Page 49 of Slap Shot
Madeline
Funny.
I should head to bed. It’s late. You’ll be back tonight?
Asking so I don’t assault you again.
Me
Yeah. I’ll be at the apartment around two a.m. You still have my location, right?
Madeline
I do.
Cheez-It Arena has a nice ring to it.
That was a really nice goal you scored, by the way. I think I could get into hockey.
I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t care.
Madeline watched our game, and that makes me even prouder than the goal did.
FOURTEEN
HUDSON
The first monthof the season flies by.
Madeline, Lucy and I settle into a routine, and whenever I’m home, they include me in the things they’re doing.
We went to the National Air and Space Museum last Sunday, and today we’re working on Lucy’s Halloween costume while she’s at school. It’s a character from a show calledBlueythat’s been on the living room television every afternoon, and Madeline spent the last fifteen minutes explaining how it’s a kids show for adults.
I still don’t understand.
“I appreciate your help.” Madeline holds up the fabric she’s been stitching all morning. “It’s much faster with two people, and I’m working on borrowed time after Lucy let me knowyesterdayshe needs something to wear for class tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure I’m actually doing anything.” I nudge over the piece of felt she needs to finish the costume. “But I’m happy to assist.”
“What are you up to the rest of the day? The calendar shows no game tonight.”
“No game, but I have a meeting with Coach at five. I’ll be back in time for dinner at six thirty.”
“Meeting?” She puts the needle between her teeth and sets the costume on the table. “Are you in trouble?”
“Hope not. Coach likes to talk to us individually every other week. He checks in and makes sure we’re doing all right mentally and physically.”
“I’ve never played a sport before.”
“Really? I didn’t get that impression with all your sports expertise.”
Madeline tosses a spool of thread at my head, and I laugh. “Does every coach have meetings with their athletes?” she asks.
“God, no. Some don’t even bother to learn every player’s name. When I was a rookie, our coach thought my name was Harold. Coach Saunders is a hard-ass, but he’s the best of the best. He’s young, so he’s easy to relate to. Sometimes he’ll join us in our workouts so we’re not out there busting our asses alone. We’ve only gotten better since he’s been with the team, and a Stanley Cup Championship wouldn’t have been possible without him.”
“He sounds like a good guy.” Madeline sticks the fabric with the needle and pulls the thread through. “You were young when you started playing hockey, right?”
“Yeah. I was seven or eight. I watchedMiracle on Ice, and I became obsessed. Wouldn’t shut up about it.” I smile at the memory of following my parents around the house. Begging for a pair of skates and promising to pay for them with lemonade stand money. It’s humbling to know how far I’ve come. To know I was able to pay off their mortgage and completely wipe out the cost of Mom’s medical bills because of the sport. “I took some lessons, joined a club team, realized I was good, and here we are.”
