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Bens:Only man on the planet grinning that big after losing an elimination game.
Attachedto that was a picture of me sitting here in my seat, smiling to myself as my phone lit up my face.
Instantly, more messages were coming through. It would’ve been loud chirping on a daytime flight, but since most of our teammates were asleep, we kept it to our phones.
Nilsson:OMG Tans. Does he know you’re such a dork for him?
Adamo:Your inviting us to the wedding, right?
Davis:Dibs on best man
Adamo:bro stfu goalies get to be best man. not wingers.
Bens:nah I got dibs. I was his wingman.
Me:You were not.
Bens:Who told you to finally meet him? Hmm? HMM? Yeah that’s what I thought.
Adamo:wait is this that guy you were chatting with since forever? Ok that explains a lot.
Me:WTF does that mean?
Davis:act like you weren’t on another planet whenever you were chatting with him.
Adamo:ok but this shit’s new. Tans getting all googly eyed is weird. Knock it off bruh.
Me:Why? Jealous?
Adamo:No because you being all lovey-dovey seems like the first horsemen of the apocalypse or some shit
Me:(middle finger emoji)
I lookedacross the aisle and caught Bens’s eye. He snickered, and I flipped him off for real. I was laughing, too, and truthfully, I didn’t mind being the butt of a joke. Hockey players chirped. It was what we did. And after tonight’s loss, I was happy to be the reason my teammates could laugh at something.
Especially since, despite that loss, I didn’t feel too bad right now. All because of the man on the other end of my text messages.
Closing my eyes, I pressed back against the seat and smiled to myself. My team and I would do better next season. I knew we would.
And tomorrow night?
God, I can’t wait to see you, Isaiah.
I drove myself home,passed out in bed, and didn’t open my eyes again until almost noon. After a shower, a long overdue shave, and some coffee, I actually felt human again. Mostly.
A little restless, too. Isaiah wouldn’t be off work for a few hours yet, so I had some time on my hands. I had the almost irresistible urge to go to the training center and practice, but there wouldn’t be any more practice any time soon. Because the season was over. Because we’d lost. Ouch.
Ah, well.
I made myself some… well, I guess it was lunch at this point. After I’d eaten and then topped off my coffee, I settled onto the couch with my phone. I finally had the intestinal fortitude to go through all of last night’s texts. They were fine, of course, and I was in a better headspace to thank people and tell them, “Yeah, it sucked, but only one team can win.”
I responded with the same practiced, benign responses I did every year, but my mom’s texts stopped me in my tracks. After her initial “We were really pulling for you, baby”and “Maybe next year!” she added, “Let us know when you have your travel dates.”
Travel dates. Oh. Shit.
This was kind of an annual tradition. After the playoffs ended, we always had some variation of this conversation, which boiled down to “When can we expect you?”
Because like most of my teammates, I didn’t stay in Pittsburgh during the off season. We all scattered for hometowns and vacations. Some of the guys played in summer leagues in Europe and Canada, and others had families who didn’t live with them in Pittsburgh.
