Page 78 of The Tryout

For the first time in a long time, I find myself stumped at this game – not because there’s nothing I’m grateful for, but because there’s so much I’m grateful for. I go for the one that best encapsulates it all.

“I’m grateful for new friends.”

We continue through a few rounds of this; some of our answers are serious and heartfelt, while others are downright silly. Tony is grateful to be part of a legal system that allows him to raise a child with another man; Daniel is glad that poured concrete countertops are finally going out of style.

My phone vibrates on the table and the name on the text catches my attention.

Jack Kinkaid 8:20 PM

It’s done – two-way deal, three year ELC.

Sending over details now.

We can talk tomorrow when it isn’t a holiday, ok kid?

I look up from my phone, a smile on my face. I can’t help myself.

“I’m grateful for an NHL contract.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AVERY

Before my dads arrived, Finn and I had settled into a nice pattern. Every night, we’d lay on the couch as I iced my knee, usually watching a hockey game. Three or four nights a week, one thing would lead to another, and we’d end up getting one another off, settling into the couch even more comfortably afterward.

As grateful as I am for my dads’ visit, it sort of throws a wrench in all that. Even though they’re not staying with us, it seems like they’re always there.

After Friday’s game, they take us out to celebrate. I managed an assist and Finn – as though wanting to confirm that they made the right choice with his contract renegotiation – put in two goals. When I pointed out that Finn can’t legally drink, Dad did some research and instead took us to a nice ice cream place near their hotel.

Finn’s Brown Butter Cookie Dough looks so good that I grab his hand, bringing the cone to my mouth for a taste. His look of feigned annoyance shoots straight to my groin and I can’t help but want to lick something else. As Pops clears his throat, I wonder exactly how obvious I was.

Saturday’s game isn’t quite as solid; after a few weeks of decent work, Briggs has started slacking off again. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, he’s hung over. His sloppiness results in a turnover right in front of Dolman, who is unable to block the ensuing shot in time. Briggs and Keller are immediately called off the ice, with Novak and I returning on short rest. Even from where I stand on the ice, I can hear Banks tearing into Briggs.

We spend almost two full periods down a goal until Finn is finally able to send one in with five minutes left in the game. As glad as I am for the tying goal, my knee has been having a rough night and I’m not exactly looking forward to the ensuing overtime period.

In the locker room before we go back out, Finn can tell something is wrong.

“Your knee?” he asks quietly, standing at the wall next to me.

“It’s fine.”

He looks at me, clearly knowing it isn’t.

“If you tell Banks…”

“...he’ll think I shouldn’t be playing. I’m fine.”

And I am, mostly. Luckily the overtime period is short and Novak is the first defenseman out for the three-on-three play. As he comes off, I skate on, determined to end this once and for all. We haven’t spent a ton of time practicing three-on-three groupings, and I’m out with Markie and Hedman.

While I start the shift focusing on keeping the puck on the right end of the ice, I soon realize that’s not going to end this game. With Markie and Hedman passing the puck around near the crease, I see the defenseman who’s out for Milwaukee is getting a little tired – making less complete turns and taking their passes for granted rather than thinking of how to break them up.

Their coach will pull him soon, and that will get rid of this tiny opening. Skating up, I tap my stick lightly on the ice, trying to get Markie’s attention without altering the other team. Sure enough, his next pass goes to me instead, and the defenseman takes a second too long to react. I have a decent opening to the goal and I take the shot, erring toward the left where Hedman is standing.

The shot doesn’t go in, but Hedman’s right on the rebound and nudges it past the goalie. The goal light flashes, the game finally over. Skating back to the bench, I can tell that Finn is about sixty percent worry and forty percent joy, patting me on the back while clearly planning to force me to ice my knee within the next ten minutes.

My dads meet us outside the locker room and must be able to see the same thing Finn sees. There is no suggestion of a celebration. And, frankly, I’m thrilled. I mostly want to lay down and do nothing.

“That was great, kiddo. Strong play, good hockey IQ.”