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My drunk brain thought it’d make the story of us die.
It didn’t.
It blew it the fuck up.
That night, I was made aware that the footage of me drunk slap-shotting eggs all over Garrett’s living room was now viral on Barstool, had been played multiple times on SportsCenter, and was now trending on Twitter.
But the worst part of it all?
Texts from girls in other cities poured in, telling me that they were also seeing him. He had a girl in almost every city he played in while in the minors.
And the most painful shock came from an anonymous number showing Garrett had written:Baby, you know I love you. But I have to stay with her to make it in hockey. Do you know who her dad is?
Reading that made my heart completely shatter. It was a worse betrayal than the video evidence of him actually cheating.
Everything was a lie.
Every kiss.
Every touch.
I shivered. My skin felt dirty from his touch. I instantly wished I could shed it all off me like a snake so I never felt him.
Years.
I wastedyearswith him.
And it wasn’t even real…
I curled up in a fetal position in my childhood bed and hugged myself while I sobbed over how I let love make me a stupid,stupidgirl.
I couldn’t help but think of the irony. Every time I taughtRomeo and Juliet, kids always complained about how stupid Juliet was… and I agreed.
But I was stupider.
________
Later that night, my dad knocked on my door. I knew it was him from his footfalls behind my door. You didn’t live with someone your whole life and not know the sound of their walk. I didn’t invite him in, but he creaked the door open and leveled me with his serious eyes.
“I never liked him,” he said in his gruff voice.
I let out a shuddered sigh. “Don’t lie, dad. Yes, you did. He had all of us fooled.”
He shuffled into my bedroom and my bed divoted down as he sat on the edge. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said, patting my blanket-covered feet. “He’s a piece of shit. I’m not lying though. Why do you think I never drafted him?”
I paused. My dad was the head coach of the Detroit Crewmen. I always wondered why he passed up on Garrett because that would’ve made my life easier. I always figured my dad didn’t want him because it’d look too much like nepotism if he made the team… but deep down, I think I knew he wasn’t the kind of player my dad liked, I just never admitted it to myself.
“He’s a shit teammate,” my dad confirmed. “He messes up plays because he’s a selfish asshole. Yes, he got a goal last night, but his team probably could’ve had three more if he passed the fucking puck. And I know you know that because you ended your uh…” He coughed into his hand to cover a laugh, and I rolled my eyes. “Your performance with saying he’s a ‘fuggin’ puck hog.’” My dad shook his head. A calm silence settled between us, until he fully cracked up at my words. “I’m sorry, that was great.”
I pushed up and shoved his shoulder. My body couldn’t decide if I should be laughing or crying, so I melted into a mix.
“Oh honey, c’mere,” he said, pulling me into a side hug. “You’ll find a better man, I promise.”
My throat felt like it was closing up. “You can’t make promises like that. You never lie to me, so you can’t start now.”
“I know,” he said plainly. “But I am a little relieved. Aren’t you?”
“Dad!” I lightly smacked his shoulder and sniffled up my tears.
