Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ASH
T he game starts with a trick play. The quarterback tosses the ball to Sonny, and everyone descends on him. But Sonny tosses it back to Rusty, who runs in small but confident steps on the ice and makes a fast break. He's about to cross into the end zone when Philip throws his body forward on the ice. He zooms into Rusty's legs, causing Rusty to tip forward as Philip grabs and trips him. They slide into the end zone together before Rusty falls.
"Touchdown!" the announcer yells.
But Philip doesn't care. They both get up to their knees, and Philip grabs Rusty and puts him in a headlock.
"He can't do that!" I jump up screaming.
"Course he can," a woman says from in front of me. "This is Double H, sweetheart. The fights are the best part. Fight! Fight! Fight!" she starts yelling.
And to my absolute shock, they do.
Philip is trying to pull Rusty's jersey over his head, but Rusty goes limp and twists out of his grip. A moment later, he pops back up to his knees and smashes his fist into Philip's helmet, who falls backward on the ice.
The referee slides over and breaks up the fight.
I'm totally gobsmacked, but the rest of the arena is laughing and cheering, including all of my friends.
All of them.
The announcers — Dewey and Darryl — are laughing over the loudspeaker.
"In true Double H tradition, we're starting the game with a good ol' fashioned brawl!" Dewey says. "Rusty Fielding with the Mullet Ridge Dirtbags has rung the starting bell of Philip Dumfries, playing for the Battle Creek Badgers."
"You know," Daryl says, "I think this is the first time we've seen fan-players start the opening brawl." He chuckles. "I'm guessing these two have a score to settle."
Dewey gives a belly laugh. "Mark my words, it's about a girl."
"I don't know," Daryl says. "Dumfries coulda said he prefers Hellman's mayo to Duke's."
"Ooh hoo hoo! Them's fightin' words, all right!"
The ref blows his whistle and sends them both into the penalty box — because why not include a penalty box in an ice football game? — and Rusty and Philip are both sent into it for ninety seconds.
"If I'd have known the only consequence for punching Philip in the face was a minute and a half in a penalty box, I'd have punched that alpha-hole a long time ago," Jane says.
My laugh is weak, because as much as thoughts of Philip have consumed too many hours of my life, I'm hardly thinking of him at all. "Rusty punched someone."
"That's ice football for you," Duke says, leaning forward so he can talk to me past Millie. "They only play during the hockey and football off seasons. It's a way for the rinks in the area to keep making money and for the locals to get out of the heat. But it's all about the audience experience. That's why they let fans play. Some people want to relive their glory days, others want to perform in front of a crowd. It lets them act out their childhood fantasies of beating someone up without doing real damage."
"Says the guy who plays a violent sport for a living," Lou says.
"You talk a big game for someone who knows my stats better than a bookie," Duke says. Lou shrugs. She loves football. "They're all in hockey pads. They'll get banged up more falling on the ice than they will fighting."
"Rusty could have broken his hand on Philip's helmet," I say.
"Then he probably shouldn't punch someone wearing a helmet," Duke says. "Otherwise, these guys can't pick up enough speed to? — "
Even as Duke says this, Tripp takes two steps and bodyslams a player. Tripp's feet slide out from under him and he falls and spins on the ice several times. His opponent goes flying across the ice, smashes into the boards, and crumples.
"I stand corrected," Duke says.
Lou laughs hysterically and zooms in. "This is my favorite sport. Forget the NFL. I'm all about football hockey."
"Ice football," Duke corrects.
"Same difference."
The Dirtbags are playing defense now, and the first few plays for the Badgers end with the quarterback falling on his butt. Finally, Rusty and Philip are allowed back in. I watch Rusty walk and slide back into place. A few moments later, the Badgers' center hikes the ball to the quarterback. He catches the ball this time while Rusty's team scrambles and falls all over the ice. The quarterback tosses the ball to Philip, who catches it. Two of the Dirtbags try to tackle him, but they both miss and fall, instead.
Philip keeps the ball, taking tiny little steps to run. He looks like a toddler trying to escape a bathtub on tile. He slips and wobbles, but he manages to stay upright as he heads toward the end zone.
Unfortunately for Philip, Rusty is way more comfortable running on ice than anyone should be. He plants his feet differently than the others, and he makes a lot more ground than Philip does.
Philip is a few yards from scoring when Rusty comes at him at an angle. Rusty jumps into a slide and smashes Philip, causing a? —
"FUMBLE!" the announcer yells.
Rusty jumps onto the ball and slides into the boards. But Philip gets onto his knees and crawls — which is even stupider looking on ice — to Rusty. Then he punches him in the back.
"FOUL!" I scream, jumping up and pointing.
The ref slides over and pulls Philip off, putting him in the penalty box, this time for two minutes.
With the change of possession, the Dirtbags get the ball and our quarterback throws it to Sonny. One of the defenders jumps to try to intercept it, but his feet slip apart when he lands, pulling his legs into the splits. Duke hisses in sympathy as we all laugh.
Sonny catches the ball neatly. A defender chases him down and launches himself forward, but Sonny stiff arms the guy, who falls to the ice. The motion pushes Sonny off-balance, though, and as he hurdles toward the end zone, he throws one leg and the opposite arm out, looking like the world's worst figure skater as he tries to regain balance.
But he holds onto the ball as he slides into the end zone.
"TOUCHDOWN!" Daryl yells.
"That's my man!" Parker yells.
The game continues, and we all watch in a mix of shock and awe. Because this is without a doubt the least athletic-looking display of athleticism anyone has ever seen .
With every play, a half dozen grown men fall on their butts, their backs, or their faces. Guys grab jerseys and throw each other down in displays of brute strength just to have the guy they toppled grab their leg and drop them, too. They smash each other into the boards, taunt, and use gestures they wouldn't like their mommas seeing, and all the while, the arena laughs, boos, and cheers.
When Philip is back in, the teams trade a few touchdowns. Tripp, Rusty, and Sonny all drive Philip into the boards a couple of times. Their kickers fall on their butts after every extra-point attempt.
It's amazing.
Lou has laugh-cried through her makeup.
Parker cackles while she records Sonny's every move.
Jane laughs and cheers Tripp on.
And of course, my friends all laugh hysterically whenever Philip drops to the ice.
By halftime, the score is 33-19 for the Dirtbags.
Jane, Parker, and I hop up to get snacks from the concession stand. I hold Rusty's sweatshirt tight around my body as the adrenaline of watching him seems to wear off and the chill in the arena sets in.
"How are you liking the game?" Jane asks when we reach the line.
"If it doesn't become the next big sport in America, we will have failed future generations," I say.
"Rusty's the best player out there and he's not even on the team," Parker says. "Your boy missed his calling."
"Okay, speaking of that, is he like a secret agent, or something? Suddenly in the last week, I've found out he's on a first-name basis with everyone at Donegal's bar, he hangs out there and cooks with them for fun sometimes, and — P.S. — he's crazy good at cooking. He played hockey for like four years, and is Lottie's assistant coach. Also, he's easily the best kisser I've ever met and is a scary good actor. He's so convincing, I almost believe we're in love. Do I even know him?"
"Of course you know him," Parker says. "You just haven’t seen him fully."
"What do you mean?"
Parker sighs. "You know how I always told you guys that I hate letting people see me cry? It's because I didn't want people to see me as weak and flawed and broken. I didn't want to be seen. I think Rusty wants to be seen by you, but he only shows you the parts you're ready to see."
Her words sting like that one time I tried hiking in Arizona and tripped into a cactus. They have barbs that make it impossible to remove them easily.
"Ash, what does Rusty do?" Jane asks.
"Well, he has a degree in graphic design and was working at an advertising firm in Atlanta until Arlo broke his leg a couple years ago. His parents asked him to come home and help them run the fruit stands for Tripp."
Jane's half-smile is a new cactus poking into me. "His parents do run a couple of fruit stands, but Rusty’s their boss. Actually, he’s their boss’s boss’s boss. He’s the VP of Distribution and Retail Operations for all of Sugar Maple Farms. Yes, he's over fruit stands and farmer's markets, but also so much more. He started a subscription box service and established partnerships with retail management companies for half of downtown Atlanta. He occasionally runs a fruit stand so he can keep his fingers on the pulse of the operations, but he's in charge of a department that does hundreds of millions of dollars in revenue annually."
"Wait, Rusty's in charge and he lets his dad work for him?"
"That's what you got from this conversation?" Parker asks.
"I don't care if he's wiping his nose with thousand dollar bills," I say, because who could care about that? "I care that Arlo is still in his life. Why would he do that? "
Jane frowns. "Because Rusty loves his mom, and for whatever reason, she's hitched her wagon to Arlo and isn't leaving now. As long as Arlo's sober and his mom is safe, Rusty employs him."
"Sober? Safe? I know Rusty called Arlo a bully, but?—"
" Bully is putting it mildly," Jane says. Tears spring to my eyes, angry, horrified, heartbroken tears. "Arlo is a recovering alcoholic, and I give him props for getting sober. Sober or not, though, he's mean. He's only as respectful as he has to be to Tripp and me to keep his job. But nastiness comes out sometimes, and his wife just pats his arm. I think she likes having something to hold over him after all these years."
"What do you mean?"
"Rusty texts her every morning and night to see if Arlo has gotten physical. And when Rusty pays them, all of it goes into an account that Rusty and his mom are on. Arlo doesn't have a penny without them."
Parker's eyebrows are as high as my eyes are wide.
"I had no idea. I watched him punch Philip and all I could think was that I didn't know Rusty had an ounce of aggression in him because he's so nice. But that's absurd. Have I put him into a box where he's not even allowed to be human?"
We're at the counter now. Jane gives me an understanding smile and starts ordering for us.
Parker squeezes my arm. "Maybe. But you've seen more now. You have a wider view. Move forward with it."
I nod half-heartedly. "And you guys all knew this?"
“Not all of it, but more than you seem to have."
"How?"
She blows air out of her lips slowly. "Sonny decided he wanted to be Rusty's friend, so he started hanging around with him and asking him questions and observing. You know Sonny. People are his superpower."
"Why didn't you tell me? "
"Why didn't you ask?"
It's not a mean question, and it doesn't hurt. It makes me think. "Because he was safe. He was the first guy ever not to treat me like some manic pixie dream girl , like Philip used to say I was."
Parker screws up her nose. "Ugh. He called you that?"
"In those exact words.” I roll my eyes. “Rusty friend-zoned me so fast, he didn't feel like a threat. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would eventually change on me, treat me badly, and then leave me, like they always do."
"But you dumped Philip."
I hate when my friends say this. They always applaud me for finally ending things with him. “He was happy to be rid of me because I’m ‘not normal.’” I say, swallowing. Frank used to say things like that to me when we were in public and I couldn’t look or act exactly the way he wanted me to. There’s something wrong with you. Why can’t you be normal?
Jane passes us trays and bags to carry, and we start walking back. “Girl, that’s a badge of honor. We're all weird and messed up. That's what makes us wonderful!"
"It's true," Parker says. She gestures to her four-inch heels as we walk up the stairs. "Do you think I'm fooling anyone with these? They don't actually make me 5'4", but I want you to think they do."
I snort.
"I talk to myself out loud," Jane says. We're pushing past people to get to our seats. "I literally said, 'why is he so hot' to myself in front of Tripp when I first moved out. I said it out loud."
We see our friends up ahead. "Millie is a therapist who couldn't draw a single boundary with her own family."
"And she drinks enough Diet Coke that Duke has started spiking her flavored syrups with electrolytes."
"You what? " Millie asks Duke. We push past them to sit .
"And let's not even start on Hannah Montana over here," Parker says.
Lou drops her jaw. "Excuse me?"
"We're all weird," Jane says. She stuffs popcorn in her face in a way that looks impossibly graceful. "Who the heck wants to be normal?"
I think of my bio dad always trying to make me into some acceptable reflection of him. I think of Greg putting up with me. Of Philip being humiliated that his girlfriend was too much . "Me," I say.
"No you don't," Lou says from my other side. "No one makes you dress a little funky or watch things a little nerdy. You choose that stuff because you like it. Frank pushed ‘normal’ on you for years, and you rejected his brand of fitting in because you like who you are. You don't want someone who thinks you're normal. You want someone who likes you because of who you are, not in spite of it. You want someone who accepts and embraces all of you. Like we do," Lou says, putting her arm around my shoulder and bumping her head against mine.
“Yeah, I really do,” I say.
On the ice, two tractors are racing and smashing into each other like they’re bumper cars. We watch and cheer them on until halftime ends.
I follow the game differently in the second half. I see how Philip goads Rusty and how he responds. He hits, he knocks him over, he smashes him against the boards, but it's nothing compared to what Philip does. He doesn't leave Rusty alone. He targets him. At one point, Sonny catches the ball, and Philip comes after Rusty anyway. Fortunately, Tripp lays him out before he can slam Rusty's head against the ice, or whatever petty revenge he's planning .
Duke is right that this game gives guys the chance to act out their aggressive fantasies. Everyone is getting physical, but Philip takes it to a clownish level.
How did I ever date such a loser ? Someone who preys on people like he does. Someone who plays dirty and is condescending and asks women to look at his abs like he's some kind of frat boy "doin' it for the 'gram."
Rusty is a million times the man Philip is.
So the next time Tripp throws Philip to the ground like he's yesterday's trash, I barely take note. I'm too riveted watching Rusty. And when he slips and falls in the end zone, a part of me falls with him.