-four hours that I was aimless without hockey, and even more so without Grace.Every time I felt tempted to reach out to her, I remembered what Bryce had said when I’d told him I was going to make things right.It’s not going to be easy, not after what you said to her.I’d thrown salt in her deepest wounds, and only moments after she’d learned that her father was in the hospital.If I wanted Grace to forgive me, I needed something big.Something that showed how enormously sorry I was and proved without a shadow of a doubt that I’d do anything to make it up to her.It would take time, and help, which meant in the meantime, I needed to find some way to keep myself distracted.
Given my need for self-reflection, the most obvious choice was to pick up a book.This turned out to be an immediate failure when, upon walking into Nelson Library, all it took was the familiar scent of musty books to remind me of how much time Grace and I had spent hiding between the dusty shelves, exchangingheated looks when we were supposed to be studying.My next attempt was even feebler, given how doubtful I was from the very beginning, but the opportunity fell into my lap when I overhead a girl in my econ class talking about an upcoming poetry slam at the student union.I barely made it through the first set without losing it.When the student organizer standing in the corner of the café noticed my muffled laughter, she gave me the stink eye and I took it as my cue to leave.
It wasn’t until the fifth day of my suspension that I succeeded in finding something that stuck.In addition to the fact that it didn’t require an innate set of skills, cooking could be done in solitude, within the comfort of my own home.I was terrible at first, often resorting to calling my mother in a panic when something didn’t turn out or YouTube couldn’t help me.It was hard to keep up with once I returned to the rink, but I dedicated my free evenings to trying new recipes.With each passing day, I grew more confident, and things felt a little less tense with Bryce and my other roommates once I started feeding them on a regular basis.
One night, after scouring a baking website that my mother had recommended, I came across a recipe that hurtled me into a memory from sophomore year.Kate and I were at the beginning stage of our relationship, tucked into a corner booth in the back of Coaler Café.It was late, we were up cramming for Monday exams, and the dim lighting was making it hard to keep our eyes open when Kate’s stomach let out a low grumble loud enough to startle me out of a doze.“Eat something,” I said, “or the owner is going to kick us out for a noise complaint.”Eventually, Kate agreed, and after scouring the menu she decided to order a sweet from the bakery display at the bar.I’d never forget the look onher face at that first bite of pastry, like she was tasting a little bit of lemon bar heaven.
I got to work on the recipe immediately, realizing the sign for what it was: a push to find closure in my past relationship.How could I ever move forward with Grace when I hadn’t owned up to the mistakes I’d made with Kate?At the very least, she deserved an apology for how I’d treated her.That afternoon, I made several batches of lemon bars until one came out looking exactly the recipe online.The kitchen smelled amazing, and I was tempted to steal one for myself.
The sun was playing hide-and-seek when I set off to find Kate.Beams of yellow light flashed in and out of existence as the scattering of clouds overhead shifted with the wind.March in Wisconsin was like a girl in a shoe store—it didn’t know how to make up its mind.Today, the air was brisk, but the warmth of the sun was enough to chase off some of the cold.We’d finally reached that awkward transition between winter and spring.The grounds were covered in half-melted snowbanks and patches of soggy brown grass with puddles the size of small ponds cropping up along the sidewalks where the cement dipped.
Kate wasn’t difficult to locate.We still shared each other’s locations.I wasn’t sure why—maybe she wanted to know where I was so she could avoid running into me—but I hadn’t even thought to change my settings after we broke up.I took up a post outside of Kenworth Hall and waited.Twenty minutes later, students began pouring out of the building.When Kate emerged, my grip tightened around the container of lemon bars.
Seeing her for the first time in several months stirred up a lot of emotions within me, though none were as visceral as the guilt gnawing at my insides.She looked every bit the Kate Iremembered, but there was something different in the way she held herself.Our eyes met, and without hesitation, she crossed the courtyard in my direction.As she grew closer, I felt myself tense in anticipation, my mind wandering back to the last time we spoke.The more I thought about it, the more I realized how wrong I’d been for letting things end that way.She might have pulled the plug, but it had been my own careless actions that had doomed our relationship.
“Hello, Kate.”
“Such a formal greeting,” she said tersely, coming to a stop in front of me and crossing her arms over her chest.“To what do I owe the immeasurable pleasure of seeing my ex?”
“I came to give you lemon bars.”I held out the container of carefully baked pastries, watching as confusion swirled in her eyes.“And I came to say that you were right.”
One eyebrow arched.“Feel free to elaborate.”
“After the accident, I changed, and I blamed you for the injury, even though I knew it was wrong.I was so focused on myself that I couldn’t see how much I was hurting you.I’m sorry.”
“I was in love with you, and stupidly hopeful that things would get better.That’s why I held on for so long.Why did you?”I couldn’t help but notice the crack in her voice as she spoke, the way her expression softened at the mention of loving me.
“I didn’t want to lose you, and I didn’t want to break your heart, not after everything you’d sacrificed for me.”
“You stayed with me out of guilt?”
I couldn’t lie to her, not anymore.“Partly, yes, but I also kept hoping that things would get better.”
Kate steadied herself at my words, her shoulders straightening as the confidence crept back into her body.I knew thatnothing I said could make up for how I’d treated her, or the way things had ended, but I wanted her to know I regretted it.
“You’re going to find someone who’s willing to put you first.I’m truly sorry that couldn’t be me.”
“I think I already did,” she said, the corner of her lip curving into a blissful smile.
Kate glanced over her shoulder, and that was when I realized someone was waiting for her across the courtyard.There was a woman leaning against the side of Kenworth Hall, one foot kicked back against the ivy-covered stones.She wore an oversized leather jacket and a bold red dress that I knew belonged to Kate.Our eyes met.Her expression was clear, even from more than fifty feet away.Don’t try anything stupid, pretty boy, it screamed.
“You’ve definitely upgraded,” I said, and an unexpected burst of laughter spilled from Kate, who took a step closer and reached for the lemon bars.
“I’d suggest the whole grand gesture thing,” she said, and for a moment, I was utterly lost as to what she meant.Then it clicked.
“You still talk to Bryce, don’t you?”
Her smile was answer enough.“You were the one I dumped, not him.”
Kate gave me a nod goodbye before she headed back across the courtyard.She said something that made the girl in the red dress laugh, and I watched them walk hand-in-hand until they disappeared into the dining hall.The slightest bit of pressure eased from my chest.
“She’s right, you know.”
I whirled around, and there was Lydia, perched on a wooden bench no more than ten feet away from me.I’d seen her around campus here and there, but like all the other playerson the women’s team, she’d been dutifully keeping her distance.Slowly, I approached the bench and sat down beside her, my eyes falling over the sketchpad in her lap.She didn’t look up.A rush of wind pulled at the edges of her paper, and a few strands of loose hair whipped around her head.I studied her hands as she worked—one made precise sweeping motions with a short piece of charcoal while the other rubbed at the paper to blur the lines of her drawing.The clouds shifted, a stream of sunshine breaking free and bathing the bench in warmth.
“Right about what?”
