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I sent a message back.I’ll be there.
My feelings are all tangled in knots. I know that what Mason did to me was really lousy. I also know that he was under enormous stress at the time and still tried to do what he thought would help me the most when it came to my job.
And I also have to acknowledge that I bear some responsibility for this whole fiasco too. I sent mixed signals. I wanted him, but I didn’t want to commit at first. I was never fully in; I always had one foot out the door.
“I hope so,” I say to Cece. I look around us. We’re in our usual excellent seats, right up against the glass—surrounded by kids from the hospitals, their families, and some hospital staff. The kids who either completed their treatment or are well enough to attend—including Harrison, Antoine, Juan, and Mariah—are all here. Mariah’s proudly wearing her wig, with Rovers-themed hair clips in. They’re all wearing little Rovers jerseys.
Harrison nudges me. “Here’s hoping he’s better at this than he was at Uno.” He grins. I laugh. “We’ll find out soon, won’t we?”
The Rovers are playing the Minnesota Destroyers. And they are playing their butts off.
“Kill them,” Cecelia shrieks. “Kick their asses.” She leaps to her feet, waving wildly.
I jump up and grab her by the arm. “Cecelia. Watch your language. There are kids here,” I cry out over the roar of the crowd.
“I’ve heard it before,” Harrison yells.
“Yeah, it means butt,” Mariah supplies helpfully. “That’s what you poop out of.”
I give Cecelia a narrow-eyed look.
“Oh, fudge. Shoot.” Cecelia smiles sheepishly. “My bad. I just get carried away.” Then one of the refs makes a call against the Rovers. “You freaking morons,” she yells furiously. I elbow her.
“What?” Cecelia says innocently. “I didn’t swear.”
I roll my eyes. “Sportsmanship,” I say. “Be a good sport. No trash talk. You’re supposed to be setting a good example.”
“Well, that’s no fun at all,” she grumbles. But she turns her attention back to the ice and yells “Go team. Whooo. I hope everybody wins.”
“That’s better.” I nod approvingly.
“Ugh, how utterly boring. I come here to get my aggression out,” she huffs.
The kids are shouting and cheering. Mason is amazing tonight. It’s like watching the ballet on ice, if the prima ballerina was an absolute savage who sent all of the other dancers flying.
I’m swept away by it all, forgetting my problems, just caught up in the sheer joy of the game, screaming my throat raw. And yes, I forget myself a couple of times and scream out a mild swear word or three, which earns me a smirk from Cecelia.
Finally intermission comes, and we collapse back in our seats, happily worn out from all the jumping and cheering. The kids are having an amazing time, which is what matters.
Cecelia and I are chatting about the game and complaining about the refs, when all of a sudden the kids start chattering excitedly and pointing towards the ice.
Has this suddenly turned into a kids’ holiday-on-ice extravaganza?
Because there is a frog skating out onto the ice. A giant bright green frog.
What the actual heck?
The skater lifts the frog head just enough to showcase that it’s Mason.
Again… what the actual heck?
Stitched across the front of the costume in huge yellow letters are the words Iron Henry.
The frog is holding up a sign, but I can’t see what is on the sign at first, because he is moving too fast. The frog twirls across the ice, gliding as gracefully as an Ice Capades dancer.
Where the heck did he find a giant frog costume?
Maybe the same costume shop where I got the giant cock ...
