18. Benji
Benji
We’ve stepped off the plane and into a winter wonderland.
The ski-in ski-out townhomes we’ve rented every year for the last three years are mostly windows, offering a view of the endless, rolling mountains of snow, dotted with green.
It’s still light out, and it’s a bluebird day, the bright blue of the sky contrasting with the expanse of white blanketing the mountains.
Within the rentals, everything is geared toward coziness. There are fluffy throws draped over every piece of furniture, and dark wood trim frames out a welcoming fireplace, ready to be turned on and enjoyed.
My gaze sweeps over the place, memories from previous years playing behind my eyes. Normally, coming to the mountains instantly transports me away from my regular worries and strains. This year, however, one lingers.
The last time I was here, I roomed with a couple of teammates that were getting called up to the show more often than not, including my brother. It was their last official rendezvous with the Leopards. That was just a few short weeks before…
“You have the list?” Jordie slaps my shoulder, pulling me away from a potential spiral.
He and Levi are my roomies for this trip, with Grant, Nils, and Highcloud sharing the townhome next door, and Lisa and Andi on the other side.
The rest of our team is scattered in other townhomes with their partners, or opted not to come.
Though we’re all a team, we do break off into different facets outside of the rink.
It never bothered me as captain, personally.
We all get along when the skates are put on, and there can be such a thing as too much team-building.
If it’s forced, people can grow resentful.
So, I’m glad to see my team happily leading their own lives.
Maybe I should have opted out of this weekend, too.
I try to shake that thought off and nod in response to Jordie’s question. “Don’t worry, bud, I’ll see to it you’re fed this weekend.” I wave the slip of paper in my hand, lined with hyper-specific food requests.
“Wait, you’re getting food for everyone?” Andi asks from the front of the townhome, her brow furrowing in confusion.
Highcloud gives her a one-shouldered shrug.
“Well, we’ll have our team-building dinner in town tonight, but otherwise, we have to follow our meal plans this weekend.
If we don’t eat what our nutritionist tells us to, we’ll get in trouble when we get back.
”Lisa’s mouth drops open. “You have a nutritionist?”
“We don’t get these bodies by mistake,” Grant croons, shooting Andi a wink. “The game is faster than ever. So we need to be better than ever. A good diet is the secret weapon.”
“Not all of us can pull a Wayne Gretzky,” Jordie puts in. At Andi’s questioning look, he adds, “His pre-game ritual was to slam four hot dogs and a Diet Coke.”
I snort, and Lisa gives me an imploring look. I know what she’s thinking – why, then, did I house down a burger and milkshake with her, not long ago?
Something tells me I shouldn’t admit that I would’ve done anything to put her at ease that day, including obliterating the meal plans our nutritionist had outlined for me, down to every macro.
Instead, I drawl, “Well, there’s nothing wrong with a cheat day here and there.”
“To each their own.” Grant slings his bag back over his shoulder. “Should we go check out our separate digs, ladies?”
Andi nods and tugs on Lisa. “I can’t wait!”
As they leave our townhome, Jordie turns to me, concern clear in his expression. When he speaks, his tone is low enough that only I can hear. “Are you doing all right? Seems like you’re pretty in your head right now.”
I hesitate for a moment, the lie of I’m fine jumping to the tip of my tongue. But it’s just Jordie and me here. If anyone deserves the truth, it’s him. He’s been with me through it all.
I sigh and brace myself against the wall.
“I don’t know, man. There are so many memories here.
” I think it over for a minute, grief panging through me as I try to form words for what I’m feeling.
“They’re all such amazing memories, but I think that makes it harder.
Knowing everything good that happened here won’t happen again. ”
My voice cracks on the final words, and Jordie studies me silently for a long moment. Finally, he strides forward and tugs me roughly into an embrace. I’m caught off guard, but I tighten my arms around him, accepting the support he’s offering.
He claps his hand across my back and whispers, “I get it, man. I miss him, too.” When he pulls back, he gives me a grim smile. “But I think you’re doing the right thing here. You’re with us, ready to make some new memories. He’d want that, wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah.” I can barely form the words as emotion tightens my throat. “He would.”
“So let’s do it. Let’s make sure you have an amazing time this weekend.
” Jordie’s gaze lowers to the list in my hand, and he snatches it from me.
“Starting with adding twice as much beer to this list. If we’re going to make good memories, they’re going to include some booze.
Even if it’s just us making sure Grant gets hammered enough to make a fool of himself in front of Andi. ”
My quick burst of laughter is choked, but this time from affection for my teammate. My best friend. “I think we can manage that.”
When we arrive back from our full team dinner, we discover that our beer supply has already been tapped into by our two tag-alongs. That isn’t nearly as surprising, however, as what they’re doing while they drink.
They’re watching hockey.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a hockey game on your screen?” Grant plops down next to Andi on the couch, cracking a beer open and glancing between her and the screen. Sure enough, it’s an NHL game, but to my knowledge, neither girl is a fan of either team playing.
“Well, see, we put it on because we wanted to understand the sport better,” Andi explains, curling against Grant.
He drapes an arm over her immediately, tucking her into him, and fuck if he doesn’t look like the happiest guy in the world.
I feel a pang of jealousy at the simple interaction.
“But then we discovered something amazing.”
“What’s that?” Levi asks. He and Jordie grab a drink and plop down on the loveseat next to the sofa.
“That it can easily become a drinking game.” Lisa giggles, and the sound is like music to my ears. I can’t help but smile. The joy in her tone is absolutely infectious. There’s an opening on the couch next to her, and I consider claiming it.
“A drinking game?” Grant asks.
“Yep,” Andi says, popping the ‘p’ on the word. “The announcers are always saying something inappropriate. So we just drink every time there’s an innuendo.”
On cue, one announcer muses “He goes down early,” as the camera pans in on one team’s goalie, replaying a save he made. The other announcer agrees. “Yeah, he sure does.”
Andi hollers and lifts her drink, taking a dramatic swig. Lisa laughs again and snorts, reminding me of the last time she laughed with me, and that’s it. I’m decided.
I swing by the counter to grab a beer, joining her on the couch. It shifts as I take a seat, pulling her in close enough that our thighs are nearly touching.
Lisa eyes my beer as I settle in beside her. I tense, waiting for her to ask me to move, but instead she asks, “If your diet is so strict, why are you allowed to drink?”
I take a long swig. “Because even though we’re professional athletes, we’re adults, and we can decide how we relieve our tension after a hard game. Even if it means a beer or two.”
“Or five,” Grant adds, “if it’s a bye week.”
“Do you not get in trouble for getting drunk?” Andi asks.
“The better you are, the more tolerant coaches are with the shit you do.” Nils motions to the screen to highlight the best of the best, some of which are definitely known to overconsume off the ice.
“As long as you stay out of trouble and get the job done, they generally turn a blind eye to any shenanigans.”
“And morning skates keep most of us from wanting to be too hungover,” Highcloud adds with a laugh.
The crowd suddenly roars at something on screen, and I glance up to see back-to-back hits taking place. “This is brutal,” Lisa says, cringing as a massive hit makes the boards ripple, bowing in on the two players duking it out for the puck. “How do you deal with all that?”
“Lots of ice baths, ice bags, and acupuncture,” Grant replies, cracking his neck in emphasis. “And it’s worth every ache.”
Lisa shakes her head with a soft laugh. “You all are a different breed.”
We settle in to watch, taking turns answering the girls’ questions about the game. I sip and observe Lisa, soaking in her curiosity. With all the questions, she seems to genuinely enjoy the game. Even as she cringes at some of the worst hits, she rarely turns her eyes from the screen.
As we sit and drink, our thighs gradually touch, and neither of us pull back from the contact.
I’m tempted to test it, to push against her or place my hand on her thigh, but I don’t risk it.
Instead, I pretend I’m not focusing on the heat of her thigh against mine, channeling my interest into the game.
Lisa seems to be doing the same, whether on purpose like me or simply due to her newfound interest in the sport.
She sucks in a breath at another hit, and I wonder absently if she would be concerned about me, if she were to watch another one of our games.
I like the idea of her keeping an eye on me during the game, and offering to soothe my aches and pains afterwards.
My mind ventures into dangerous territory, visualizing her hands on my body, and I have to shift slightly in my seat.
I try to tune into the game they’re playing, listening intently as the announcers dig themselves into an even larger hole.
“Their D is exceptional tonight; truly, outstanding work!”
The girls laugh again and this time, we’re all joining in, raising our beers in unison. As the game goes on, it gets more ridiculous and harder to ignore how easily this game can become a dangerous – and hilarious – drinking game.
“It’s really hard when they’re coming at you from behind – ”
The girls raise their drinks again, howling louder.
“There’s a nice tight tunnel for them to get their sticks into – ”
At this point, Andi is clutching her sides and Lisa is wiping tears from her eyes, each new breath triggering another bout of laughter.
It’s absolute chaos, but it’s hysterical, and as I wheeze in an attempt to catch my own breath, my eyes meet Jordie’s across the room.
His eyes crinkle happily as he laughs along with us, and I know what we’re both thinking.
It’s only the first night, but already, these are the kind of memories we so desperately needed. This may turn out to be a wonderful weekend, after all.
“Do you think they even know who’s winning?” Grant leans over to ask me with a chuckle.
Andi hiccups and raises her beer, clinking it against his. “We are, my friend. We are.”