Grabbing my gloves and my stick, I skate out onto the ice. My skates glide over the shiny surface; there is nothing quite like skating on fresh ice—I mean, it comes after pond ice, which is the best thing I’ve ever skated on. During Christmas break we’ve started to rent houses up north where the family skates all day long. It’s the best.
My eyes scan the people standing around by the boards, fans holding up signs and banging on the window. I don’t see her. I stand on the side, waiting for someone to pass me the puck before I skate to the goalie and take a shot. I’m skating back to the side when I look up to the seats she has tickets for, and then I see her. Standing there wearing black pants and a black leather jacket with a scarf around her neck, she has her hair loose and looks ahead with a beer in her hand. The one thing she is missing is the jersey with my name on it. All in due time, I tell myself as I wait for her to find me on the ice. When she does, my face goes into the biggest smile I think I’ve ever had. So big my cheeks hurt. I give her a chin up and then smirk at her.
In true Sofia fashion, she holds one hand up and flips me the bird. I throw my head back and laugh at the top of my lungs before she turns to talk to the woman beside her. The same woman I saw this afternoon when I showed up. “Could be worse, she could have come with a guy,” I tell myself as I skate off the ice for us to get it ready for the game.
I skate to the middle of the ice, the sounds of the crowd cheering for us. I hold my stick in both hands as I wait for the referee to come over with the puck. Cole, my center man, stands there ready to go. I am on his right and Nick is on his left. “Let’s play a clean game,” the referee says to both teams. I put my stick on the ice and wait for the puck to drop.
The second the puck touches the ice, the music shuts off. Cole loses the face-off, giving Toronto the puck. The defenseman skates the puck into the neutral zone and then passes it across the ice to the right side. My stick comes out, trying to block it, but it is too short. They bring the puck in the zone, setting up their play. The guy takes a shot on the net and it bounces off the goalie’s pad and goes toward the right side. The defenseman coming into the zone grabs the puck, turns, and passes it to the middle of the ice, but Cole intercepts it. I’m already out of the zone with him as the defenseman follows us. He speeds up in the neutral zone as he passes me the puck. I take it over the blue line, passing it back over to Cole who is closer to the goalie. Instead of taking a shot on the goalie, he quickly passes it back to me and I put it in the back of the net. The red light in back goes on at the same time the fans jump to their feet. Those around the glass slap it to celebrate with us. I put my leg up before I skate over to Cole, jumping on him. The crowd goes wild as I look up at Sofia and give her another chin up. She just shakes her head and she claps her hands. Football, my ass, I think to myself as I head over to the bench and skate down the line, high-fiving everyone.
The three periods are over, and we end up winning four to two. It’s always a good time after you win. I’m named first star, so I skate around the rink, tossing three pucks into the stands. Saving the last one for her section, I toss it over the glass toward her but it is snatched out of the air way before it even gets to her.
I rush to the locker room and take my phone, sending her a text before the media is let into the room.
Meet me downstairs.
I press send, waiting for a second, and when I don’t see the three dots pop up, I call her. Dialing her number, I put my finger to my other ear to block out the sound of the guys celebrating while I walk into the hallway, where it’s a bit quieter. She answers after three rings. “Hello,” she says and I can hear people around her.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Trying to get out of here.” She laughs. “Where are you?”
“I’m in the locker room,” I tell her. “Come meet me.”
“Don’t push your luck,” she says, chuckling.
“Come on, I need to thank you for showing up.” I look around. “Plus, I have a puck here.”
She laughs. “Go toward the escalator that leads to downstairs,” I instruct her. “Once there, follow the signs that bring you to media.”
“Ugh,” she groans, and I hear rustling from her end. “Five minutes—I have to be somewhere,” she says, and I squeeze my phone tighter.
“See you soon,” I say and hang up before I piss her off by asking her a million questions about who she’s meeting.
I stand here at the entrance of the media corridor, hearing some of the fans walk by, my back pressed against the wall. The drops of water from my hair fall onto my jersey. I peek my head out and then I see her walking around the corner with that girl, the two of them talking and laughing together. I get a chance to look at her without her knowing and it all makes sense to me now. Everything my father said to me when I asked him how he knew my mother was the one.
“You aren’t supposed to think you found the one. You are supposed to know. If it’s the one, there isn’t that question. There aren’t any questions, it just is. There is no second-guessing when you know it’s the one.”
He’s so fucking right. It’s nothing that I can explain. It isn’t like it’s written in a book or flashing lights are pointing at it. You just know, and standing here watching her, my stomach gets tight, my chest contracts, and I feel like I can walk on water.
She must sense me looking at her because she turns her head toward me. She looks around and then holds up a finger to tell me to wait a minute, while she then points up toward the ladies’ bathroom. I nod my head at her as she disappears from my sight.
“Damn,” I hear from beside me, seeing Brady from Toronto standing there still in his gear. The only thing off is his skates. The opponent’s locker room is right next to where I’m standing.
“Who’s the chick?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Fuck off, Brady.” I motion with my head toward his changing room. Brady all but laughs in my face and claps his hands.
“If she was yours, would you even have to tell me to fuck off?” He pokes the bear with a stick. I stand, going toe-to-toe with him, but because I still have my skates on, I’m taller than him.
“Let me put this in words that you are going to understand,” I say between clenched teeth. A couple of people from Toronto have stuck their heads out of the room. “If you even go next to her, I’m going to make sure you are eating from a straw for the next four months.”
He chuckles and is about to say something when the captain of the team comes out and grabs Brady by his shirt. “Go get changed,” he tells Brady.
I stare into his eyes. “Is that clear enough for you?” Brady takes one more look at me before he turns and heads back to the room. The minute he walks away from me, another thing hits me, shocking me even more—my uncle Matthew has been right about everything.
sofia
I flush the toilet and walk out to wash my hands at the same time Addison rushes back into the bathroom. I put my hand under the soap dispenser and I’m about to wash my hands when I see her face. “I think we should go,” she urges, looking over her shoulder and I’m afraid something happened to her.
I put my hands under the stream of water to rinse off the soap. “Is everything okay?” I ask before walking over and snatching some brown paper from the dispenser and drying my hands.
“We shouldn’t go out there,” she says and looks over at the doorway.
“Why?” I ask.
“You know your guy?” she asks, her voice going low as she wrings her hands in front of her.
“He’s not my guy,” I correct her, and she just rolls her eyes at me.
“Okay, well, the guy who wants you and you want him,” she states. “He literally threatened a guy who was asking about you.”
“Why?” I gasp, shocked. “What?”
“He’s going to be eating from a straw.” My mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. She fans herself now. “I haven’t been with anyone since my daughter was conceived, but if you weren’t interested in him…” She winks at me, making me glare.