Chapter 17
Seventeen
Mitch: You left your sweater in my car.
Alex: Which one?
Mitch: The blue hoodie. It’s mine forever now. You also left your last bag of ketchup chips.
Alex: Damn. I was wondering where that was. All yours, I guess.
Mitch: Ew. No. They’re already in the garbage.
Alex: That’s no way to treat ketchup chips. You’re cut off forever!
Mitch: Fine by me. They’re truly the worst things I’ve ever eaten.
Alex: They’re an acquired taste.
Mitch: If by acquired you mean tastes like BBQ’d feet, then yes, I agree.
* * *
Alex: Happy birthday :)
Mitch: How’d you know?
Alex: Cody texted me. Question is, why didn’t you?
Mitch: Meh. It’s not a big deal for me. Just another day.
Alex: Mitch.
Mitch: Is it weird that I can totally hear your Mitch-I-am-annoyed-and-exasperated-yet-charmed-by-you tone even through text?
Alex: No. Because I can hear your just-another-day-but-really-I’m-kinda-sad-nobody-makes-a-big-deal-out-of-it tone through text.
Mitch: Cody makes a big deal out of it. And my dad.
Alex: Sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate with you.
Mitch: No big. I’ll see you in two weeks anyway! Hey, when’s your birthday?
Mitch: Never mind. Found it.
Alex: Did you Google me?
Mitch: September 12.
Alex: Stop that. It’s weird.
Mitch: :)
* * *
Alex: Talk nerdy to me.
Mitch: What, now? It’s almost midnight. Why are you awake?
Alex: Can’t sleep. I spent all day working on the book and now my thoughts won’t settle.
Mitch: How’d you know I’d still be awake?
Alex: You’re always awake. Do you ever sleep? Never mind, don’t answer that. I already know you don’t.
Mitch: I sleep.
Alex: More than four hours a night?
Mitch: …I’m busy.
Alex: Don’t think I won’t sic my mom on you if you don’t start taking care of yourself.
Mitch: I take care of myself.
Alex: Not according to Cody.
Mitch: Cody’s a snitch and we’re no longer friends.
* * *
Mitch: I saw Forest after my shift today. First time since before the holidays.
Alex: How was he? Better than the last time you saw him?
Mitch: Alex…
Alex: Shit, what?
Mitch: He has pneumonia.
* * *
Instead of visiting Mitch the last weekend in January, when Tampa had no scheduled games and Mitch only had one on Friday evening, Alex arrived a week early so he could be there in case his grandpa got worse.
Thankfully, Forest had started getting better before Alex even landed in Vermont, but Mitch had a feeling Alex wouldn’t take the doctor at his word until he’d seen Forest for himself.
“I’m sorry I won’t be at your game tonight,” Alex said over the phone. He sounded exhausted, his voice like gravel.
Mitch stuck his phone between his shoulder and his ear and threw fruit into the blender. “Don’t apologize. There’ll be other hockey games. Your grandpa…”
Alex’s sigh was heavy, loaded with grief. “Won’t be around forever.”
Mitch abandoned his smoothie and rested his forehead against the cabinet. “I’m sorry, Alex. You’re at the hospital now? Have you seen him?”
“Yeah, he’s…pretty unaware of his surroundings. He called me Alex when I got here—” Alex’s voice wobbled. “—but then he got confused and I was Judd again. Now he’s unresponsive, and…”
“Fuck this. I’m coming over there.”
“No,” Alex said, and he chuckled, but it was sad. “No, you’re going to play, Mitch, okay? I’m going to put your game on here, and hopefully it’ll jar something in Grandpa. Text me when you get home after your game and I’ll come over.”
“You’re still staying with me, right?”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Alex whispered.
“Alex…” I love you.
“Did you eat?”
Mitch turned his back on his half-made smoothie, as if Alex could see his so-called dinner through the phone. “Yeah.”
“Good.” It was a testament to the mood Alex was in that he didn’t catch Mitch in the lie. “You should probably leave now so you’re not late. I’ll see you on the ice.”
Mitch finished making his smoothie and got ready to leave for the game, but he wasn’t happy about it. As much as he loved hockey, he’d rather be with his boyfriend right now.
The Mountaineers were playing against Merrimack who, so far this semester, had a much better track record than GH, who’d lost their first four games and then barely eked out wins in their last two.
For some reason, the team had lost its cohesiveness after returning from the Christmas break.
Even Alex noticed, though he hadn’t been able to watch as many of Mitch’s games on TV since he’d been back on Tampa’s roster.
Coach Spinney had taken Mitch and a couple other guys aside after they lost their third game in a row to let them know that he was proud of them for keeping their game playing top notch and hanging on to their mojo.
(He used the word “mojo.” Mitch had never been more delighted with him.)
Nonetheless, the success of a team couldn’t be carried on the backs of three men alone, so now the team had an additional morning of practice on Tuesdays for the foreseeable future. Given that they’d won their last two games, the strategy seemed to be working.
Yano scored twice in the first period, giving them a lead of 2-0. The game was scoreless in the second period, but in the third, one of Merrimack’s guys set up a pass for his teammate in front of the crease, scoring their first goal of the game and bringing the score to 2-1.
But then Coach Bedley challenged the play, bringing the game to a halt for seven excruciating minutes.
Mitch skated up to the GH bench. “What’s going on?”
Craig “Goldie” Golding tipped his stick to where Bedley was conferring with Assistant Coach Spinney and one of the refs. “Coach thinks Baedeker was inside the blue line before Offill brought the puck in.”
Jesus, they could be here forever waiting while officials watched and re-watched the same twenty seconds of tape. Fuck.
Mitch nodded his thanks to Goldie. He skated over to Yano, who was deep in conversation with the possibly offending Baedeker from Merrimack.
“Definitely Mama Jean’s, man,” Yano was saying. “The Green Onion’s good, but it’s small and they’re more… What’s the word I’m looking for, Grey?”
“Uptight?” Mitch said, coming to a stop next to them. “They’re anal about how much noise you can make and will kick you out if they find you offensive. But Mama Jean doesn’t care. You can get as rowdy as you want, as long as you clean up after yourself.”
“Yeah.” Yano clapped Mitch on the back. “Besides, you can’t beat Mama Jean’s pizza.”
“Mama Jean’s it is, then.” Baedeker fist bumped first Yano, then Mitch. “Thanks for the tip. Maybe we’ll see you guys there after the game.” He skated off to join his teammates at the visitor’s bench.
“You coming to Mama Jean’s tonight?” Yano asked Mitch.
“No, I’ve got a friend visiting from out of town.”
“Bring him. Or her, whatever.”
Mitch shook his head. “His grandpa’s in the hospital. Don’t think he’ll be in the mood for a loud crowd of assholes like us.”
“Mm hmm.”
“What?”
“I’m just wondering what you’ve been up to lately.” Yano skated circles around Mitch. “We haven’t seen much of you outside of games and practice.”
“I’ve been busy with school and work.”
“Creative writing kicking your ass again?”
Mitch sighed. “Yeah.” He’d told Alex he’d kept it because of his academic advisor and the whole well-rounded student bullshit, but at the time, all he’d really wanted was an excuse to stay in touch with Alex once Alex went back to Florida.
Now that they were together, he didn’t need that excuse, but he’d kept this semester’s creative writing class because… he was a sucker for punishment?
Of course, he was, once again, failing. JP took pity on him and set him up with a new tutor who was nowhere near as hot as Alex.
But Mitch had to pay for this one. He’d asked the long-term care facility for extra shifts but they didn’t need him more than once a week, which meant he had to tutor more math students to make the cash that would pay for his own tutor.
The cycle was exhausting. Hell, he was exhausted just thinking about it.
And more tutoring equalled less time for homework and course readings.
Alex hadn’t been wrong in his estimate that Mitch was only getting four hours of sleep each night.
Mitch was fucking tired and there was no relief in sight until the end of the semester.
Plus, he was supposed to visit Alex in Florida over the President’s Day long weekend in three weeks—which also happened to be Valentine’s Day weekend—but Mitch had yet to figure out how to do that, short of asking his dad or Alex for cash for the flight.
Not happening. Hence even more tutoring, less time for schoolwork, and even less sleep. Somebody kill him.
Play finally resumed, and the score was brought back to 2-0 after the officials verified that Baedeker had, in fact, been over the blue line.
With their goal nullified, Merrimack came back with a vengeance, determination stamped all over their pissed off faces, but the third period ended scoreless for them.
It was fucking loud in the GH locker room after the game.
Fatigue weighed Mitch’s muscles down and it took him twice as long as usual to shower.
Knowing Alex was only twenty minutes away at the hospital in Montpelier was the only thing that got him moving.
He didn’t take part in any of the locker room trash talk, and he could practically feel Yano and Marco eyeballing each other over his head.
The silent conversation probably went something like this:
Yano: You talk to him.
Marco: No, you.
Yano: I tried already. Your turn.
Marco: You’re his bestie on the team. Clearly you didn’t try hard enough.
Yano (scowling): Fuck you.
Marco (cheerily): No, fuck you!
“What is it, guys?” Mitch eyed them both as a group of their teammates exited the locker room chanting “Mama Jean’s! Mama Jean’s!” Because hockey players were children.