Chapter 7
seven
. . .
Mason
I spend the rest of my morning in my office, staring at the current roster list while only thinking about Violet. I had planned on coming up with new plays to accommodate the change in lines I proposed, but after my run-in with her, everything felt off. So much time had passed, and I expected our interactions to feel stunted, but I never expected to feel fully disconnected from her. I had thought I’d at least recognize the person that I knew before our fallout, but she was so distant from who she once was. Or at least from how she used to be around me. Maybe it’s because we both still harbor some resentment from the past. I have tried to be a bigger man and get over the fact that she wasn’t willing to be in my life if she couldn’t have everything. But I can’t ignore the resentment I feel at how fast she was able to move on. To be so hardened and resistant to the fact that I wanted to fix things when she just wanted to throw the whole relationship out. I knew we still had something worth saving, and now that life was different for me, I was still holding out hope that one day we could be something more than friends. Or enemies. Or whatever we are now.
I had come up with a whole plan after our awkward encounter in her office. I would gently confront her and finally clear the air. I would tell her that I had so much time — painful, lonely, self-loathing time — to reflect on what matters in this life. And it is her. She matters. And whatever she wants from me, I will give. And she would tell me that I was only saying this because I had nothing left after my retirement. No girls, no dream job, no support. Because she is Violet and she never lets me off easy. And I would tell her that only an idiot realizes what he has once he has nothing. And I am an idiot, a big one who hopes she can find it in her huge heart to take pity on me. Then she’d smile, walk over into my outstretched arms, and I’d kiss the top of her head and breathe in her delicious curls. After that we’d go out to dinner, and I would suggest dessert at my place. And, with her permission, I’d have her panties around her ankles before the cab pulled away from the curb.
All of that went to shit the second I saw her at the Beanery. She came off as the epitome of unaffected. Rather than being flooded with emotions of remorse and regret to fuel my apology, the second I saw her all I felt was hurt. From there I forgot my well-rehearsed pitch to convince her to hear me out. Instead, all I wanted to do was get a reaction, of any kind. An acknowledgment that I was a living, breathing man and not some ghost haunting her favorite coffee shop.
So rather than telling her how much I missed her and how my life hadn’t been the same since she cut ties with me, I started resorting to my old tricks from when we were kids — teasing her and hoping it would bring some level of familiarity back. I tried to channel the days when we would bicker then end it with a final sarcastic quip or an eye roll, knowing things were fine between us. But this wasn’t like our normal conversations, and she appeared to genuinely want nothing more than to get away from me. I didn’t want to bring up Jake, but I did need to clear that up before our next game. I knew she wouldn’t love me asking for a favor, but I certainly didn’t expect the contempt. Nor did I anticipate that I was pouring fuel on the dumpster fire that was our relationship (or lack thereof). It’s as if my brain short-circuits whenever I’m in a room with her.
Ugh. I really should’ve listened to my gut when it came to Jake. I had a feeling his story was off, but it’s my first week, and I want my players to trust me. And I hoped he was telling the truth. Coach’s most important task was to get the guys’ grades in order, and now I feared Jake was going to make this task very hard for me. I suppose I could manage Coach’s look of disproval when Jake is inevitably benched for his D, but the look of hurt and rage in Violet’s eyes is more than I can bear.
As if thinking about her was enough to summon her (years of unsent texts have proved this theory wrong), an email notification from Violet pops up on my computer.
Today, 2:13 p.m.
To: Jake Keeley (keeleyj25@ westchesteru.edu )
cc: Mason Hayes ( mhayes @westchesteru.edu )
From: Violet Amin (aminv @westchesteru.edu )
Subject: PSYCH101 Follow-Up Meeting
Hi Jake,
After speaking with Coach Hayes, we decided it would be best for the three of us to meet to discuss your current grade in PSYCH101 and how we can get things back on track. I’ve attached a Calendly link for ease of coordinating. If any questions arise in the meantime, please reach out.
Best ,
Violet
--
Development Psychology PhD Student
Westchester University
I shouldn’t have expected anything beyond a professional email, but something about the rigid formality made me feel like an outsider. Just another university colleague. I had worked very hard to be an insider with Violet once upon a time. Violet had always struggled with trusting people and letting her guard down. I couldn’t fault her for it, given all the awful shit she and her mom went through with her dad before they moved to Castle Harbor. Over time, Violet shared bits and pieces of the life she and her mom lived before moving. The many nights her father would come home drunk and lose his temper, her and her mom hiding away in her bedroom until he managed to fall asleep or fully blackout. I couldn’t imagine the courage it took for her mom to pack up their whole life in the hope of a new beginning.
Their first few years in Castle Harbor weren’t exactly easy either. Violet’s mom was spread thin, working as many jobs as she could to provide for her and Vi. My family and a decent number of others had been welcoming and offered whatever help we could, but there were some locals who harbored resentment for any ‘outsiders’ that moved into town. Some of the not-as-friendly locals felt like Elaine, Violet’s mom, had to prove she wasn’t a tourist in disguise just there to purchase land in Castle Harbor and take up real estate but contribute nothing to the town. Elaine put those concerns to bed over time with how involved she was in the community, building up a coffee shop a few years after moving in. As for the very small remainder of locals who would make microaggressive comments about their Middle Eastern heritage, well they knew better than to open their mouths when I was around.
Despite Violet’s cageyness, she’s one of the most vulnerable and caring people I have ever met. I was drawn to her immediately and couldn’t help but feel protective over her. Little by little she let me in, and I found that to know Violet was to love her. To love the ferocity she had when it came to supporting those she cared about, and the compassion she showed whenever someone was going through a hard time. She would never admit it, but all she ever wanted was to let her guard down and love without abandon.
I never imagined I’d be on the receiving end of her ice out. Maybe this was for the best. Perhaps keeping things professional would force me to face the fact that after three years of ignoring me, she no longer wanted me to know her and therefore, love her. The thought of finally letting go of someone who no longer wants you is supposed to come with sorrow but also a feeling of freedom (or so my NHL-required therapist used to say). Instead, I felt like I was going to be sick.
A knock on the door snaps me out of my pity party as Jake walks into my office. How timely.
“Sup Coach. You got a minute?”
“Definitely. I was just about to see if you were in. I had a chance to talk to your TA, Violet?— ”
“Yeah, I saw the email. So, you got her to reconsider?” He sprawls out in the chair in front of my desk, a shit-eating grin taking over his face. A part of me wonders how I didn’t see this side of him earlier. I feel a wave of shame as I think back to all the times in the past when I had acted similarly. That aura of confidence and self-assured ego had been my default response to anyone who tried to suggest I care about anything that wasn’t hockey. I wish I’d had the foresight to consider how fast an NHL contract could go away and leave you scrambling to figure out what’s next.
“We had an honest conversation about how your grades have been slipping.”
You’re here to be their coach, not their friend . “Well, slipping would imply you were excelling in the first place. She mentioned how you asked her to change your grade even though the answers were incorrect?—”
“C’mon man, she’s lying. I’m not the first player she’s done this to. She has a thing against hockey players. Maybe one broke her heart back in the day and now she’s taking it out on the rest of us.”
If only he knew the full story. “So, she didn’t offer you an extra credit assignment that you turned down because it was ‘too much work’?”
Silence, the closest thing to a confession that I would get. “It appears some wires were crossed—” I gave him a pointed look, “— so for that reason, we decided the three of us would have a meeting and decide what the best course of action would be. With the goal of getting you back on track so we don’t have to pull you off the ice.”
That manages to get a reaction from him. “Pulling me off the ice?! I thought you were fixing this not making it worse.”
“This is part of fixing the issue. I can’t say for certain I know exactly what her plan will be, but I’ll be there too. I am on your side, Jake. Even if it doesn’t feel like I am.”
I wanted to support him in more ways than he realized. Just because I made the mistake of putting all my eggs in a puck-shaped basket doesn’t mean he had to.
Jake appears vulnerable and small as he softly asks, “So I’m officially banned from playing then?”
“Not yet. But you will be soon if you don’t take this meeting with Violet, and whatever plan comes with it, seriously.”
“Shit. Alright. You sure she’ll be reasonable about this?”
If he was as persistent on the ice as he was now, we’d be locked in for the championship this year. “I’m sure. Should we figure out a date to meet then?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”