Chapter 26
MAREK
“Well, aren’t we two scoops of grumpy in a bowl of cranky,” Archie says.
We’re about to board the plane for a trip to Chicago.
“He’s grumptious,” Crusher adds.
“Grumpy gills.”
“Gary grumpy pants.”
“Fuck off.” I flash my middle finger at my jabbering teammates.
“Proving our point,” Dilly says. “What’s up, man? Those enlargement pills aren’t working?”
“You haven’t been yourself for a while now,” Archie says with a genuinely worried look.
“I’m fine.”
I keep saying that. Benny and Mabel are on my ass, too.
Crusher claps a hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Sometimes life fucks you and you just gotta change positions and enjoy it.”
I don’t know what the fuck to say to that.
On the plane I end up sitting with Alfie.
“How are things going at Hakim’s place?” I ask him as I buckle up.
“Okay.” He makes a face. “He’s a neat freak and I’m not. But I have my own space, so we’re getting along okay. I found an apartment. I move in April 1st.”
“Ugh. Still a few weeks away.”
“Yeah. And heading into the playoffs.”
We already know we’re in the playoffs. We’ve been on fire lately. It’s been a steady build all season and hopefully we’re peaking at the right time.
I’ve been a madman on the ice. I don’t give a shit about anything, so I’ve been playing aggressively—skating hard, throwing my body around, going hard for loose pucks, yelling at the other guys. I have nothing else to put my energy into, so it goes into hockey.
The guys can bust my balls all they want for being a grouch, but I’m fucking motivating this team by bringing the intensity every game. And we’re winning.
“Where’s the new place?” I ask Alfie.
“On Willow Avenue.”
“Oh, not far from us.”
“Yeah. It has really nice floors.”
“Floors?” Sounds a bit odd.
“The place was empty when I saw it, so that’s all I noticed,” he says sadly.
It’s not far from us, and also not far from Uncle Ernie’s. Where Ayla works. “Is Ayla still at your old place?”
“Yeah.” He looks down glumly. “She said she’d move out, but I said I would. She’s been through enough.”
“So have you.”
He grimaces. “Like Crusher said, sometimes you just gotta change positions and enjoy it.”
“Fuck that. There’s nothing enjoyable about this shit.”
“True.”
“That’s a lot of house for Ayla on her own.” They lived in a big house in Maplewood, with like, five bedrooms and a huge yard.
“It is. But I’ll go over anytime she needs something done. What’s up with you?” He eyes me. “Problems with the pop star?”
I shake my head. “She’s gone.”
“Ah. So that’s the problem.”
I exhale a long stream of air. “Yeah.”
“Things got serious with you two?”
“For me, yeah.” I make a face. “Not so much for her.”
“That blows.”
I nod.
“Women.”
One corner of my mouth inches upward. “Right?”
We both fall silent. Then he says, “I still fucking love her, though.”
Shit. That’s heart-wrenching, that he still loves her and they’ve split up.
“It pisses me off sometimes,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Like, losing our son wasn’t enough? Now we’ve lost each other? Fuck that.”
“Did you… try some counseling?”
“Yeah. Ayla was seeing someone and we went together a few times. I wasn’t exactly eager to talk about all our shit in front of a stranger, but I actually think it could have helped, if we’d kept going. But she… gave up.”
“So this split obviously wasn’t your idea.”
“Well…” He rubs his face. “It wasn’t exactly fun, all the tension. Arguing. Silence. It feels shitty to say it, but it’s kind of a relief not having to deal with that every day. We just couldn’t talk to each other anymore.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
He gives me a wry smile. “I’m okay. Sorry you’re going through shit, too.”
“I screwed up.” I look out the plane window as we start taxiing. “She was leaving and I didn’t want her to. I shouldn’t have pressed her for more. And I don’t believe in long term anyway.”
“Yeah, you’ve never really been with someone long term since I’ve known you.”
“I just like things to be simple and fun. No attachments.” I wince. “Or I used to. Then this woman… she showed up in my life and everything changed. I can’t even explain how hard and fast I fell for her.”
“Why is that?” he asks. “I mean, why do you like to keep things casual?”
“Life is short,” I say, using my standard answer.
“Oh, yeah.” His tone is heartfelt.
“You know that better than anyone.”
He nods, his mouth flat. “Yeah. But… that sounds kind of…”
“What?”
“That sounds kind of chicken shit.”
My chin jerks down. “What?”
“Like a cop-out.”
I turn and give him a glare. “A cop-out?”
“Yeah.” He rubs his jaw. “Hear me out. It sounds like you’re afraid of relationships. Because… why?”
“I’m not afraid of relationships.”
“Oh. Okay.” He appears unconvinced.
“I wanted a relationship with Nikki. And look what happened! If I am afraid of relationships, that’s why.”
“Right.”
I give him a sideways frown. I’m not afraid, for Chrissakes. I just know it’s better not to get too involved. And this whole thing with Nikki just proved me right.
“Let me give you some advice—”
I hold up a hand. “No. Thanks.” Archie loves giving advice. Hockey advice, love advice, health advice. But I’m not in the mood for it.
He frowns. “Okay. Whatever.”
Now I’m even grumpier. I pull out my Nintendo DS and start a game to keep me from being more of an asshole to a guy who doesn’t deserve it.
* * *
Nikki’s absence is like a knife turning slowly in my chest. My insides feel shredded and I don’t think it’s getting better.
Do I regret having her stay with me all that time?
Nah. I’m gonna hold on to those memories forever.
Sometimes when I go into the bathroom I think I can still smell her exotic scent, flowers and honey and her skin, and it’s still intoxicating.
I’ve watched YouTube videos of her singing over and over, which I know is just picking at a scab, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
It’s like I’m addicted to her. I check her Instagram all the time.
She hasn’t posted anything there for months.
And I scour online blogs and entertainment sites for mention of her.
That’s pretty meager, too; one site just says they’ve heard she’s back in L.A.
and getting back to work. I knew that. I’m glad it’s working out for her. She’s so fucking brave.
After practice one day, Levi corners me in the players’ lounge. “Hey. I need you to visit a sick kid at Fineberg Children’s Hospital.”
Fuck. This again. “I can’t do it.”
“Come on, Marek. The other guys have all done it.”
Except Alfie. But he has a valid reason.
I have a valid reason, too. But I haven’t told anyone.
“I just can’t.”
He gives me a long, slitty-eyed look. “This kid specifically asked to meet you. He has Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He’s having surgery and chemotherapy and Hopeful Hearts is helping make his wish come true.”
Fuck.
“After he’s done chemo, we hope to bring him to the arena for a practice and a game. Next season.” He pauses. “He’s five years old.”
I haven’t been to a hospital since that skate blade sliced my throat open. Luckily I haven’t had a pressing reason to; my family’s all healthy and I’ve been able to avoid these community visits. Thinking about the hospital gives me a sour curdling feeling in my gut.
I’m still smarting from Alfie calling me chicken shit.
Coming from him, that actually stung. I know what absolute hell he’s been through. Still going through.
And I think about Nikki. About how wrecked she was by what happened, and how she’s managed to fight her way back to her life.
Having seen her going through the nightmares and flashbacks and fears, I know she didn’t just get up one day totally fine; she has to be still going through it and that takes fucking balls. Ovaries.
I remember talking to her about it, confessing my fear of hospitals. You could do it. I know you could.
I look back at Levi. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll do it.”
“Great. I’ll email you the details when we get it set up.”
A five-year-old kid with cancer. Jesus fucking Christ.
* * *
My hands are sweating as I enter the hospital, a vast empty feeling in my stomach. I meet up with a rep from Hopeful Hearts, Janice, and a rep from the hospital.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” Janice says.
“We hoped you could meet with Will before his surgery. There’s always a chance that things may not go well.
” Her tone is matter-of-fact, but her eyes shadow.
“But we’re also hopeful that the surgery will go well and the chemo will go well and he’ll be fine. ” She smiles.
We all go up to the fourth floor and they lead me to Will’s room.
I don’t know what to expect. The smells and beeping machines bring back memories of that night I got cut. I’m a little worried I might pass out when I see the kid.
His mom is with him and jumps up from her chair on seeing me. This is a surprise for Will and his mouth opens into an O and his eyes are as big and round as hockey pucks. He’s a small kid, lying in a hospital bed. “Marek Smits!”
“Hi, buddy.” I smile at him and walk up to the bed. “How are you?”
“I’m doing great now!”
And suddenly my nerves are gone.
I grin. “I brought you some things.”
“Wow! I can’t believe this!”
His happiness makes me feel like a tiny little turd. Like… chicken shit. Christ.
I have a bunch of things for him from the team—a puck, a stick, a jersey, and a T-shirt. There’s also a ball cap, which he puts on right away. “I’m prolly gonna lose my hair,” he tells me. “I’ll need this.”
My heart lurches. I swallow. “Yeah. Perfect. I have this for you, too.” It’s a stuffed toy, the Storm’s mascot.
“Stormy!” He takes it and holds it up with delight.
“Do you know what kind of animal Stormy is?” I ask.
“He’s a buffalo.”
“That’s right. And do you know why the buffalo is our team mascot?”
He turns big eyes up to me. “No.”
“It’s because buffalo, er, actually bison, are the only animals that run into a storm instead of away from it.”
“They’re brave!”
“Right. And we try to be brave like that when we play.”
I hand over a couple of sets of trading cards, and he opens them right away. Together we look through them and he tells me some of his other favorite players (besides me, holy Christ).
Time passes quickly—hell, I love talking about hockey, I could keep going, but Will is tiring, and the visit is brought to an end. I give Will a fist bump and a hug and tell him I can’t wait for him to come to our practice. He’s so excited about that and sensation pulls tight in my chest.
I did it.
“You’d be proud of me, Nik,” I say out loud as I drive home. It’s not the first time I’ve talked to her even though she’s not here. I don’t care if I’m having a mental breakdown. It makes me feel better.