I understood needing something therapeutic. Me? I worked out.
As with any relationship with the opposite sex, whether you're friends or lovers, the conversation eventually ended up intimate. "Do you have a girlfriend? I can't imagine she'd be too happy with you coming here every day."
"No." I laughed. "No girlfriend."
"So what about you? Any boyfriends that I need to worry about coming in here?" I asked, suddenly very intent on the television. I didn't know why I asked that fucking question. Stupidity again. She had already told me about her deal in Oregon with her last boyfriend, but I still asked.
"No, you're safe," she said dryly.
"Really?"
"I only just moved here and before that I was in a long relationship. He left after my family…well, you know. He was a *. When I got here, I immediately started working at Ballet Chicago and then met Blake Keldrick, one of the dance instructors who allowed me to take classes while I worked. I didn't do much but clean-up after and train the younger girls. Blake was helping me get back on my feet. He wasn't my boyfriend or anything, but I lived with him and his wife, Sena."
You could see the confusion in her eyes trying to remember anything about that night, but she couldn't; the memories just weren't there. When I saw the tears, I tried to think of anything I could to change the subject, mentally smacking myself for the slip-up. She didn't need this shit right now.
"Listen," I said quietly, leaning forward to touch her hand that was near the edge of the bed. Her fingers curled around mine. "I'm sorry I brought that up. Let's talk about something else."
She seemed to brush the thoughts and tears away quickly, a glimmer of a smile was there. "Tell me about hockey."
I leaned back in the chair before I spoke, wanting to give her a feel for the sport. Choosing my words carefully, I explained why I loved it through the sights, smells, actions, and more importantly, the heart that went into the sport. Through all my memories and stories about my life, she listened intently, smiling.
When I left that night, I waited until she had fallen asleep. Detective Paulsen was there in the lobby on another case, and I stopped to talk to him.
"Listen, she said something about a guy named Blake…have you questioned him?"
"Blake Keldrick?"
"Yeah I guess so."
"Yes, he's the dance instructor at Ballet Chicago. He's was the last person she was spotted with. He was brought into custody and questioned but released. His DNA wasn't a match, and his story for the evening matched the witness reports."
"So who was he?"
"Evan, this is really none of your business," Paulsen said, appearing annoyed. "I'm not sure the attachment you have to this girl is healthy. She's had something horrible happen to her. There's no sense in making matters worse for her."
"So having the douche that hurt her on the streets is okay with you?" Defensive, I stepped forward, my chest inches from his, and his eyes flickered with the slightest bit of intimidation for me. "Tell me, Paulsen, how do you sleep at night knowing there are guys like that on the street walking around with your wife and daughter?"
"Don't make this personal, Evan."
I didn't appreciate his tone. I wanted to teach him a fucking lesson about telling a hockey player not to make something personal.
"See, that's where you're wrong. It's not personal. It's the right thing to do."
"Could have fooled me," he said, getting arrogant. "You seem awfully attracted to her."
I wanted to punch a cop. I really wanted to punch a cop.
Don't punch a cop. Don't punch a cop.
I didn't punch the cop. I wanted to be allowed back in this hospital, and I thought for sure he wouldn't allow it had I punched him. What I couldn't understand was why the guy hadn't been caught yet. I also knew, and tried to remember, this happened all the time. Ami wasn't the first girl that had been raped, and she certainly wouldn't be the last, sadly.
Blind Pass – To pass the puck without looking.
Ami was just a week shy of getting released, but they said she needed to have supervision. I wasn't sure how it happened, but my mom found out, came to the hospital, and talked Ami into staying with her for a few weeks. Ami was so carefree and loveable she agreed right away.
"What were you thinking?" I asked my mom when I saw her outside Ami's room the afternoon she convinced her of this.
My mom smiled. Though my words were accusing, maybe appearing as if I was upset, I wasn't. My mom did shit like this all the time. When I was playing in the Major Juniors, she was constantly letting guys who were recently traded to my team stay with us. She liked helping people. I was a lot like my mother in that regard.
"Evan, that girl needs you and she needs someone to watch over her. You can't do that all the time, and I wanted her to feel like if she needed a mother around, I would be there."