Chapter 11 #2
Be sure to speak up if something doesn’t feel right.
I worry about you, James.
My dad doesn’t need to write the words, You’re all I have left.
The sentiment comes through the phone, making my chest tighten.
My dad’s all I have left too. I should have texted him faster.
I shouldn’t make him worry so much. He’s already under so much stress from his job, from living alone.
If something happened to him, too, I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do.
Me
I promise I’ll respond quicker to your messages next time
I can’t make promises to be safe. He wouldn’t believe them anyways. Hockey is a contact sport, even if no one should be messing with goalies or colliding into them. It’s just the nature of the game.
Dad
I love you, James. Enjoy your later dinner. Make sure you get some sleep too.
Me
Love you too
Silence follows. I lay my phone on the table and glance out the large terminal window as a torrent of rain slams against the glass.
It’s a mess out there. I finally manage to eat the dinner I grabbed and scroll through social media without taking much in, my mind elsewhere.
My thoughts aren’t on tonight’s loss and the goal which sealed our fate; I’m wondering about our future in the playoffs.
Some of the other teams in our conference might run us over if we’re not careful.
As time passes at a crawl, my brooding only worsens. Thankfully, my phone buzzes and a banner notification from Eric appears at the top of my screen.
Eric
Text me as soon as you’re free.
I exhale deeply and send back a simple response.
Me
Hi
Eric
Are you okay?
I’m touched by Eric’s concern. He must’ve seen the clip of the goal. No doubt it’s been reposted and shared all across the internet since it happened. Goalies tend to notice big incidents like this around the league.
Me
I’m fine. Just tired. We’re stuck at the airport. Our flight was delayed
Eric
Can I call you?
Eric mentioned he had a few days off before his own team would be heading out for another stretch of away games—in Florida, funny enough. He must not be busy if he’s interested in talking over the phone.
I cut out the middle-man and call him as my answer. Eric picks up on the first ring.
“I’m glad you’re okay. That hit looked terrible.”
I chuckle. “Wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I can’t believe no one on your team dropped gloves. Not even a challenge!”
“Guess they didn’t think it was important. Something, something home ice advantage.”
“Anyone making contact with a goalie, especially that way, deserves to at least be shoved up against the boards. It was just so frustrating watching your team do nothing. You shouldn’t—”
Eric cuts himself off and sighs. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bad mouth your team. I hate plays like that. A goalie can get really hurt with someone running into them like that.”
I couldn’t agree more, but this is the Comets we’re talking about. On a perfect team, a team like the Seadogs, the players wouldn’t let anyone mess with Eric. Their coach wouldn’t just leave the call on the ice unchallenged.
“I don’t know.” I look around before continuing, making sure none of my teammates can overhear what I’m about to say. “I wish they would’ve done something. Just challenging it at the very least. The game was nearly over. There wasn’t much else to lose.”
“So I guess there’s no chance for ice cream tonight?
” he asks, shifting the conversation and causing me to chuckle.
I’m grateful for the deflection. If Eric gets any more heated over the outcome of tonight’s game, I’ll get angry again too, and there’s no point getting emotional in an airport terminal over the remains of some cold fries. “How bad’s the weather?”
“Pretty bad. There’s a thunderstorm happening right now. A few of the restaurants were still open at least.”
“Anything good?”
I shrug even though he can’t see me. “It was just a burger and some fries.”
“So you wouldn’t recommend it?”
“It’s not verde enchiladas and fish tacos.”
Eric hums in response. “Can’t stop thinking about that lunch, huh?”
“Of course!” I’ll never stop thinking about it, our dinner, the whole weekend. “You weren’t kidding when you said it would be the best Mexican food I’d ever have. I kind’ve wish we could play the Grizzlies again just so I could go back.”
Eric laughs, the sound rumbling through the phone.
“So what have you been up to?” I ask, rolling my shoulder to stretch. “Besides making me hungry again.”
“I finished my workout shortly after your game ended. I’m out on my patio with some cocoa.”
“Didn’t you guys just have a major storm like a week ago? Isn’t it too cold?”
“It’s a little chilly, but it’s nothing a fire and blanket can’t handle.”
I lean back in my chair, my eyes drifting to my view—the storm’s starting to simmer down outside.
“Can you see any stars where you live?” I ask, curious. “Or is there too much light?”
“I live outside the city, so you can see tons. It’s beautiful. One of the many reasons I love living out here.”
“Do you know any constellations?”
“No, not really.”
It’s hard to imagine something Eric’s not talented at. He seems like a Renaissance man living in the modern era.
“Seriously? I thought you would’ve since you love camping so much.”
“I honestly spend most of the evenings around the campfire chatting with whoever came out with me. We don’t really stargaze, I’ll admit. I’ve never really thought about it.” He chuckles sheepishly. “What about you?”
“I went through an astronomy phase while I was in the Scouts. Earned the badges and everything, so I know the constellations. Like a lot of them.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“You don’t think it’s dorky?”
“No way! Most people can’t even point them out. Again, you’re talking to a guy who wears novelty cooking aprons around his grill.”
I chuckle and smile to myself.
“Maybe someday we can go on a camping trip and you can teach me yourself.”
My heart flutters at the thought of Eric and I out in the wilderness, sharing our interests together. Hiking in the afternoon, curling up on a blanket together to stargaze…
What an impossible dream.
“That’d be fun.”
“Don’t suppose you can give me a basic lesson over the phone ahead of time?”
“How basic are we talking?”
“Rudimentary. Step one.”
“Well, you can always find Polaris, the North Star, easily. It’s stationary from our perspective on Earth.”
“It’s the brightest, isn’t it?”
I sit up a little straighter, as if I’m back in school and about to be the teacher’s pet.
“No, it actually isn’t. People think that because it’s the brightest of Ursa Minor, aka the Little Dipper. You can find it easier in the city where you’ll generally see fewer stars.”
“That makes sense.”
“So…” I clear my throat. “You first want to look for Ursa Major, aka the Big Dipper.”
“The ladle looking thing?”
“Correct. Find the side of the bowl. You’ll draw a line from those two stars to the brightest star in the tail of the Little Dipper.”
“Alright, I’m looking.” There’s a pause over the call, and then Eric speaks, “Okay… I think I found it?”
“There you go. True north. No matter where you are on the planet, you can find it.”
If I were outside, if the sky wasn’t covered up by stormclouds, I could find it too. But I don’t need to. I know it’s there. Even thousands of miles apart, we’re still under the same night sky. Does Eric have any idea how romantic that is to me?
“…Thank you everyone for your patience,” a woman says over the terminal’s speaker. “We’ve just been cleared for departure. We’ll begin boarding for Flight 141 to Chicago in just a few minutes…”
“Sounds like you’ll be on your way shortly.”
There’s always something pulling me away from him, but it’s inevitable and I’m ready to be as far away from the “Sunshine State” as humanly possible.
“Yeah,” I say while yawning. “Thanks for checking in, Eric. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course. Goalies gotta look out for each other. Hope you have a safe flight.”
“Thanks. Enjoy the stargazing.”
“I will.”
The call ends, and I shove my phone into my pocket. I spare one last forlorn glance through the window up at the dark sky, wishing I could be with Eric and show him the stars in person.