Chapter 35
DENALI
CHRISTMAS GIFT WHIPLASH
Zariah and I went from a couple of messages a day to texting constantly. If I stepped outside of the house, I had her on speed dial. I took every opportunity to call her. I craved her approval, her time, her attention. I coveted the minutes alone with her.
We decided to open our gifts on Christmas Eve, and I snuck off to my bedroom. I stuffed a towel along the underside of my door, making sure no one in the house could hear, then brought my lamp to my closet, crouching down.
Tonight was a video call, and the little spiral bounced across my screen until Zariah appeared, waving in my hoodie, a knit hat, and gloves. Her cheeks were tinged pink, her wavy hair draped down her shoulder in a thick braid.
“Happy birthday again.” I leaned in. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the storage shed,” she announced. “It’s the only place I could get some privacy.”
“Is it cold?”
“Fuck yeah, it’s cold. My nipples are hard!”
I grinned. “Sorry about that. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. Open the box—”
“No, you—”
“I’m freezing my ass off. You do what I say,” she commanded, snapping her fingers. “Open the old one first. You’ll never believe what Hersch left you.”
I had no idea one of the gifts was from Hersch, but it was easy to pinpoint which one. The cardboard box was worn, discolored and wrinkled with age.
When I opened it, I stared at something I never thought I’d see again. It was the ice monster, an intricately crafted clay sculpture painted to look like shards of ice. Surprised, I lifted it from the bottom. “Holy shit, I fucking loved this thing.”
“Pretty great, huh?” Zariah smirked. “My mom didn’t want to send it to you, but I stole it. You’re welcome.”
“Snuck it out in the dead of night? Forced Elijah to pull a distraction?”
“You better believe it.”
Something slid to the ground, a plain yellow envelope. It was unsealed, the lip of the envelope, carefully folded back in. I held it up to show her.
“Hersch left you a letter,” she explained. “It’s between you two, I didn’t read it.”
It’d been a while since I’d read cursive. I held the lamp closer, carefully reading the words until I froze. I reread them as if they’d say something else. “Zariah?”
“Yeah?”
“He didn’t leave this for me.”
“Are you joking?” she said, sitting up. “Who did he leave it to?”
It felt like I’d swallowed an ice cube, I could feel the cold travel through me as I absorbed the handwriting I hadn’t read in five years. “I mean, not just for me. He left it to me, you, and—uh—our future kids.”
“Our future kids? Goddammit, Hersch. No wonder my mom was so angry.” A beat passed before she asked the question I knew she would. “What does it say?”
“If you’re reading this, I’m dead.”
She put her head in her hands. “Hersch.”
“Today was not a good day at the hospital and I’m a little more angry at the world,” I continued. “I’m angry that I don’t get to see your wedding when it's by my design that you two are together. I’m angry I don’t get to see my great-grandchildren.”
Zariah was silent and the silence was heavy. It was hard to talk through it.
“I’m sixty-two years old. I’m young. I was supposed to have time.” The longer I read the letter, the worse my throat felt, like I was grating my vocal cords. “I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with the two of you.”
“Denali?” Zariah hesitated. “You don’t have to keep reading.”
“If you grow apart, I hope this will bring you back together. In time, you can gift it to your children, so—” My voice cracked. “So I can be there like I was supposed to.”
The sniffling stopped me, Zariah hurried to wipe at her eyes. She caught my stare and gave a hopeless shrug.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Take better care of each other than I could take care of you,” I finished. “I miss you both and love you very much. Herschel.”
“He was such an asshole,” Zariah managed, her words twisted. “He never told me he loved me until he was at the hospital and didn’t want me to—” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Of course, he had to put it in a letter instead of saying it in person.”
I rubbed at my face, my eyes stinging. “Yeah. I miss him too.”
“I miss him—I missed you.”
“I miss you too.”
“No, I missed you. After. You don’t know how much I missed you, and how angry I was, and—and—” She gestured to the screen. “Fuck, we shouldn’t have opened Hersch’s first. You have to open your other gift now.”
“I thought we were going back and forth?”
“Not after that huge downer. I’m not celebrating Christmas with you like that. Open the gift, Denali.”
I couldn’t say no to her, and for as sad as Hersch’s letter made me, that wasn’t all I was feeling. This was special. There was no one else I would’ve rather opened the letter with than Zariah.
I dragged over the other present and tore the tape. This one wasn’t as easy to identify. I peered into it, confused. “What is this?”
“Supplies.”
“Supplies?”
“When we get back to campus, we’re having a sleepover in my dorm. Those are our nesting supplies.”
There were comfortable socks, face masks, slippers, and a fuzzy blanket. I dug through the box, surprised with each soft, furry object I found. There were hockey-print pajamas, I lifted them for the camera.
“We have matching pajamas and you’re going to wear them with me.”
The mood change was such a whiplash. Zariah picked out these things for me because she wanted to make space for me in her dorm, in her life. Happiness burned in my chest.
At the bottom, there were a handful of clear tubes. I read the labels and my eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”
“You must’ve found the lube.”
“Yeah,” I said, sheepish.
“Did you find the big box of condoms?”
“No, I don’t see it.”
“Good. I’m on birth control. I don’t want to use them.”
My gaze snapped to the camera, at Zariah’s innocent smile. My blush was embarrassing but it was like my grin, I couldn’t hide it.
“I love that smile,” she murmured.
“You’re the only one who could get it out of me after a letter like Hersch’s,” I remarked. “You have to open your gift now.” I motioned for her to begin. “It’s nothing big—”
“Ooo, chocolates. And…another letter.” She sucked her teeth. “After Hersch’s…”
“Don’t worry, just read it.”
Zariah settled back and I watched her with rapt attention, not wanting to miss any of the little changes across her face.
The letter was eight pages, detailing my years since our summer together. I reiterated how much I’d changed, and wrote an actual, written apology. Montoya had helped me with the pictures. I’d printed out a couple from our time at hockey camp, five years ago.
Zariah gently picked up one of the pictures. It was a shot of the two of us on the ice, my arm around her waist, both of us with big, toothy grins at the camera.
“The mullet,” Zariah whispered.
“The glasses,” I countered.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“I only wear them for you—I look like a fucking dork in them.”
“I love how you look in them. You’re going to start wearing them more.”
My eyes flickered to her. “I am?”
Zariah nodded, reading through the pages. Her eyes lingered on the final page, at the question in thick letters.
“We have a tradition on the team. We give the bracelet to whoever we’re seeing,” I said, like she didn’t already know about it from her brother. Cleo passed out the Gladiator bands out at the end of the summer, and I stuffed mine in my nightstand because I didn’t have anything to do with it.
Until now.
“Zariah, I’d really love to be your boyfriend. Again. Better than last time.”
Her smile sparkled as much as her eyes, and she slipped the woven bracelet over her wrist. It was easily the best Christmas I’d ever had.
Christmas morning I was up early to make breakfast for my family. There were only nine days left until I was back at Marrs. My bags were already packed, and I had a call with Zariah planned in six hours. The grin had been on my face for so long, it ached. Life couldn’t be better.
Footsteps echoed from the hall and my mom glanced in. “Look at you up early. Did you forget your contact solution?”
I hesitated, all too aware of the glasses on my face. I put them on this morning to send off a text to Coach about our new lineup, and then…I didn’t take them off. “I was kind of thinking of wearing them more.”
“Really? What brought this on?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I wear contacts too often, they kind of irritate my eyes.”
“Did you tell the optometrist?”
“I did. Last year,” I admitted. “He said I should ease up on them and…I haven’t until now.” I motioned to the full pot. “Coffee?”
My mom poured herself a mug, smiling. “So…we’re going to do this big reveal for your Christmas present. The grandbabies are going to be so excited.”
“Yeah?”
She mouthed the words. “We’re going to Houston!”
I stared. “What? When?”
“For your UT-whatever game! The next one! We’re—”
“The UTV game?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t look so overjoyed. It’s your Christmas present, Denali.”
“You guys don’t even like hockey,” I said, careful to keep my voice a mutter while my nieces were out of earshot. My family couldn’t be serious about traveling for the game, I wanted to spend that time with Zariah. “Why not come for another weekend?”
“Your dad and Darren have a trip to Houston anyway—”
Irritation rippled through me. “Oh, so it’s a business trip?” I bit back the rest of my comments. “You don’t have to come for the UTV game. You could come for playoffs or the Gulf Coast Championship.”
She sighed. “It’s lovely that your team has gotten so far but Taylor said—”
“Taylor? Coach Taylor? My old coach?”
“Your dad had a fundraiser luncheon. What, do you want us to never talk to him again?”
“Yeah, actually, I do.” I dumped the bacon on the plate, irritation morphing into anger. “He ruined my chances at a pro team, he kept me out of the draft because he wanted his best friends’ kids to get spots they didn’t deserve—”
“Taylor did so much for you.”
“He held me back.”
“You weren’t going anywhere,” she said, then stopped herself.
“You didn’t have the same connections those boys had, we’ve been over this.
It wasn’t Taylor’s fault. He worked with what he had.
” She took a long drink of coffee. “He’s been talking nonstop about you to every paper that’ll listen.
If you just apologized, I know you could come back to Michigan. ”
Silent, I poured batter in the waffle maker.
“You should listen to him,” she said. “He says Marrs won’t make it past the UV game—”
“I don’t care what he thinks.”
She took the bowl of batter from me and ushered me out of the kitchen. “We’re waking up the girls in ten minutes. I want you to clean up your attitude. It’s Christmas.”
“I’m going outside,” I muttered.
I could hear her reply as I left the kitchen. “Your family wants to visit you at your school, wow, your life is so difficult.”
I couldn’t believe my parents were getting comfortable with my past coaches and discussing a transfer behind my back. Grabbing my coat, I headed to the snowy backyard, needing space.
UTV were the finalists for the Gulf Coast Cup last year. I hadn’t truly thought about it, but this game definitely wouldn’t be as easy as the others.
I sank to the swingset. “Fuck.”
Don’t fly to Houston. Don’t fly to Houston.
Zariah and I had a call scheduled in five and a half hours—I didn’t know how I was going to make it until then.
I raked a hand through my hair, staring at the snow.
If I couldn’t go to Houston, or call her early, I had to text her.
It was Christmas morning, I didn’t expect a response, but I needed to get it out before I said something I regretted to my family.
I whipped out my phone and sent the text.
ME
I’m going to admit something to you I’m nervous about the UTV game
It was so fucking stupid. I hated showing that side of myself, hated giving fuel to that reminder at the back of my head that I wasn’t good enough. Even worse, I didn’t want to talk like that to Zariah. I didn’t want her to see me like that, as someone looking for pity.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and stared at the tops of the birch trees. Sémajuste and I had been working on a brand-new strategy with Montoya. It was untested in a real game. I wanted to believe in us, but the inadequate feelings from my years in Michigan resurfaced.
What if my family was right?
What if this was the best I could do?
My phone rang and I glanced down in surprise. It was seven o’clock in the morning—who was calling me?
I answered the call. “Hello?”
“I’m going to the bathroom!” Zariah shouted at someone, her voice faint. “Four minutes of alone time, let me pee in peace!” Voices were suddenly muffled as a door shut. “Hell, I’m getting an ulcer from the stress—I can’t take this many people crammed into my house.”
“Zariah?”
“What’d you say, Denali?” she said, now crystal clear. “You’re nervous about the game?”
“I don’t know. A little.”
“No, you’re not,” she said briskly. “They lost twice against ETCU, their associate head coach was tossed a couple of weeks ago, and their offense is trigger-happy.”
My eyebrows furrowed. “Oh. I forgot about their coach situation.”
“Yeah. You’re not nervous about UTV, your family’s just stressing you out.”
It was like Zariah draped a blanket over me. Relief poured inside me, my shoulders finally relaxing. I leaned against the chain of the swing set. “Fuck, I miss you.”
“Don’t worry about something as stupid as UTV. Understood?”
I hesitated. “My parents are coming to the game.”
“See, now that’s something to worry about—” Someone knocked on the door and she raised her voice. “I’m taking a PISS! Give me five minutes!”
“No, you’re not.” I could hear Elijah retort. “I can hear you on the phone with you-know-who. Get out of the bathroom! I actually have to piss!”
“Tell him I said hi,” I chuckled.
“Fuck no, he doesn’t deserve it.” Zariah returned to the call, her voice lowered. “Don’t worry about your family. I’ll be there. And I know you won’t embarrass me because you’re fucking amazing at what you do.”
I wanted to tell her about the surprise for the UTV game, the one that involved Montoya, but I only had a few minutes left and I wanted to soak that in as much as I could.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “You’re my proof, you know that?”
“Proof for what?” she asked.
“Proof that there’s one right person for everyone,” I said softly. “Because you’re mine.”