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“You still get a lot of playing time,” Aldo mused, and Elio hid his grin. Aldo tended to think out loud, talking his way through things in a way that didn’t require responses. “So it’s not like you’re bored as a benchwarmer. Hell, even after a couple months out, you’re still one of the scoring leaders on the Rays.”
“I’ve spent a lot of years on the road, away from home,” Elio said. “At what point should I just say I’m getting too old for this shit?”
Aldo scowled. “You’re nowhere near too old. There are some guys who’ve played the game into their forties. You’re only thirty, for God’s sake.”
“I’m going to be thirty-one next month. And while I know that realistically, I have at least a few more good playing years in me; it’s not a question of the body being able.”
“You’re not sure the mind is willing.”
Despite the five-year difference in their ages, Elio had always felt closest to Aldo, who’d never treated him like an annoying little brother but had instead taken their sibling relationship and expanded on it, offering him close friendship as well. Sure, they still gave each other shit, teasing, wrestling, blackmailing whenever a situation called for it or if it was just funny.
Elio had his own apartment in Baltimore, which had been his home for over a decade, but when he came back to Philly, his “room” was in Aldo’s apartment, the two adding roommates to the brothers-and-friends relationship.
“Is that what’s been curtailing your extracurricular bedroom activities, prior to the busted collarbone?”
“Probably,” Elio admitted. “I’ve been distracted and out of sorts. Debating whether or not I want to keep playing the game.”
“Are you talking about hockey or booty calls?” Aldo joked.
Elio chuckled. “Maybe a bit of both. It might shock you to know…I haven’t really missed not having sex. It was starting to feel like more hassle than it was worth.”
No muss, no fuss. That had been his dating motto up until last summer, when he realized he was bored with…fuck…with everything. Hockey, sex, his life.
“What are you thinking about doing? Quitting right now?”
Elio shook his head. “Hell no. I’d finish the season. There’s no way I’d screw the team like that.”
“Then what?” Aldo asked.
Elio shrugged with his good shoulder. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? All I’ve ever done is skate, play hockey.”
Aldo took a sip of beer. “Would you want to coach or something?”
“I don’t know. Not professionally. Because that would defeat the whole purpose of quitting so I can finally come home.”
“You’re a young guy, Elio. Smart, driven. I don’t doubt for a second you could find a second career, something you might even like more than hockey. Besides, it’s not like you’re hurting for money. I know you’ve been socking away a shit-ton of that very healthy paycheck of yours.”
“I have. I wouldn’t have to find another job for a long time if I didn’t want to, if ever.” Elio appreciated Aldo’s support and encouragement. “Hey, listen, man. Right now, this is all a hypothetical thing. I’m not a hundred percent sure I want to hang up my skates. Do you mind keeping this just between us?”
“Of course. But don’t you sort of have to decide soon? Let management know?”
Elio nodded. “Yeah. The clock is definitely ticking on that.”
“When do you have to go back to the team after you get the clean bill of health?”
“Two days after Christmas,” Elio lied. He wasn’t due back quite that soon, but he wanted to take some time for himself. He planned to go to his family’s cabin in the Poconos for a couple days, but he was keeping that information on the down-low because he knew if he told his brother, Aldo would take some time off and join him. Hell, knowing Aldo, he’d invite the rest of the guys, and suddenly Elio would be in a sleeping bag on the floor surrounded by a bunch of bourbon-swilling, cigar-smoking cousins, friends, and brothers. Ordinarily, he loved the camaraderie, but not now.
What he needed now was peace and quiet and a chance to sort out his thoughts. Things always had a way of becoming clear after some time in the crisp mountain air.
His brother caught sight of someone over his shoulder. As Elio turned, Aldo called out, “It’s about time you got here.”
Elio smiled as their kid sister Liza approached.
“I was starting to wonder if we should send out a search party,” Elio said, bending over so Liza could give him her standard kiss-on-the-cheek greeting. “You’re usually first to arrive, last to leave when it comes to parties.”
Liza offered the same buss to Aldo, then launched into a long-winded complaint about Matt Russo.
Ordinarily, Elio was all in on the Russo bashing, but it felt like lately, all Liza did was bitch about Matt. He was trying to convince himself the “she doth protest too much” vibe he was starting to get wasn’t there. Because God help her if it was, given the way their family felt about the Russos.
