Page 15

Byron

There is nowhere I feel more at peace than an empty hockey rink.

The euphoric high you get as your skates cut through the glass like ice.

The scenarios you can act out, where you’re the hero who never misses the game winning goal.

Perfection is obtainable here because no one can say for sure that you missed that one goal wide left.

The Riley Center has been out of commission for the first couple of months of the school year.

Construction began once school ended in May.

The rink’s cooling system needed to be updated and since the arena was already going to be closed under construction they decided to update the seating as well.

Thirty minutes into my workout I’m rounding up pucks after a shooting drill, pushing them all back to the center of the rink.

I’m admiring the haphazard pile I made, noting that it is that accuracy that made me the conference’s second-leading scorer last year when a door slams, drawing my attention to the locker room.

Oliver is suited in his goalie equipment, and I’m hoping he wants to get some rounds in.

“Hey, are you going to be here for a while?” Oliver’s voice echoes through the empty arena.

I nod, pushing the puck between my legs before pushing up the rink to an imaginary teammate.

I give Oliver a few minutes to work through his warmups.

He’s an agile goalie for his size. I still don’t understand how this mountain of man can be related to a pipsqueak like Lola. It proves that genes are a crapshoot.

I’ve only been able to see Oliver’s athleticism through work in the weightroom and player-led track workouts. If the way he’s moving right now translates to games, he has a chance to be one of the best goalies in the country.

“You ready?” Oliver asks me as he tucks his water bottle back behind the net.

I nod firing off the first shot before he is in position.

“What the fuck man?”

I flash him my most innocent smile while he settles into position.

Oliver nearly gets the best of me the rest of the session.

It’s easy to forget that he hasn’t played a game in college yet.

I think a year sitting behind Eric is going to add to his game.

He’ll be able to fine tune his game without the pressure of being the starting goalie.

We haven’t been able to use our locker room with all the construction going on. My hockey bag shakes the room when it hits the floor. I’m speechless.

The National Championship mural they painted on the back wall is incredible. It’s cool to think that this is going to be the first thing generations of future Retrievers will see when they enter the room.

“Hey, your sister is coming to the party tonight, right?” I ask Oliver as I dodge the water he is shaking off his hair after his shower.

“I spoke to her yesterday before she left, and she said your preseason party isn’t to be missed, so I’d assume that’s a yes.”

There’s a warm feeling that spreads up my neck. She wants to come. It’s not Indy pushing her to or feeling like she has to come to spend time with her brother. She wants to come.

“She told me you guys are getting manicures today.”

“Yes, it’s part of her dumb list. I thought she would want to relax a little after her big night out.”

A ping comes from the wooden bench, and the sound tunes out whatever Oliver says next. I heard him mumble something about his sister being high-maintenance.

“Hey, it’s my mom. She just got off a couple of night shifts, and I haven’t talked to her much this week.”

Oliver nods, not needing more of an explanation. Coming from a family of doctors he knows how crazy a career in the medical profession can be.

It’s nine in the morning on a Saturday, so if I don’t have a game or practice, I’m probably sleeping off a hangover. I know my mom will appreciate talking to me and not my voicemail.

“Hey, Mom!” The familiar sounds of the city I grew up in come in from the other side of the line.

“My sweet boy, how are you?” My mother sounds like she is the type to dote on her only son, but that woman takes shit from no one. We always joke that Mrs. Holloway is the good cop to Mom’s bad cop.

“Good. I just got done with a workout with the team’s freshman goalie.”

“Oh, isn’t that Lola’s brother?”

She also remembers everything. EVERYTHING.

“It is,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “He happened to show up when I was working on some things this morning.”

There’s no “That’s good, are you excited for the season?” or a “How are your classes so far?”

My Mom asks, rather bluntly, “Have you fixed things with Lola yet?”

“I’m working on it,” I inform her. “We have plans to hang out today. I told you about her list of what I have to do to earn her friendship back, right?”

“Yes, and you better do everything on that list, Byron.”

Saying Lola and my mom hit it off last summer when she came to the city is an understatement.

It made it even more apparent to me that it was time to tell our friends about us.

She said my mom understood her in a way that other parental figures in her life just didn’t.

In a few hours it was like Lola became the daughter my mom never had.

Then all it took was a few days for me to lose her.

The sudden change in our relationship didn’t just hurt me, but Mom too.

“That’s the plan, Mom. Plus we have to work together all semester, and I have a feeling her walls are starting to come down a little bit, like I can see the tops of her hedges now.”

My mind slows down when I hear her deep belly laugh through the phone. “Where do you come up with this shit, By?”

“I’m the funniest person you know.” I state matter of factly and I know she is rolling her eyes.

“Well, I have to run into the grocery store, and then I’m going to go home and take a nap.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you too, Byron. Just remember that there was a reason Lola felt so comfortable with our family. Remind her that you are still the same man she cooked dinner with while you were home.”

I think at any age, there are times when your parents offer you advice, and you get annoyed because they don’t understand what you are going through.

My father left often and came back occasionally, until he just didn’t.

Mom never let our life stop just because he decided he didn’t want to be a part of it.

I think there is a difference between Lola and my dad, though.

My dad left because he was a selfish prick who didn’t want to grow up.

Having a kid at twenty-three was not how he envisioned his life.

Lola was never given the love that she deserved, and when people show her how easy she is to love, she runs from it.

I’m going to show her why she is worthy and it starts with crossing everything off her stupid list.

A freshly mixed rum and coke is in my coffee tumbler when someone lays on their car’s horn. I nearly throw my cup across the room.

I’m pouring myself a double shot when Lola’s name pops up on my phone, telling me she is sitting in my driveway.

I call an audible and add another shot to my cup. According to the generation’s greatest philosopher, Drake, you can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning. This is also our last party before my senior season starts, so why not?

The weather has finally cooled. We had a stretch of ninety-degree days that made me want to move to Alaska, so I’m happy that I can leave the house in jeans and a hoodie.

Lola’s eyes are glued to her phone, so she doesn’t notice me when I walk around the front of her car. I bang on the hood a couple of times, she jumps, her eyes pulling away from her phone, startled by the unexpected noise.

Her eyes narrow, and her brows pinch as she shoots me both her middle fingers. I flash a smile at my always charming friend. Or almost friend, again.

“Hey Pip, how was your trip home?”

“Well it really wasn’t supposed to be a trip home. We went for Izzy’s birthday, but I was guilt tripped into stopping by home for brunch with my parents and grandparents. It actually was really nice.”

I suppress my smile. “That’s awesome, Lo.”

I bend the straw I put in my tumbler and take a long sip before I place it in the cupholder. Lola looks down at the tumbler and then back at me.

“You didn’t think I’d want a coffee after I woke up at the ass crack of dawn after celebrating a twenty-first birthday?”

“Ahh, yes, I would have thought to do that if it was coffee in that cup.”

“If it’s not coffee in there, what is it?”

“Rum and coke.”

Lola’s eyes go big as she looks at the clock on her dashboard. “Byron, it’s 12:01.”

“I know, but you know we start practice next week,” I tell her matter of factly.

“Don’t drink so much before the party that I have to babysit you tonight. I have a friend coming from Hamilton.”

Charlotte must be coming tonight. I didn’t know that. I’ve always thought she and Aaron would hit it off.

“Don’t worry, girl,” I say in a high-pitched voice as I tip my hand in Lola’s direction. “You know I can hold my liquor.”

Lola rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say, Byron.”

The nail salon is in town so it only takes a few minutes to get there.

We don’t speak much. I sip my drink and she hums along to the breakup song playing through the car’s speakers.

I don’t feel the need to fill the silence.

It’s not awkward or anxiety-inducing. It’s the kind of quiet that happens when you feel as comfortable as I do right now.

The little hot baths at the front of the pedicure chairs are filled and waiting for us. This isn’t my first pedicure. I think Lola thought that I’d think this is some kind of knock to my masculinity. Maybe I’d refuse to cross this item off the list.