Chapter 4 #2
In the parking lot, the wind cuts through my suit like the fabric doesn't exist. I sit in my car and don't turn the key right away.
Instead, I just stare at my hands on the steering wheel.
My knuckles are scuffed from the game. The finger tape imprint's still visible on my skin.
My right shoulder burns and pulses under my jacket like it wants to remind me of every wrong angle I chose tonight.
I run the game back in my head, shift by shift. The slash. The interference. The crease clear that started everything. The hit that felt clean and perfect. All the small, jagged moments that turned the whole thing sideways.
None of it gives me what I want. A reason that doesn't sound like ego and control and fear.
Scout's voice won't leave my head. You can't take that bait.
I think about the Flames bench and their chirping that felt scripted specifically for me. Machine. Too slow. One step from the injured list.
I think about how good it felt for one heartbeat to cut that winger in half with a legal hit. Then I think about how fast everything went sideways when I played like a hammer that only knows how to find nails.
It’s pouring rain as I drive home without music. The silence feels appropriate, like a punishment I deserve.
At my apartment, I take a shower hot enough to turn the bathroom into a steam room. I still feel cold when I step out. Icing my shoulder, I open my laptop to watch the game film. I scrub through clips until the screen becomes a smear of gray and red jerseys.
Rubbing my hand across my mouth, I let out a frustrated groan. Nothing makes sense. Every decision I made looks worse in replay.
My phone lights up on the arm of the chair. A message preview glows from the dating app I shouldn't have opened in the first place.
Yoga4Lyfe
Rough day?
One line. Simple. But it slides through my chest like a hand that knows exactly where every bruise is.
I should ignore it, put the phone down, and go to bed. If I had any sense, I would try to sleep off this disaster of a game.
But of course I don't.
I type out an answer that's darker than I mean it to be, then delete it. I try again with something cleaner.
StatMan12
You could say that. Work didn't go well.
Yoga4Lyfe
Want to talk about it?
StatMan12
Not really. I just want to forget it happened.
Yoga4Lyfe
I get that. Sometimes the best thing to do is let the day end and try again tomorrow.
Her words are simple but they settle something in my chest. I lean back in the chair, phone in my hands, ice pack slowly warming against my shoulder.
StatMan12
How was your day?
Yoga4Lyfe
Mixed. I did something I'm proud of. Then someone reminded me why I don't put myself out there very often.
StatMan12
What happened?
Yoga4Lyfe
I tried to help someone that’s a little cranky. And then I got told to stay in my lane. It sucked.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My hands go still on the phone. That's what I said to Scout. Those exact words. Stay in your lane.
StatMan12
That's harsh. Were you actually overstepping?
Yoga4Lyfe
I don't think so? I just pointed out something obvious that they couldn't see. But maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
StatMan12
No. If you saw something, you should say it.
Yoga4Lyfe
Even if the other person doesn't want to hear it?
I stare at the question. I picture Scout's face when I snapped at her and the disappointment she clearly felt. Man, I feel like a fucking asshole. It takes me half a minute to come up with a reply that doesn't worsen that feeling.
StatMan12
Even if they don't want to hear it, you should tell them. Especially then. Sometimes we can't see our own blind spots.
Yoga4Lyfe
That's generous of you. The person I tried to help didn't think so.
StatMan12
Maybe they will eventually. Sometimes it takes time to see things clearly. Maybe they had a bad day.
Yoga4Lyfe
Maybe. They always seem to have bad days.
Ouch. It hits like a blow to the throat.
StatMan12
Are you talking about me now?
Yoga4Lyfe
Hah. Are you someone who makes things harder for yourself?
StatMan12
Apparently, yes.
Yoga4Lyfe
Then I guess I am
The winky face makes me smile despite everything. The loss, the penalties, and the fact that I hurt Scout's feelings for no good reason.
We talk until my eyes start to blur with exhaustion.
She tells me about working on a project that might change things for her professionally.
I try to tell her about the pressure of work.
Keeping it light, knowing I can't get too specific without outing myself as a hockey player.
Instead, I talk more generally about performing when everyone's watching, waiting for you to fail.
She doesn't try to fix me. I appreciate that she doesn't offer empty comfort or tell me everything will be fine. She just listens through the screen.
Yoga4Lyfe: You should get some sleep. Tomorrow's a new day.
StatMan12
Until it's the same day again.
Yoga4Lyfe
Wow. That's bleak.
StatMan12
Sorry. I told you work didn't go well.
Yoga4Lyfe
It's okay to have bad days. Just don't let them define you.
StatMan12
Easier said than done.
Yoga4Lyfe
Most good things are.
I stare at those words for a long time. Most good things are hard.
StatMan12
Goodnight, Yoga Girl.
Yoga4Lyfe
Goodnight, StatMan. Be kind to yourself tomorrow.
I close the app and set my phone down. The ice pack has gone warm against my shoulder.
I should have kept my mouth shut with Scout instead of snapping at her for trying to help. She was right. I took the bait. Again.
Tomorrow I'll do better.