CHAPTER 22
LUCY
It had been six weeks since my surgery and I couldn't seem to text him back.
I'd been staring at his texts, all twenty-five of them, over my morning tea before I headed to work.
But I just couldn't make my fingers say anything, no matter how much I wanted to hold him in my arms and kiss his scruffy beard and feel him.
But I just wasn't ready. I'm a fucking asshole for it.
The shop had been buzzing alive since my first hockey chair.
Every day I'd been getting boxes and bags full of old sticks that were never thrown out.
Meant to be hidden in the garage as a memory, to be brought out when the grandchildren come over, to show your love what you use to be able to do.
A testament to love of the game. They were sent in so I could turn them into something.
Something that they could snuggle down in for all their memories to flow out of them again.
These people didn't want to hide their love for hockey away. They wanted to show it off and remember all it gave them.
I wish I could say the same. I was still so torn and I knew that not texting Sasha back was cruel. I just needed more time. I wasn't ready to have my privacy being ripped away. I wasn't ready to give up what I loved for hockey, even if it was for the man I loved.
My life was amazing. My family was by my side.
I got to play tea party with dolls with their heads ripped off with my nieces, have lunch with my mom and sister and I got to watch Paulie play.
I got to create furniture that I love, the smell of the wood and the feel of the vibrating saw on my fingers.
I went home and cooked whatever I wanted and watched all my shows without anyone giving me a suggestion.
I loved being a lone wolf, hell, I excelled at being a lone wolf. But was it enough? I would like to tell myself yes, but every time I made something I was proud of, every time I cheered for Paulie, I wanted to tell him. To kiss him good morning, to fuck him goodnight.
He was skating so well without me. It felt cruel to disrupt that, the Pucks were in the playoffs and doing great. If I told him how I was feeling, I know it would mess him up.
Another text startled me as I was opening the shop. Two more boxes of old sticks waited for me on my doorstep that I would have to bribe Paulie to help me lift, as I still wasn't able to raise more than twenty-five pounds alone.
“Work up to it.” Dr Lynn told me as she cleared me for work, after she chastised me for working because she follows me on Instagram.
“Oops.” I sheepishly smiled and explained that I lifted nothing and felt no strain what so ever when I made the chairs.
I didn't tell her I was basically using Paulie as child labor as he helped me assemble backs to bottoms and did all the bending. Lucky, I sold them for a decent amount or I would have lost profit on child labor costs.
“And you are cleared for sex. Just don't get pregnant for a year so your uterus is fully healed.”
I blushed at the thought.
I was still blushing at the thought as I pulled my phone from my pocket. Of course it was him.
Sasha: I'm sorry I drunk texted. Are you there? Are you OK? Please text me back. I did what you asked. I waited for you.
I felt like I was going to puke.
◆◆◆
“What are you doing to this poor guy, Lucy?”
I rolled my eyes. It was inevitable that my sister would get involved.
“What are you talking about?” I was getting a chair ready for delivery all the way down in the city. A special request, as I usually don't deliver. I needed to get out of town. I needed to drive and listen to the radio and get some Brooklyn pizza.
“Sasha texted me yesterday, begging me to tell him if you were OK, if you were ever going to talk to him again. And then he showed up at my house this morning!”
“What!” I screamed. Startling myself so badly I clutched my chest.
“Yes! I literally saw you get into your car as his back was turned towards you and you didn't even notice a man was on my front porch!”
I sat on the chair I just placed onto the pallet. It had been a week without me texting him and he finally slowed down. There were grand gestures and poems typed out but this morning I simply got “I love you”. Which made me cry and then get pissed and throw my phone.
“He showed up to your house?”
“Yes, dipshit. Why doesn't he even know where you live?”
“That's the problem, isn't it? It was always about him, about hockey.” I put my face in my hands.
“OK, OK” Sarah rubbed my shoulders. “You don't have to tell me anything. Just do what you need to do, OK? You do what you feel is right and I won't say shit.”
“To my face.”
She snorted. “Yes Lucifer, just behind your back.”
◆◆◆
Brooklyn was much nicer to drive in when you didn't have a delivery truck. Streets made for horse and buggy just were not wide enough for modern day wheels. And I wasn't patient enough to keep pulling over and take the long way around.
Only the patron saint of small businesses knew how I got an on-street parking spot without having to double park.
Sure, it was around the corner from the customers brownstone apartment.
I had to walk past a pizza place, a brewery and a few homeless guys to get there, but my work dolly made it quick.
I pushed the buzzer to be let into the apartment, holding on for dear life so the cart didn't take the shrinkwrapped chair and me with it down the stairs. I buzzed again when there was no response then checked my phone to make sure I had the right address.
“Yup, this is it. Open up people. I'm fucking hungry.” I mumbled.
Just then, the door swung open. A middle-aged blond woman, short with very pretty blue eyes stared at me. Not a smile, just started.
“Is this my chair delivery? I expected you twenty minutes ago.”
“Uh.” She caught me off guard. It was only twenty minutes. “Sorry, couldn't find parking.” I grit through my teeth.
“Yes, well, bring it in.” I followed her into the beautiful brownstone lobby, taking in how the owner still kept the stone architecture. Praying that she didn't live on the second floor. It smelled like cookies and cigarettes.
“I'm on the second floor.” She started walking up.
I rolled my eyes into the back of my head. Thankful I bought the work dolly, regretting denying Paulie's help with the delivery and hating myself that I didn't ask if she lived on the stupid second floor.
“OK.” I smiled as I started to count steps.
I made visual assessments to make sure the chair and the narrow pallet I put it on would make it up the stairs. But it wouldn't. The chair would fit, the pallet was too wide.
“I'm going to have to unwrap it down here, the pallet won't fit up the stairs. I might just have to carry it.” I cringed a bit.
What was I thinking? Oh, I know. I wasn't thinking I just had a major surgery and I wanted pizza. I'm an idiot.
“Can you?” She looked at me up and down assessing my physical appearance.
She was kind of a bitch and I was regretting this delivery.
“Yes, Ma'am. I assure you I can carry it.” I smiled again.
“No, you can't. I'll go get my boy.” She raced up the stairs before I could stop her.
Her boy, great. I was about to get shown up by some fifteen-year-old with peach fuzz and a cracked voice.
I took out my pallet knife and started cutting away the wrapping.
I piled it up in a corner and took the chair itself off.
I ran my fingers over the sticks and smelled the old wood.
Sasha was right, I loved the smell of an old hockey stick.
I loved the way the sticks felt under my fingertips.
I could feel their connection to the ice.
“I should have known you didn't ask me over for lunch, Matka. Always making me work.”
“Oh, shut up and help the woman.”
A familiar voice pulled my attention to the top of the stairs.
My heart bottomed out of my body.
We locked eyes.
It was Sasha.
“You?” He stopped mid stair, his hand clutching his chest.
“You!” I screeched. I should have ran to him, thrown myself to him. But I was so pissed. “You did this just to get me to talk to you? I need more time!” Tears were rolling down my eyes and I turned quickly and fumbled with the lock on the door.
I was fleeing.
“What is going on here?” His mother called out.
His fucking mother.
His feet crashed down the stairs then his arms wrapped around my body.
“No.” I whimpered out. Oh, he smelled so good, I just wanted to crumble into his embrace.
“What is going on here!” She shouted louder.
Sasha turned and quickly rolled off words in what I assumed were Slovak. But they were angry words.
I spun in his arms and pushed him away.
“Don't you yell at your fucking mother!” I pointed a finger at him. Rage burning in my eyes along with tears.
At first he was shocked, but the smile that crept to his eyes only made it worse.
“I wasn't.” He shook his head.
The entry way fell silent. I couldn't move with shock.
“He wasn't, dear.” Her voice was soft.
She had softened once she understood what was going on. She softened once she knew who I was. He must have told her about us. She must know how awful I am.
“I didn't know you were that Lucy. I just wanted to make him a chair with his old hockey sticks.” She stayed on the stairs, almost retreating.
Sasha fell to his knees, wrapping his strong arm around the back of my waist. His face level with my stomach. His fingers grazing where he thought my scar would be.
It took my breath away.
“Just tell me your OK.” He whispered.
“I'm OK.” I whimpered.
“You don't love me anymore?” His shoulders slumped, his arms pulling me in so close.
But I pushed him away. “I can't do this right now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I need more time.” I turned and ran out the door.
◆◆◆
Never did I ever expect that was going to happen. Never did I ever expect to feel such fear when I saw the man I love. Never did I ever expect him to be so broken at the sight of me.
I was a terrible person. That proved it.
I just couldn't face the reality of what my mind and my heart were fighting over.
The past six weeks were a blissful bubble where I didn't have to choose between the man I loved and the life I loved.
But that bubble burst as soon as I saw him.
Time was up even if I begged him for more of it.
Paulie was waiting on the shop steps when I returned home. The dolly and moving pallet were left in Brooklyn and I cursed myself for being such a coward.
“Hey, little buddy. Ready for pizza?” I was going to bring him back Brooklyn pizza, he would have to settle for Lilo's around the corner.
“You look like you've been crying. Have you been crying, Lulu?”
Sweet, sweet little boy. He didn't miss a thing.
“I'm just hungry. It's been a long drive.” I pulled him into a hug and messed up his hair. “I love you so much, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Pizza was a cure all for many things. But no matter how many slices I shoved into my face I still couldn't get over what had happened. Sasha, he was there.
Was it fate? Or was it just bad timing?
My mind was swimming with the way he fell to his knees, the way his hands felt on my body.
A screeching rip brought me back to reality. Paulie was wrapping his hockey stick on my work bench, his face pensive, concentrating. He wanted to get it perfect.
“You look like your grandpa right now.” I laughed at the blaze that shot through his eyes when one of the wraps had a little ripple.
“I have a game tomorrow morning early to make up because of that storm early in the season. Are you coming?” He didn't look up at me, just continued to wrap.
I stood up and went to him to get a better look. I always loved watching my father prep his hockey stick. He never played on a team when he was alive, but he thought he was every night out on the pond.
“Of course, wouldn't miss it. Since when do you use white and red tape? I thought you were strictly black, like your soul.” I giggled at the memory of him telling me that exact reason.
“Because of Sarge.”
My stomach dropped again. But this time it was filled with greasy pepperoni and I got the sudden urge to hurl into a trash can.
Did Sasha wrap his stick to look like a candy cane? My heart couldn't take it.
“Shit, sorry Lulu. Mom told me I wasn't supposed to talk about him in front of you.” His little face blushed.
“It's OK, babe.” I tossed his hair.
The work room got quiet again. Only the sound of my heart beating.
“Do you miss him?” Paulie was just about done with his wrapping.
Oh, how was I going to explain it to my nephew when I couldn't even explain it all to myself?
“It's complicated.” I took my hair out of the clip and started itching at my scalp. My whole body felt like it was on fire.
“That sounds like a dumb answer.”
“Paulie!”
He threw his stick on my work bench. He was angry. He was angry at me and I was devastated. The way the sound ricocheted stole my breath.
"Well, it does! If Grandpa was alive for one more day, wouldn't you want to see him? I would have given anything just to meet him! To talk to him about hockey.”
“Of course, but it's not that simple.”
“Well, Sarge is alive today, but who knows about tomorrow. So, stop being a jerk about it. That's what Mom says anyway.” He was breathing heavy, like he had all those words stuck in his chest and he finally coughed them all out.
“She told you that?”
“No, I can hear them talk through the vent in my room. I can hear all the stuff they do.” He looked off to the side with a cringe.
“Eww.”
“Yeah.”