His mouth pulled up into a tender smile. “That’s good to know. Okay, so hear me out. I’m not pressuring you into anything, and I know how badly you want to get back on the ice.”
“Meh,” I mumbled, and his eyes flared.
“What?”
“Listen to this.” I straightened my left leg. The knee popped. I winced. The same thing happened when I stretched out my right leg, only that one ground inside just like my hips used to do before cracking like tinder. “Bad joints. More bad joints. More surgery. More recovery.”
“You don’t have to get your knees done now, babe,” he said, taking my left hand between his.
“I think maybe I’m done,” I said after a pause.
“Done with hockey?”
“I am not saying that. I am just…” I blew out a short breath. “I am having a hard time with my brain deciding how to go, or which path to take. Being here with you and the children is amazing. I love our daily things, little things like dog-walking or grocery shopping or just strolling downtown to get coffee hand in hand.”
“I love those too,” he confirmed as he wiggled his fingers between mine.
“But I also am missing the team, the ice, my pipes. Did you know that Lincoln does not speak to them? What must they be thinking?!”
“I’m sure the pipes understand that you’re injured.”
“Hmm, I am not so sure of that. I am not so sure of anything and that is scary.”
“You’ll figure it out, and no matter what you choose, returning to hockey next season or calling it quits, we’ll all be there with you.” He kissed my scarred knuckles then took his spot under my arm. I buried my nose into his curls. Maybe I should go talk to Mrs. Minerva and see what she saw for my future.
Perhaps I would after a few days so that she could forget that my dog had led a canine escape from Alcatraz. I did not want a soothsayer mad at me. They could hex a man so that his peter would wither up and fall off. Mama knew such things to be true and had passed along her knowledge to her two children. I spat twice over my shoulder—the one minus Erik’s head—just in case.
“I think I know where my heart lies,” I whispered into his curls.
“Want to tell me?” he asked and so I did.
* * *
The day of Erik’s celebration I went to morning skate.
Not to skate as my hips were not quite up to that, but to spend some time with the team as I had in the old days. Also, I had to speak to my oldest and dearest friends.
“Privet,” I called as I made my way across the ice. No one was at the practice arena yet. I’d gotten up early with Erik when Noah’s sugar alarm went off at five a.m. Somedays it felt as if we had this diabetes under control, and then some days it felt as if it had us on the run. We’d gotten the children back to sleep, finally, and Erik and Mama as well, but I’d not been able to find rest, so I had dressed, let the dogs out, fed the cats, and then drove across town to the practice facility to have a long, hard talk. “I think you might be mad at me?” I asked the pipes in Russian.
They acted sullen.
These were the ones at the Railers end of the ice, silent under a low spotlight, the rest of the rink dimly lit as I had asked Milton—the Railers maintenance expert—to do for me. Milton and I went way back because he had been here for many years. We’d shared cocoa and doughnuts back in the day.
I moved to the pipes, touching them with bare fingers. They were icy cold. Solid, dependable, and a part of me. Sometimes, when I was in that twilight place between sleep and wakefulness, I could feel them resting on my back. Always there, always sturdy, always on guard.
“I know it has been some time, and that new people have been here,” I whispered, trailing my fingertips along their dented frames. The red paint nicked here and there. “Some of the people who are here do not speak to you. I have told Bryan and Lincoln they must talk to you in Russian. I think they may be talking in English but that is okay, no?”
I ran my hand over the netting, inhaling the smell of the ice. Brittle, cold air touched my cheeks. I let my eyes close as I wrapped my fingers around the crossbar then breathed in and out as if I were Mrs. Minerva reaching out to those on the other side. She’d told me that my life was about to change.
“Do not hold their lack of Russian against them for Bryan and Lincoln are good goalies. They will need your help. I know, I know.” I gave the cold pipe a squeeze. “It is not always easy to say goodbye, but I think… well, my friend, I think it might be time for me to let the new tenders guard your opening.” I paused. “That sounded bad. But I am tired, my friend, and my children need me. Noah is still trying to come to terms with his disease, Margo is about to be fourteen and is in the process of transitioning, so she needs her Papa there for her now more than ever. Eva is grown now and gone but she calls every day and I want to be able to go visit her when the mood strikes. I miss Galina and my little nieces. Mama is not as spry as she once was and Erik… well, he is happy now. I see that joy in him every day and I think that I wish to have that peace in my heart.” I rubbed the cold bar. “Do not feel badly for missing me. We had our time. Now it is for the best that you allow other men into your… I am not sure that will sound much better. I will come visit I promise. I will play in alumni games often so that we can catch up. I will never abandon you. It is just that my family needs me now. I am weary. My soul needs rest, my body is worn out. Please, do be good to the men who follow me. They are Railers.”
I bent down to kiss the crossbar.
“Do you two need a minute?” I heard Tennant calling from somewhere behind me. I turned to find him smirking at me from the home bench still in his street clothes. Our captain. My dearest friend. It seemed right that I speak with Tennant before I go to the coach then to the owner.
I shook my head. “No, I think we are done. I would like to speak with you though if you are having a minute?”
My best friend nodded; his expression wary. I smiled for him then turned to the pipes.
