Page 55 of Off the Stick
The team is on a three-game winning streak, and it feels fucking great.
Tonight, we played against Pittsburgh on their home turf and whomped them five to two.The first goal was made by me with an assist by the rookie center Lyons, who we’ve nicknamed Simba, our team’s lion cub.
Lyons fought for the puck against a Pittsburgh defender and kicked it out to where I was at the top of the crease.I put my stick down and drove toward the post, flipping the puck right over the shoulder of the goalie.There was nothing he could do as the puck deflected up into the upper right part of the net.
My season is off to a fan-fucking-tastic start, and my stats are fire.There’s a part of me that revels in the knowledge that Halle is seeing these stats in her reports, and I wonder if she thinks of me when my name pops up in her data.
Now that we’re on the long team flight back to Vancouver, I pull out my phone and start a text.It’s a three-hour time difference, so by my estimation, Lenni should have gone to bed by now, hopefully leaving some time for Halle to relax.
Me: Hey Cherry.Did you watch the game tonight?
I see the dots and get a secret thrill.Our exchanges haven’t been much since she’s recovered and hasn’t required my help, and I’ve tried to give her space.But each time we chat, it reminds me of our eighteen-year-old selves.When we were apart, we texted constantly.It was always fun and flirty and left me hard as a rock for her.
Not much has changed there.
Cherry: What game?Don’t know what you’re talking about.
I laugh and Costa, who is next to me and reading a book, cuts me a look.I mouthsorryand return to my phone.
Me: Oh, we’re playing it that way, are we?
Me: You know.The greatest game in the world.The greatest team.And the greatest player.
Cherry: OMG!I didn’t realize Gretzky played tonight.Wow.That’s so cool.He’s such a legend.
Me: Very funny, Cherry.Don’t hurt yourself by cracking yourself up.
Cherry: Nothing funny about the GOAT.
Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah.He’s the GOAT.I get it.But come on, Cherry.Admit it.You know good, eh?
I recline back in my seat and stretch out my legs, crossing my feet at the ankles.It’s never comfortable wearing dress shoes on the plane, so I’ve slipped them off and am only in my socks, wiggling my unrestricted toes.
Cherry: You don’t need me to stroke your ego, hockey boy.
Actually, I do.I care deeply about what Halle thinks about me.Whether she is excited when I score a goal or make an assist, I want to know she’s watching me in action.Her approval of me matters.
Me: You have no idea how hard I’m trying to restrain myself from making an inappropriate and dirty response.You teed it up for a good one.
There’s a pause.I see the dots flash and then disappear.Then again.And again.I may have made a mistake directing the conversation into something sexual.
Fuck.I crossed a line I shouldn’t have.My body deflates and I slam my eyes shut, pressing my head against the airline seat.Then I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, and my entire body vibrates with urgency to read her reply.
Cherry: Oh, you mean, stroke your dick?
Cherry: In your dreams, hockey boy.
Oh shit, she went there.I smile so broadly that when Canners walks by from his trip to the bathroom, he levels me a strange look.
I read the texts again.That’s my girl.Sweet, sexy and sassy.
And yeah, I know she’s not mine.But the more I deny it, the more it feels like a lie trapped on my tongue.I’ve tried to be mature about this and do the right thing by keeping my distance, but the more I do, the less satisfied I feel.
There’s something missing in my life when Halle isn’t in it.
Me: You said it, not me.I think it’s your dream, Cherry.
Cherry: Ha!Only those crazy fever dreams I had when I was sick.
