“…trying to protect her… don’t understand what they’re like…”
“I know very well. Trina’s father was a hockey-playing piece of shit.”
In the kitchen, my mom is listening to Christmas carols while she bakes.
“Look, I have muffins!” My mom parades me through the kitchen to look at the basket of baked goods she’s made. She turns up the music to drown out my dad and Granny yelling at each other. “I made Rhode Islanders in a blanket. The dipping sauce has sriracha in it to make it the team colors.”
“Looks amazing, Mom.” My mom has given each wiener sesame-seed eyes and a little hat made out of celery. “We need to adopt you a kitten or something.”
“Or a grandchild.” My mom grins at me.
“Don’t look at me. I’m grumpy.”
“You said you always wanted to be a mom. You’re so good with children.” She cups my face. “I saw you when you took the babies out when you worked at the Sunshine House. You were so good with them. You were born to be a mom.”
“Well, maybe my dream man will crawl up the side of the house into the bedroom. Oh wait, that already happened, and it was some guy Granny Murray invited over.” I wipe at my greasy forehead. “Can she not stay in one of the other bedrooms?”
“Then where would your siblings stay when they come over? I want them to feel welcome. And the guest room is for guests.”
“Right.” I sigh. I pick up one of the pigs in a blanket.
Mom slaps it out of my hand. “Those are for the players.”
“You’re going to let the Direwolves players eat Rhode Islanders in a blanket? Sounds morbid.” My sister stumbles in, yawning. “Are you all always up this early?” Maxie adds.
“Granny Murray is up at five,” I tell her.
“Yikes, glad I moved out.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to have a job relevant to your degree…”
“No, these are for your players.” Mom smiles as I lower the hors d’oeuvre away from my mouth.
“Mom—”
“It’s your first day, sweetie.” Mom kisses me noisily on the top of my head. “Everyone likes the girl who brings snacks.”
“Trina!” My dad pushes his way past my brothers, shirtless, their hair a mess.
Adam opens the fridge and grabs the jug of milk and proceeds to down the whole thing.
“Hey! He’s drinking all of it,” Jace complains.
“There’s more milk in the other fridge.”
“Mom, can you make them wear a shirt?” Angie complains.
“Trina, Ellie can’t bring snacks to NHL practice,” Nate argues.
Jace punches Adam in the stomach, and milk sprays all over the fridge.
“Go outside!” my mother screams. “Out!”
They groan. “It’s freezing cold!”
“Out!”
“Ellie.” My dad shoves my brothers out the door and grabs a wet rag. “This is a serious deal. I’ve been on the phone all night.” Granny Murray mocks him with her hand as my dad rails. “Everyone in the NHL office is appalled that Dana Holbrook even put you in this position. I’ve been on the phone with the chairman of the NHL, and we have a game plan. There’s going to be a press conference, and you’re going to tell them—”
