Page 24 of Canadian Boyfriend

“Why don’t we talk more about this idea of quitting once you’ve actually played, are home, and can assess how things went, both for you and for Olivia?”

I sighed, and it felt good. Sometimes talking to Dr. Mursal made me sigh in a satisfying way, as if I’d been flitting along over the surface of my life like a kite over the lake on a windy day, but then I’d suddenly fall back into my body. It was a bit painful to land like that, but the relief outweighed the pain. “Dr. Mursal, are you saying I shouldn’t make a grand pronouncement about my plan for the future failing when I’m only five minutes into that plan?”

“That is what I’m saying.” We’d been at this long enough that I could recognize her I’m-trying-not-to-smile face. I didn’t see it often, but it was gratifying when I did.

I glanced at the time—we only had a couple of minutes left. “How’s Olivia doing? Did she seem OK today?” She’d had a lunchtime appointment that Lauren had taken her to.

“You know I can’t answer that.”

That was another thing I liked about Dr. Mursal. She was scrupulous about patient confidentiality. Well, Ididn’tlike it, but I did.

“I hope your game goes well,” she said. “What do you say in hockey? Break a leg?”

I grinned. “Yeah, maybe not that, but thanks.”

Dr. Mursal couldn’t tell me how Olivia was doing, but Aurora could, and she did the next evening. I read her texts in the locker room after the game.

Aurora:All fine here. We went for ice cream. Olivia says she doesn’t have homework. I pressed a little on the reading responses you talked about, but she says she did it at school. Now we’re watching Fuller House.

The bit about being done with the reading response was almost certainly a lie, but I didn’t expect Aurora to be a human lie detector.

Aurora:Also, I’m really sorry, but I broke one of your glasses—one of the short blue ones. Can you let me know where you got them and I’ll replace it?

Ah, my no-lying outburst had her confessing this minor-league shit. I felt bad about that.

There was a third and final text time-stamped an hour later:

Aurora:I’m back at my place now. Lauren came to get Olivia, and they were going to pick up pizza. I think our first night together was a success!

I waited until I was back in my hotel room to reply.

Mike:Thanks for the info. Glad all is well. Don’t worry about the glasses.

I wanted to ask so many questions.Did Olivia ask about me? Did she seem like she missed me? Or was blind with rage at me?

But I needed to takeeverything’s finefor an answer.

Mike:Sorry to be so late replying, btw. Your texts came in during the game.

Aurora:Which you lost, I see, according to Google. Bummer.

Mike:Eh, it’s all right.

Aurora:I hope getting back to it was… okay? Fun? Not terrible?

I paused, considering. I’d been consumed with the question of whether to resume my career, but only in terms of its effect on the grief situation: how Olivia would handle my absence, whether going back would occupy me sufficiently to keep me out of the abyss. I hadn’t thought about the game itself today. How it had made me feel.

Mike:You know what? I don’t even know how it was.

Mike:That makes no sense, I realize. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about hockey. Why I play it. What I get from it—besides a salary. But today I kind of zoned out, I guess?

Mike:That sounds dumb. Sorry. It’s only a game. No need to get all philosophical about it.

Aurora:You’re talking to a failed ballerina, so I get it.

Mike:Really?

I was intensely curious about that. I’d wondered how she’d gone from the Newberg Ballet School to teaching tap in suburban Minnesota.

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