Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty - Five
Dave
T he minute I told Zara I had to leave, everything began to feel wrong .
She was a trooper, though. My Zara put her game face on and did what needed doing. I fell a little more in love with her as she straightened her spine against yet another disappointment and followed me in her crappy little car to the cabin .
We made quick work of packing the place up. There wasn’t much food in the kitchen because I’d been spending so much time with her. “What about the keys?” Zara asked. “Can you just leave them here on the counter ?”
“Sure can,” I said. “Place looks fine, right? We’re done .”
She gave me a sad smile. “We are. Let’s get you some sleep. You’re going to be driving in just a few hours .”
“Sleep is overrated,” I said, catching her around the waist. But my smile felt fake, and there was an unfamiliar tightness in my chest. “God, I hate this,” I said suddenly. “I hate leaving you. Both of you .”
Zara’s stalwart expression slipped. “I know,” she said softly. “It sucks .”
Then she kissed me to shut me up, and it totally worked .
* * *
W e lay a long time in the dark together after making love. I couldn’t sleep until I felt Zara drift off. And then I slept the anxious slumber of someone who knows his alarm clock is going to go off way too early .
And then it did. I lay there groggily, trying to summon the will to sit up. And I thought back to the last time I’d left Zara on my way back to New York—when I’d slept in her bed uninvited. “You’ll say goodbye to me this time, right?” I rasped .
“Yes. I promise,” she said into her pillow .
I trailed my palm over her hair, then her long neck, and then onward down the silky skin of her naked back .
How did people do this ?
She reached out and gave me a shove. “Take your shower, honey. Push the button on the coffee pot. Go on .”
I went .
Thirty minutes later I was behind the wheel of my car, driving slowly out of Green Rocks on a gravel road, startling a doe and her fawn in the pre-dawn gloom. There was very little traffic in Vermont at any hour. So as I made my way to Interstate 91 before five a.m., I felt like the last man alive. On the highway there was nobody but the occasional big rig and me .
I drove all those hours thinking about Zara and Nicole. The goodbye kiss I’d finally gotten. Zara’s hug—a tight one, like maybe she didn’t expect to ever get another—and her words of endearment in my ear. “I’ll miss you,” she’d whispered. “We both will. Take care of yourself for us .”
Those words cut me. Having her and Nicole was a gift, and I wasn’t sure I deserved them. I was committed to doing right by them, but it was really hard to picture how the next three years were going to work .
Would she really wait for me? If I were her, I don’t know if I would .
I got to New York in time to turn in my rental car and eat a late breakfast in a midtown diner. My only companion was my giant duffel bag, sitting across from me in the booth .
Afterward, as I walked toward the specialist’s office, the traffic noise was startling to me. I’d forgotten how loud it was here—something I never used to notice .
The specialist took me back into her exam room right away, where she took a series of images with some of her cutting-edge equipment, then proceeded to prod my shoulder for a while, chatting away with a medical student who was observing that day .
“And you’ve been doing PT all summer?” the doc asked .
“I sure have .”
Then she disappeared .
While I sat waiting, I checked my phone. Zara had sent me a photo of Nicole in her clip-on high chair, smiling up at the camera with yogurt on her face. The text read, Guess who finally said MAMA ?
I laughed out loud. That’s when I realized I’d been waiting kind of a long time for the doctor to review my data. Maybe the news wasn’t good. If they sent me back for another ten weeks of therapy …
That idea would have made me vomit at any other point in my career. But the first idea that popped into my head was that I could spend more time with Zara if I wasn’t going to play at training camp .
The door popped open and the doctor walked in. “Congratulations, Dave! Good work on your shoulder. I see no reason why you can’t get back on the ice .”
She held out her hand to shake, and I took it reluctantly. “Really? That’s it? Am I doing more PT ?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I mean—if you suddenly develop any more pain, make sure you report it. But the joint is nicely mobile, and the tendons seem strong. Well done .”
“ Thank you .”
And that was that. I walked out of there feeling a little numb, probably from lack of sleep. This was the good news I’d been waiting for .
In the elevator I texted Bess. Then I stuck my phone in my pocket and went out into the noise of Manhattan. There was a subway stop a few blocks from the doctor’s office, and I headed in that direction. But when I got to the turnstile, it wouldn’t let me through .
Card expired , the machine complained .
Well, fuck. That was just the kind of welcome home that New York dished out .
Both MetroCard terminals were spoken for, so I waited, wishing I’d taken a Lyft instead. Although sitting in bridge traffic to Brooklyn would probably take even longer .
Not that I had anything to hurry home to .
“Hey! Aren’t you Dave Beringer ?”
I swiveled carefully to avoid knocking anyone with my bag, and found a teenager in a backward baseball cap—a Bruisers cap—grinning at me. “Sure am,” I said after a beat .
“How’s the shoulder?” the kid asked .
I laughed. “It’s actually fine. I’ll be at practice this weekend, if you’re taking attendance .”
“Autograph?” the kid asked, whipping off his hat to offer me the brim. There were a few scrawls on it already. This guy must be a superfan, because he’d already cornered a couple of my teammates .
“Sure.” I patted my pockets, but came up empty. “Dude, I’m sorry. No pen .”
His face fell. “I don’t have one either .”
“Here.” I grabbed one of my cards out of my money clip. “Email this address and use the name Bess, okay? That’s my sister. Her assistant answers my email. Tell Bess I wanted to send a puck to the guy I met in the subway .”
He took the card, his face brightening. “Thanks, man! Can’t wait to see you make it to the finals again this year! And it’s, uh, your turn .”
I whirled to find that it was indeed my turn to buy a new Metrocard, and that the growing line of people behind us was starting to get twitchy .
Right .
I tapped the screen and speedily bought a new card. Then I wished the teen luck and headed for the platform .
* * *
W hen I got home to Brooklyn’s DUMBO neighborhood, the doorman greeted me with a shout of happiness. “Dude! Where you been? Good summer?” He grabbed my big duffel bag and put it on the luggage trolley, and I was happy to hand it over .
“Great summer,” I said, high-fiving him. “What’s happening here, Miguel ?”
He made a face. “Same old nothing. You go anywhere interesting ?”
“Vermont,” I said. “Love it up there .”
“Never been,” he said. “No golf this summer ?”
“No, thank God .”
He laughed. “Got more luggage ?”
I shook my head. “ That’s it .”
“For seven weeks?” my doorman looked surprised .
“I travel light .”
Miguel grinned. “A single guy like you? I guess you can get away with it. I’ll send this up right away .”
“ Thanks , man .”
Another elevator ride brought me to the carpeted hallway of my floor. I lived in a converted warehouse, with high ceilings and pre-war fixtures everywhere. When I turned my key and opened the door, I had to squint against all the sunlight. There were floor-to-ceiling windows, wooden floors, and exposed brick walls .
I loved this place. But it was awfully quiet and empty. I toed off my shoes and took a tour. The cleaning service had been here to dust and air things out earlier in the week. So my apartment was clean and fresh-smelling. When I peeked in the refrigerator, I found that it had been restocked. Eggs, fruit, and yogurt. The freezer held chicken and fish. The cabinet was full of protein bars and crackers .
Everything an athlete needed to feed his body. If not his soul .
My footsteps were audible in the silence as I paced into my bedroom. The bed was perfectly made. I pulled out my phone and sat on the edge of the bed. Made it home , I texted to Zara. Doctor cleared me to play .
There was no activity on her end. No message in progress. She was probably working. There was nowhere I needed to be until the day after tomorrow .
I texted Doulie next. Bar burgers later, and baseball ?
No can do , he wrote back. Taking Ari out to dinner before the madness begins .
Right .
Cleared to play, BTW , I told him .
Awesome! See you on the ice .
I stood up and turned around, trying to picture Zara in my bed as I stripped off my shorts. Now there was a pleasant fantasy. I grabbed a pair of athletic shorts and pulled them on. It was time for a workout. I needed to beat some of the stupid out of me and focus on the season ahead .
My apartment had two bedrooms, but the second one was full of exercise equipment, also dust free thanks to my cleaning service. I opened a window blind to let in the August sunshine and then set up the leg press for a warmup .
I sat on the bench and began to press the iron in slow, rhythmic bursts. After the first set, I glanced around the room, taking in the amount of space. There was plenty of it. I could sell my gym equipment and give the room to Nicole. These weights weren’t very useful to me in season, when I spent much of my day at the practice facility, anyway .
Christ . This building had a weight room, and I’d never set foot inside it. I didn’t need this space all to myself .
As I began the second set, reality kicked in. It didn’t matter if I had room for Zara and Nicole to join me in Brooklyn. Zara didn’t like the city. And even if she did, I’d just bought her a house that was nicer than this space, with the backyard she’d said she wanted her child to have .
I tried to ignore the voice in my head, the one that said, If she loved you, it wouldn’t matter. She’d be here right now .
No, wait. That was just my past talking .
Funny how I could never hear the difference before now. But my childhood had always been there—fucking up my expectations. Telling me I was a loner for life, a guy that nobody would ever want .
Zara did love me. She was cagey as hell, but I could taste it whenever she kissed me—the same hunger I felt , too .
I was just going to have to wait her out. And play some damned fine hockey while I waited .