My vision was clearing enough to see the outline of the tall man with dark brown hair and broad shoulders. I knew the Minnesota Wild hockey players by their appearances more so than names so it would do no good to ask him which one he was. Bottom line, he was the asshole from the Wild.
I got to my room, still trying to wrap my mind around what had just transpired. Once in the bathroom, I shook my head at the reflection staring back at me.
I grabbed tissues to clean off the blood from her fingernails. WTF, right? Luckily my light beard hid some of the damage except for a good gash beside my eye and a few on my cheeks; she could’ve blinded me for God’s sake. And the eye was already bruising. A black eye from the crazy chick down the hall. Perfect.
I knew Novots was a fighter. Clearly, his sister was too. Holy shit, I’d never been in a scuffle with a woman.
The girl must’ve gotten her sight back as I heard the shower in the hall bathroom running. I wondered if water would help or hurt when it came to her face.
I changed into sweats and lay on my bed watching ESPN. I opened my door in case she needed something, but it was silent out in the hall.
I Googled mace in the face, and it sounded like she was going to be okay. But was she still in pain? I knew my words were harsh, but in my defense, I hadn’t expected a brawl in the kitchen.
After a quiet hour more, I walked to her door and tapped on it. “Hello? Fern?”
“Yes.” Her voice was almost a whisper.
“Uh, I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay? Do you need anything?”
A pause. “I’m fine.”
I stood for a moment, not certain why I wanted her to open the door. “Are you hungry or anything? I’m having groceries delivered tomorrow, but?—”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. Well, I’m turning in.”
“Night.” It was short and quiet.
I groaned as I remembered the disastrous milk bath I’d given Fern in the kitchen, milk being the most effective way on hand to stop the sting of the mace. My education on that consists of seeing rioters on the news; yes, I know lots of stuff. I went downstairs and cleaned off the floor with paper towels and nearly killed myself rummaging through the storage closet from Hell to track down a mop. I swept up what seemed to be thousands of fake white flowers on the other side of the kitchen and unplugged two glue guns before grabbing the bottle of Jack from the cabinet, the only decent sleep aid I’d found.
It was getting late, and I knew I needed to go to bed, but I dreaded the darkness every night. I dreaded sleep. That was when she visited.
I went back upstairs, turned off the TV, and climbed under the covers. I bought the cabin a year after she died, seeking peace. It brought me some, but even here, night would sometimes hold me hostage with dreams of her lifeless body over and over again. I took several deep breaths, praying for rest as I dozed off.
* * *
The frigid air bit at me as I walked through the dark cemetery. I found her rose-colored tombstone and brushed the snow off the top of it. I leaned in close to see the photo with her blonde hair and brown eyes smiling back at me. I dropped to my knees in front of her and traced the butterflies under Amy Wolkowski, Beloved Wife and Daughter with my finger. “Hi, baby girl.” The back of my eyes burned. “I can't believe it's been three years today. Three shitty, wasted years. Not what I imagined the day I married you.”
Like a movie I'd seen a million times, images filled my mind. Hauntingly clear, as I could smell her perfume and feel her hands on my arms. I looked up, and there she was, standing next to her grave, that smile piercing my heart.
“Do you remember that day? I honestly didn't think your old man was going to let go of your hand, but he did. He somehow forgave the times in high school he caught me pulling my truck up under your window so you could climb down and sneak away with me for hours.” She stared down at me as my vision blurred. “Listening to old Van Halen while cruising down Robert Street was amazing. When it came to you, all I needed was a miracle, and I got it. When you said you'd marry me, I promised to protect you.” My breath hitched in my ribs. “If I hadn't been late, if I'd come to get you, everything would be right.”
The pain poured out while I fought the lump in my throat. The years had gone by in slow motion. The only relief from thoughts of her was the saving grace of hockey. “I miss you so much. I feel alone all the time. It's supposed to get easier, or at least that's what everyone says.” But they’re wrong. I've had the love of my life, I'd had it all, and it was gone. There was nothing for me.
I despised my quiet apartment in the city, the place where my mind ran in dark circles, not letting me escape. Night would strangle me with dreams of her over and over again relentlessly. Hockey and being on the Minnesota Wild, along with booze, were the only things that kept me from imploding all together. I trace her smile with my finger. “I don't think things will get better.” I looked over to see her walking away and disappearing into the night. “I don’t think I want to be here anymore, Amy. I think I'm done.”
My words hung in the frozen air for a moment before a gust of wind came out of nowhere. A large branch from the tree above dropped onto my head with a kurplunk. My laughter followed, echoing around me. “Are you kidding me right now? How can you still make your point better than anyone?” I stood and looked down at her photo. “I hear you, and I'll try. But help me, Amy. Show me a sign. Send me something so I know I can find the light at the end of this thing. It's been so dark for so long. Please show me.”
* * *
I awoke with the familiar restlessness as the dark cloud that followed me was already by my side. The one person who could’ve pushed me through was my mother, the one who adopted me when I was her foster kid, but she died of breast cancer the year before Amy’s accident. The women who loved me always left me.
But it was time to channel her energy. She and Amy were strong, and I needed to be that. I had to do something different. It was a new day, and I was pushing forward. I needed to stop medicating myself with alcohol. I’d managed to keep all the balls in the air, professional hockey and life, but I wouldn’t be able to pull that off forever. Jack Daniels had become my bestie and confidante, but it was time to shut him down. Last call.
I hopped in the shower and was a little hesitant to go downstairs. I’d always assumed I’d live out most situations in my life, but I didn’t know how to react to a woman I was pulling around my kitchen floor on her stomach after she threw fists and maced herself.
I quietly entered to see her working on some large foam flowery thing with her back toward me. White flowers were everywhere again, and she was using a hot glue gun to stick them on the foam boards. My eyes took in the way her black leggings hugged her ass, and the jet-black hair that hung past the center of her back.
