Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
The night before they’re set to meet, David keeps checking his phone, waiting for a text from Robbie saying he’s busy, or something came up. David knows Robbie offered, unsolicited, to give him a tour, so it isn't like David pressured him into it. Even so, he keeps his phone within arm’s reach.
Robbie does text him, but it’s just to ask where David wants to meet up, followed by two thumbs up when David suggests a coffee shop around the corner from the arena. He’s only been once, but it was decent, and he doesn’t know the area well enough to consider an alternative.
He can’t assume Robbie does either, tour guide or not – David would have been hard-pressed to give a tour of his old neighbourhood in New York, beyond, perhaps, the few reliable places for takeout within walking distance of his building, and he lived there. Like the majority of the Capitals, Robbie lives out in Virginia, commuting into Washington for their games. David wouldn’t be surprised if the only things Robbie knows are restaurants and bars, perhaps a few tourist attractions.
Though David supposes it isn’t really a problem if Robbie doesn’t know the area well enough to show him anything beyond the obvious, since David hasn’t had a chance to see anything, the obvious included. He’s been too busy acclimating to his new team to spend his energy on getting to know the city itself, so he probably knows as little as any tourist. Maybe even less.
David skims several lists of the top tourist destinations in Washington so he can get an idea of where Robbie might take him tomorrow. David knows Robbie said he wouldn’t take him to tourist bullshit, but everyone says they won’t, and that’s precisely what they end up doing. And why wouldn’t they? If it’s interesting enough to draw visitors, it’s presumably worth a visit from the locals too.
Unsurprisingly, there are a lot of government buildings on the list, though he hopes Robbie won’t assume he’s interested in seeing those. Cherry blossom trees, but it’s the wrong time of year for it, and Ottawa has those too, if perhaps not as many. He imagines a walking tour or a sightseeing bus would cross the line into tourist bullshit, but museums certainly seem like a possibility, and some of them look interesting.
Though, for all David knows, Robbie’s idea of a tour is simply pointing out the nightlife and the best places to pick up women. He hopes not, but prepares himself for disappointment all the same.
David arrives at the cafe twenty minutes early the next morning, and is soon grateful he did, since it’s the only reason he gets a table, after a tour group follows him in the door.
He considers ordering something for Robbie, but decides it’s better not to order anything at all rather than to order the wrong thing. People take their coffee orders seriously, in David’s experience, get offended if you misjudge their taste. He could have texted him to ask, of course, but if he had, he doubts they’d have anywhere to sit.
He nurses a mug of tea, trying not to meet anyone’s eye, in case they ask to share the table. He’s relieved when Robbie arrives right on schedule, saying a breezy hello and draping his jacket over the chair across from David’s before getting in line. Now that both seats are taken, David allows himself to look around while Robbie waits to order, standing behind the final few members of the tour group.
“That looks good,” David says when Robbie sits across from him with a mug of coffee, a danish of some kind. Unfortunately, Robbie seems to take that as a request to split the pastry, and David’s protests that he already had breakfast don’t do anything to dissuade him.
“This isn’t breakfast,” Robbie says. “It’s a danish. And I got it to share.”
David may not know Robbie very well, but what he does know makes him suspect that Robbie isn’t going to drop this until David gives in.
“You can’t make me eat the whole thing myself,” Robbie says. “Come on, help a guy out.”
It’s raspberry, the danish. David was hoping for cherry, but raspberry is fine.
“So, turns out most of the cool shit isn’t around here, so I’m probably going to be showing you tourist shit after all,” Robbie says, brushing danish crumbs off the table and onto the plate.
“Okay,” David says, unsurprised.
“But we’re not going to the White House,” Robbie says. “Not happening. It’s a mob scene and it draws all the absolute worst people and just – no White House.”
“That’s fine,” David says.
His mother always said it was overrated. Then again, she considers hockey overrated, so perhaps David shouldn’t have simply taken her word for it. Regardless, the only scenario in which the White House might interest him involves being invited as a member of the Stanley Cup-winning team. Going there in any other context would be a comparative disappointment.
“Also full disclosure, the only other time I gave a proper tour of D.C. it was my ma, and she mostly just wanted to know which museums had the coolest shit and where the tastiest snacks were,” Robbie says.
“I’ve heard the museums here are good,” David says. He always told himself he’d check them out when he played the Capitals, but somehow the timing never seemed to work out. Now he really has no excuse.
“Of course you’re a museum man,” Robbie says. David doesn’t know what a ‘museum man’ is, or why Robbie’s so unsurprised at the idea of David being one, but he doubts it’s meant as a compliment.
“We don’t have to go to a museum,” David says.
“No, no,” Robbie says. “You want museums, you’re getting museums. You’ve got the right guide for that; Roberto Lombardi is a man of culture.”
David snorts.
“Hey, fuck you,” Robbie says, though thankfully he doesn’t sound genuinely upset, “I went to college and everything.”
“I assume you were there to play hockey,” David asks.
“I got in on my own merits, if that’s what you’re saying,” Robbie says. “Like, yeah, I did play, but I wasn’t some hot shit NHL prospect or anything. I was there to get a degree.”
“Oh,” David says.
“Yeah,” Robbie says. “Turns out my D-partner was a hot shit prospect, though, and teams start paying attention when you can handle playing first pair minutes with the tenth overall pick. Left college when the Caps signed me, obviously, but I ended up finishing up my degree a couple years ago. Honestly, not sure how – juggling distance courses and pro hockey is such a crock of shit, you don’t even know.”
“Wait,” David says. “You have a degree?”
“The disbelief is extremely insulting,” Robbie says, though he doesn’t sound particularly insulted this time either.
“Sorry,” David says anyway. “What’s your degree in?”
“Economics,” Robbie says, then, “Hey!” at whatever expression must be on David’s face. “What degree do you have?”
“None,” David says. “You’re right.”
“I always am,” Robbie says. “Clearly I don't look like a college boy to you, which makes me kind of curious what exactly you think I look like. I mean, other than the obvious.”
“Like a frat boy?” David says, then immediately fights the urge to clap his hand over his mouth. Thankfully, Robbie just laughs.
“Frat boys are literally college boys, Chaps,” Robbie says. “Like, by definition.”
David does have to concede the point. “Were you one?”
“Nah,” Robbie says. “I had enough going on, between classes and hockey. Not exactly frat boy material either.”
“Well,” David says.
“Could have fooled you, right?” Robbie asks.
“Apparently,” David says, startled when Robbie laughs again, though maybe he shouldn’t be. He’s noticed Robbie laughs a lot.
“I know I said no White House,” Robbie says. “But can I extend that to all the usual government buildings? I know it’s the capital and all, but if you want to check out the Lincoln Memorial or the Washington Monument or whatever, I’m probably not the best guy for it. I don’t mind history shit, but I start tuning out whenever politics gets involved.”
“That’s fine,” David says. “Really. My mother’s – she isn’t a politician, but she works for them, and–”
David trails off, unsure what he wants to say.
“Got enough of politics at home, huh?” Robbie asks.
“Yes,” David says. “Yes, exactly.”
*
David has always found museums fascinating, and from what little he sees of it, the National Museum of Natural History is no exception. Unfortunately, they picked the wrong day to visit. David thought going on a weekday would make it less busy, but he quickly realises that he forgot to take a very important factor into account: field trips.
The museum is absolutely packed with children, and evidently some of those children are Capitals fans. It’s typically David they recognise, but not exclusively, and they come over asking if David’s the ‘real’ David Chapman, if Robbie’s ‘actually Robbie Lombardi’, curious classmates trailing behind them. Most of the kids seem confused as to who exactly they are, but even their small amount of fame seems to be enough to interest them. Unfortunately, the teachers and volunteers do little to dissuade the children. In most cases, they seem just as curious as their charges.
“Probably should have done this on the weekend,” Robbie says, after the fifth time they’re surrounded by school kids clamouring for autographs. The latest group didn’t have any paper on hand, so David and Robbie ended up signing a number of lunch bags and boxes with a Sharpie provided by their very prepared teacher. He hopes none of their parents will be angry with them for returning from their school trip with a vandalised lunch bag.
“Sorry,” David says. “I didn’t know.”
“I’m the tour guide, it’s my bad,” Robbie says. David startles as Robbie takes him by the elbow, but lets him steer him toward the exit. “Maybe it’s time to try the tasty snacks portion of this tour.”
“Lunch?” David asks.
“Or lunch,” Robbie says. “That works too.”
“No, I mean,” David says. “A snack sounds good.”
“Yeah?” Robbie says.
David nods.
*
David thinks it’s a little early in the day to be eating gelato, and it’s certainly a little cold for it, but Robbie seemed so proud when he was introducing the place that David couldn’t do anything but smile then repeat his order, completely overwhelmed by the number of flavours on offer. Thankfully, Robbie didn’t get anything too outlandish; David has always been a little afraid of trying pistachio, but it tastes significantly more tame than it looks.
“Matty loves this place,” Robbie says. “We always come here after matinee games.”
There aren’t any Matts on the team, so Matty must refer to Elliott Matthews, their second line centre.
“Always gets something different, but I’m a simple man,” Robbie says. “They have pistachio, I get pistachio.”
“It’s really good,” David says.
“Craney always gets their featured sorbet,” Robbie says. “Apparently it’s great, but like I said, I’m a simple man.”
That nickname is one David has no trouble recognising. David knew Devon Crane’s name before he joined the team, but he’s sure he would know it by now even if he hadn’t – Crane’s the most talented goaltender David has ever played with.
“Oh, and just so you know, Wheels warned me off the chocolate,” Robbie says. “You’d assume it’d be a safe choice, but apparently it’s like – gritty.”
“Wheels?” David asks, suddenly grateful he opted to go with Robbie’s order.
“Dougie Whelan,” Robbie says. “My D-partner.”
“Oh,” David says. “Right. Do the Capitals come here on team outings or something?”
“Huh?” Robbie says. “Oh. Nah, it’s just the best gelato in town.”
“Any other flavour recommendations?” David asks.
It turns out Robbie has plenty of them, parroting the reviews of most of the roster. It’s unsurprising he knows the whole team, given he’s played with the Capitals his entire career, but David is surprised by the way he seems to remember everyone’s order, the way he speaks of everyone as though they’re a close, personal friend.
David wonders if Robbie would do the same for him, refer to him offhand – ‘my buddy Chaps always gets pistachio, same as me’ – even though they hardly know one another.
That’s much more believable than Robbie actually being friends with the entire roster. Obviously, David knows people can be close to their teammates – he’s pretty sure training with Oleg during the offseasons and following him to Washington could be described as ‘close’ – but that certainly doesn’t mean they’re close to everyone. Nobody on the Islanders got along with everyone, even Oleg. Washington does seem different, but even so, David’s sceptical.
After they finish their gelato, they stroll downtown, Robbie pointing out places as they walk – a sandwich place he recommends, a sushi place he doesn’t, a bar he says is always full of politicians.
“And yes,” Robbie says. “It’s exactly as obnoxious an experience as that implies.”
David smiles. “I’ll avoid it.”
“I’m kind of failing as a tour guide, here,” Robbie says. “I’d suggest heading over to the National Mall, but it’s windy as shit today, so maybe not.”
David’s been trying and failing to tame his windblown hair since they left the gelato place, so he has to agree.
“Not the right time of year for the cherry blossoms either,” Robbie says. “But they’re pretty nice. Like, I’m no flower dude – or tree dude, I guess – but they’re a pretty cool thing to check out.”
“We have them in Ottawa too,” David says. “You’re right. They’re nice.”
“Well fuck, now I got nothing,” Robbie says.
“Well,” David says. “It isn’t cherry blossom season, like you said, so you didn’t have anything before, either.”
Robbie laughs. “You’re going to give a man a complex, Chaps.”
“I think you’re doing fine,” David says. Though admittedly, he doesn’t know much more about Washington than he did yesterday, except that it’s better to go to the museums on weekends, and frankly that seems like something he should have figured out already.
Robbie waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s get some lunch. I may not know shit about attractions, but at least I know all the good restaurants around the arena. You have any preferences?”
“Anything, as long as it’s healthy,” David says.
“So pretty much nothing, is what you’re saying,” Robbie says, then puts a hand up when David opens his mouth. “No worries, no worries, I know a place.”
David’s already been to the restaurant Robbie takes him to, but he decides not to tell him that. He remembers it being good, and it’s small plates, at least, so while much of what David eats isn’t particularly healthy in itself, at least they’re all reasonable portions.
Robbie orders half a dozen things, then insists on sharing everything, saying that’s the entire point of the place, so David samples a few items he wouldn’t have ordered himself. Mostly, he’s reminded exactly why he didn’t order it in the first place, but a few things are surprisingly good.
“Not bad, huh?” Robbie says as they walk out the door. There was a minor argument when it came time to pay the bill, but thankfully Robbie conceded when David said it was the least he could do in exchange for the tour.
“It was good,” David agrees.
“Want to try another museum?” Robbie says. “Or is that too risky?”
David hesitates.
“Yeah, I feel you,” Robbie says. “I always forget how tiring playing tourist is. Want to call it a day, try again on a weekend or something?”
“Okay,” David says, unsure if it’s a genuine offer, or just Robbie offering him an out. Either way, he takes it, and they part at the cafe, Robbie to his car, David back to his condo.
It turns out he was free to have dinner with Oleg and Maria after all. He feels bad about it, but the idea of leaving his apartment again today, even for takeout, is exhausting, so maybe it’s for the best. He’d planned on working out after he got home, but that’s out too – there’s a gym in his building, but the idea of being around anyone else right now, even if he doesn’t have to talk to them, feels like too much.
In the end, he spends his remaining energy stretching everywhere that’s particularly tight, then orders delivery from the best-rated restaurant nearby. It isn’t particularly healthy either, but David figures he may as well consider today a write-off.
It wasn’t as productive as David hoped it would be, but even so, he had a nice time. He texts Robbie to let him know that. It’s only polite, he thinks, after Robbie spent the day showing him around, even if David didn’t see very much. He learned he liked pistachio gelato, at least. And to bring a Sharpie along if he stops by a museum on a school day, though he doesn’t think he’ll make that particular mistake again.
You’re so weird Robbie replies, but he accompanies it with a laughing emoji, so David presumes it’s chirping rather than mocking. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference, but Robbie seems like the sort of person who usually lands on the chirping side.
You’re the first person to ever tell me that. David replies.
He gets three laughing faces in response to that, and he isn’t entirely sure, but he thinks that’s pretty good.