Chapter 12
ROWAN
Unlike Rowan’s rookie season, he no longer gave a fuck about what other people thought about him.
He’d gotten chirped by his teammates when he was a kid for lugging around his big camera, but he was an older guy now, and he was also Rowan Foley.
And as much as he hated that sometimes, nowadays, it mostly meant people didn’t give him shit for much.
Taking photos was a habit, and he knew he needed to get back into the practice.
He wanted to use it as an excuse to explore San Jose, and let his folks know he was okay.
He set up a new private Instagram for his mom to follow, and he’d been posting photos there for his audience of one.
Having something to do in San Jose made a difference.
He hadn’t realized how much of his life in Texas was filled up with golf and axe throwing, or whatever other weird shit Felix liked to go out and do.
Now, he had to make his own things to do. He found a museum and looked up a self-guided walking tour of the city. He went to a wine tasting at a vineyard. He was collecting photos of these things like he’d collected hockey cards as a kid.
He spent one afternoon going house hunting in Santa Cruz, but houses were so expensive in the Silicon Valley area, and he wasn’t finding anything he loved.
One afternoon after morning skate, Rowan was tossing stuff back into his backpack, when Aaron, one of the third-liners, cautiously approached him.
“What’s up, man?” Rowan asked. By now, he knew all the guys well enough to function on a team with them. Aaron was one of the kids who had kept a little distance from him.
“Mateo and I were wondering if you wanted to grab lunch.” He looked back at Mateo, who was still at his own stall, observing. It was a little sweet, if Rowan was being honest. He remembered being young and in this league, meeting the guys he had admired as a kid.
“Yeah, for sure,” Rowan said. “You gotta drive me around, though. Vic is usually my chauffeur. You know how to drive?”
“Ha ha,” Aaron said. “We can go wherever. It’s on me.”
“I’ve been craving Chipotle,” Rowan said. He knew how much these kids made. He wasn’t going to let them waste their money on him.
“Awesome,” Mateo said, coming up behind Aaron and putting a hand on his shoulder. Sometimes the two of them reminded him of himself and Felix. Inseparable best friends. He hoped it lasted as long as it could for them. The league was ruthless, and did not care about your friendships.
Mateo drove a big gray pickup truck, and he spent the first five minutes listening to Aaron and Mateo bicker about what should be on the stereo.
“My car, my rules.”
“I’m your copilot. It’s my job to take care of anything that isn’t operating the vehicle.”
“Your taste is so questionable, bro.”
“You just don’t want to hear me sing along, and that is so hurtful.”
“We don’t have to listen to anything,” Rowan said from the back seat. Aaron had tried to make him take the passenger seat, but he was glad he was avoiding their crossfire.
Aaron and Mateo lived in a bit of a different section of the city from Rowan, so he had never been to this Chipotle. It was bustling with young professionals on their lunch break. Lots of hoodies.
“Did either of you go to college?” Rowan asked as he stirred up the contents of his burrito bowl.
“Mateo did. Bio major.”
Mateo rolled his eyes. “I was a nothing major. I majored in hockey.”
“You still know, like, all the muscle groups and shit.”
“I took one anatomy class.”
Rowan knew enough about his teammates’ careers to know that Mateo and Aaron came into the league at the same time, even if Aaron was a year older than Mateo. It was almost exactly like him and Felix. He knew the kind of bond that could come out of this lifestyle.
“Would you ever go?” Aaron asked Rowan back.
“Nah.”
“He doesn’t have to go to college, dipshit, he’s making a bazillion dollars.”
“He might want to!”
“I don’t think I’m interested in anything enough to get a degree in it. At least academic interest. I’m sure you relate, but since I was a kid, it’s been all hockey, all the time. It’s hard to care about anything else, which I know is a problem. I don’t recommend it.”
“It’s working for you,” Aaron argued. There were few people on earth Rowan wanted to watch eat a burrito and Aaron Cameron, he was learning, was not one of them.
“I see you guys on the ice at the rink. I know you work hard and take it seriously. You’re doing great. But if I can impart to you anything, it’s having something off the ice you care about.”
“What’s your thing?” Mateo asked.
“I don’t know how much I have a thing, honestly. That’s part of the problem.”
Aaron once again opened his full mouth. “You’ve had that camera recently. What’s that about?”
Rowan shook his head. “My mom bought it for me in junior so I would send her pictures. And because I think she knew I needed a hobby. I found it in my closet when we were in Calgary.” He would spare them the details about his shrine to Theo Lane.
“That’s so cool. What are you going to do with them?”
“Nothing. I just send them to my mom still,” Rowan said.
“I don’t want a thing I’m responsible for, a goal.
But taking photos forces me to look around and notice things, which I haven’t always been good at.
I’ve always got blinders on. I’m always thinking about the play I fucked up, or how the next game is going to go.
Since I have this whole new city to get to know, I figured I might as well get out there and look at it. ”
“We should get cameras,” Aaron said, turning to Mateo like the two of them had been handed a secret. It wasn’t exactly the message he was trying to impart, but hey, maybe it would help them the way it helped him.