I grab my iPad and the rest of the stuff I’ll need today. Whit’s in the kitchen, and he hands me a smoothie as I head for the door. I say a quick thanks before starting my walk to campus. I’m so angry right now that if I start talking, I have a feeling I’ll slam my fist into a wall.
And with the way our season’s shaping up heading into the playoffs, the last thing I need is an injury.
It feels like I’ve lost everything else, so I need to hang on to hockey while I still have it.
Chapter 10
Ian
A hand goesup in the back of the lecture hall, in the corner where the jocks sit. At this point in the semester, I know where everyone sits, know everyone’s names. This particular hand belongs to Ollie Jablonski, a junior hockey player, which is no surprise. The discussion topic today is taboo, and Ollie’s always vocal in class.
“So, for me,” he says, “Nothing’s taboo. I mean, if it feels good to all parties involved, then it’s on the menu. As long as everyone’s consenting, then nothing’s off-limits.”
Before I can respond or ask him to elaborate, his teammate and seatmate, Neil Kozlow, chimes in. “Ok, I get that, but you have to accept that some things are taboo, just based on the society we live in.”
“Why?” Ollie fires back. “Why is it anyone else’s business what I do with my dick, as long as everyone’s on board?”
“But think about this,” Koz reasons. “Let’s say the person you’re with wants to have sex in public. Like, at a park, or whatever. You’re consenting; they’re consenting. It’s all good, right? But what about the older couple having a picnic ten feet away? Do they get a say? What about the parents scrolling through Facebook while their kids play on the monkey bars? Can they weigh in?”
“They can watch for all I care,” Ollie says. Next to him, Pete Santos shakes his head.
A student down front, Jordin, adds her thoughts, and though I’m listening, my mind is still on the guys in the corner. Or rather, the one guy who isn’t in the corner. I shouldn’t be surprised that Booker’s not in class. I’m sure the percentage of students who make it to class the day after they turn twenty-one is pretty low. And it’s not like his voice is missing from the conversation, at least, as far as his classmates are concerned. He doesn’t talk and doesn’t raise his hand. Just sits there with a pensive expression on his face. No, he doesn’t participate, but I can tell he hears every word and processes every conversation.
It’s not the same without him here.
After Jordin says her piece and the student next to her adds theirs, time is up. I remind them of the assignment due before class on Monday and tell them all to have a good weekend.
Ollie waves in my direction, and I wave back. If this were a few years ago, if I were just a student in the class, and not the TA and acting professor, I’d catch up with Ollie and his crew. I’d ask about Booker.
But I’m not a student. And it’s none of my business.
I’m still stuck in my head when I knock on Hannah’s office door five minutes later. She was all set to teach today, but I told her I’d cover the lecture so she could catch up on paperwork for a bit. She’s heading back to her dad’s for another few weeks, and I want her to leave tonight feeling like she has everything under control.
“Hey, boss,” I say, stepping inside the small, cluttered space. She’s dwarfed by the piles on her desk. She’s got one pair of glasses on her head, holding her hair back like a headband. The other pair is resting on her nose. There are at least four coffee cups littering her workspace, and a grease-stained brown bag that probably held her lunch.
“Hey, Ian, come on in. Thanks again for lecturing. I know I’m taking advantage of you, and I should feel guilty as hell, but I’m getting so much done.”
“Good,” I tell her, moving a pile of books so I can take a seat. “That was the whole point. Besides, lecturing is fun, and this is a really great group.”
“They are fun. My other class is giving Michele fits, so I’ve been wading through papers today. At this rate, I should be able to leave tomorrow morning.”
“What do you have left?”
“Just a bunch of essays from the intro class. They won’t take too long.”
“If you leave within the hour, you’ll make it back by sundown.”
“True,” she says. “But I’d rather get these done so my mind is clear when I head back. I’m trying to be really present when I’m with Dad, and I have an article due next week, so I’ll be working on that in my spare time.”
“Wait, he has a nurse, right? That should free you up a little?”
Hannah nods. “Yeah, he does. Her name is Lily, and she’s great with him. Young, but very competent. Anyway, I’ll feel better if I get these done.”
I should keep my mouth shut. I really should. But it’s nearly impossible. I’m a fixer of the highest order, and helping is what I do. Before I can stop them, the words are out of my mouth. “Send them my way. I can get them done by Sunday night, if that helps.”
I can hear Mel’s voice scolding me, telling me my plate is too full already. But the look of sheer gratitude on Hannah’s face tells me I’m doing the right thing. Besides, I work the morning shift tomorrow and Sunday, but my evenings are free. Well, I have my own work to do, but I can read on my breaks at the shop.
“Ian, you are a lifesaver,” she tells me, clicking a few keys. “And look, the grades don’t need to be in for a week. Message me if you have any questions, ok?”
