Page 100 of How We End

“I ain’t scared of you, old man.Now go sit down before I teach you what a younger player can do.Kinda like Payton taught your wife.”

“Silver, don’t,” Mason called.“He wants you to fight.”

“Well, good, because I want to.”I dropped my gloves.

Jensen did the same.“Let’s go, old man.”

I never remembered fights.I didn’t remember who threw the first punch.I didn’t remember planning my next hit.I didn’t feel the sting of Jensen’s hits or any other of my aches or pains.It all happened like it was meant to be.Time seemed to stop in those moments before it was broken up or one of us fell to the ice.In these moments, nothing else mattered but the fight.The feel of victory.The adrenaline of a hockey fight.

“Okay, Silver, that’s enough.You win.”One of the refs was pulling me off Jensen, who had a bloodied nose, and his helmet had come off.

“How’s that for an old man?”I shouted at him as the refs pushed me away.

“Fuck you, Silver.My three-year-old niece hits harder than you.”Jensen stood, spitting blood.

“Your face tells a different story.”

“That’s enough,” the ref shouted.

“Yeah?Was it enough when he hit Anders?”I shouted back.

“Jules, let it go.”Mason shoved me back to the bench.

The arena was loud, and the fans cheered as the ref got ready to call the penalties.This was what hockey was.We left it all on the ice because we might never get this moment again.

“New York number twenty-four, five-minute major for boarding, five for fighting, and a game misconduct for fight in the last five minutes.Vegas number thirty-five, two-minute minor instigation, five for fighting, ten for a game misconduct for being the aggressor and another game misconduct for continuing the fight.”

“What?”I yelled, fighting against Mason.“The aggressor?Do you even know what that word means?”Mason was still pushing me towards the bench.

“You want another one?”the ref called.

“Seriously?Does your wife know you’re fucking me too?”I shouted over Mason’s shoulder.“That’s a bullshit call.Did New York change their jersey to stripes?”

“Silver,” Murry was yelling.“Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you.”

“This is your fault.If you had balls Andy wouldn’t be hurt.”I slammed the half door on my way down the tunnel.None of those calls were justified.

“Silver, I need to look at that eye.”One of the trainers called for me as I stormed down the tunnel.

“It’s fine!”In the locker room, trainers and medical staff surrounded Anders, who was begging them to let him go back out.“Is he okay?”

“It’s his ribs.We won’t know if they’re bruised or broken.We’ll need to get him x-rayed.”The staff doctor looked down at Anders.

“But I can still play, right?”Anders huffed out his words.

“Not if you can’t breathe.You can’t play,” the doctor said.“He’s out until we know more.If you’re lucky, it’s a bruised couple ribs.”

“And if I’m not?”Anders’s eyes were wide.No player wanted to hear that anything was broken.Broken bones took months to heal and longer to rehab.They could also mean the end of Anders’s season.

The doctor patted Anders on the shoulder.“We will know more tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.I just got the wind knocked out of me.I’ll be fine.Tell them, Jules.I’m fine.I can play.Tape me up.Jules, tell them.”Anders’s words tumbled out of his mouth.I could see the fear.I knew that fear.This was not how we wanted our careers to end, quietly in some doctor’s office.We wanted it to end hoisting that silver cup.Surrounded by teammates with the deafening sound of the crowd chanting our names.

“Andy, it’s okay.”Those words sounded hollow.

“I don’t want this to be the end, Jules.We were supposed to do this together.I’m okay, see?”He tried to sit up but fell back.“I can’t go out like this.”

“Anders, stop.”I put my hand on his shoulder.“It’s just a couple of bruised ribs.It’s not the end.In a few weeks, you’ll be fine.Relax.”