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I feel the extra gaping tooth in the corner of my mouth. Fortunately, it’s off to the side so all I have to do is not open my mouth too wide and it won’t show in the photographs.
Speaking of the photographer, he arrives, carrying a large camera around his neck, accompanying JF Andrews.
Elsa brings them to circle the couch, and Andrews posts herself right in front of me.
“JF, this is Harvey! And that’s his mom, Lorna!” Elsa does the honors, then waits until JF and I shake hands to sit by my side.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harvey,” the reporter says. “I just hoped it could be at the height of your career, not the end!”
Mom offers JF and the photographer a seat, then takes a seat herself, off-panel and off-screen.
“Stop with the funereal talk. I’m still alive. I’m just not playing anymore!” I raise a finger jokingly.
“Alright,” JF smiles, then picks up a fancy digital recorder and places it on the coffee table. “Everything is going to be recorded. Does everyone consent to it?”
“I do,” I say.
“Me too!” Elsa says.
All present in the room look at mom, who is caught off guard by the attention.
“Oh, I don’t plan on talking, but I do too, if I have to!” she finally says.
“Okay, let’s get started,” JF clears her throat, meaning business. “Can you sum up your hockey journey up until this moment, Harvey?”
I pause to think. “There’s so much I can say. This is a tough question. It all started when I was a kid and I took a liking to street hockey growing up, which led me to join a youth league hockey team. Scouts noticed me from high school games, and I got drafted into a junior league. Then I caught the attention of NHL scouts and have been playing for the Arctic Wolves ever since.”
I cough then correct myself, “Well I was, up until now.”
When I look over at Elsa, her eyes are encouraging, and she holds my hand in support.
“And I wouldn’t be able to get through any of this if it wasn’t for Elsa. She’s been my rock.”
I squeeze Elsa’s hand and she smiles back at me.
“This guy,” I point to myself with determination, “got into the sights of the wrong kind of people, and ultimately got in trouble for it. And now I’m here, hurt, but recovering, happy as a clown. I’m not as happy as if I was still playing, but, oh well, what’s one going to do?”
JF smiles, professional and reserved. “Continuing: you mentioned being pursued by the wrong kind of people. Is that Stephen Talarico and his accomplices?”
“Precisely,” I say.
But Elsa frowns at me. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mention those guys!” she says in a tone of warning.
“Eh, what’s the use in hiding?” I say, shrugging, “Everybody knows those guys are in jail because of me. It all came out anyway when one of the Vipers players confessed. If I had a target in my head, they would have attacked me by now since I’m weak. But things are what they are. They got what they wanted anyway. I’m retired thanks to them and I’m of no use to them right now unless they plan on starting bets on children’s hockey leagues. I hope to be able to start coaching those.”
“Really?” The reporter opens a wide smile. “The great Harvey Baker coaching the little ones?”
She sounds impressed, but I catch the pity in her voice. I ignore it and nod. “Children’s leagues might be a nice way to put me on the low-impact side of hockey. That being said…”
I turn to look at Elsa, who looks at me with questioning eyes.
I continue, “I got to live my dream. I want Elsa to have the chance to live hers too. If she still wants to pursue acting, I can help take care of our child while she does.”
I see her tear up and quickly continue before I start choking up. “Speaking of which, I can hardly wait for my little one!”
I hug Elsa and cover her in kisses, and she giggles, delighted, wiping her eyes. Mom, from her side, just watches, all the while smiling and glowing.
“When are you due, Elsa?” JF asks.
