Page 11

11

Liam

T here was an atmosphere in the kitchen when I walked back in. It was the kind of silence that told me that I had just been the topic of conversation.

I couldn’t say that I was surprised, but I thought they would have at least put off the debrief until we weren’t in the house. Or just taken the conversation next door, where there was even less chance of one of us walking in on them. We were always moving in between each other’s houses, so I wouldn’t have found it odd if I had come back down to a ghost town. I would probably have preferred it. It would have given me a chance to breathe for a minute.

“You all settled in?” Stassie asked, a small smile teasing the corner of her lips.

“I mean, our stuff is in Lenny’s room,” I replied. I was going to unpack but then I laid down, brought up christening her bed and her ass in those leggings. When she started talking about things being a tight fit, I couldn’t be in that room with her anymore. Not when she was looking at me like that and we were on a bed .

“Are you hungry? I was about to make a start on dinner but I’m sure I can rustle up a snack for you if you want,” Stassie asked, although she was already in the process of pulling together a snack board full of my old favourites.

“So, how are you, son?” Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m good, Dad, just like I was when you asked me two days ago.” Ever since I announced my retirement, my father had rocketed to the top of my most frequent callers. He firmly fell into the camp of people who thought they knew my body better than me and didn’t understand why I retired when, generally speaking, I was still physically capable. He believed that, with every phone call, I was going to tell him that I made a mistake and was working on getting back on the ice professionally. He ignored the fact that I was nearly thirty-one and would have to compete with kids over a decade younger than me to even get on a team. No one was picking me after a year out of the game when a kid in his prime was raring to go. Nor should they. I was done. No matter how much it disappointed him. And oh, how it disappointed him.

“Ah, yeah, but now I can see the white of your eyes and figure out if you’re lying to me when you answer.”

I laughed. “And what is the verdict?” I asked.

“The jury is still out.” He clapped me on the shoulder again, only this time he hit the shoulder that had sent me into retirement, and I pitched forward.

“Wrong shoulder, Dad.” I winced.

“Sorry, I forgot which one was dodgy. Is it still bothering you?” he asked.

“Nah, usually it’s fine. As long as I don’t overuse it, it feels as expected.” I rubbed over the shoulder, mostly out of habit, not because he had hit me hard enough to do any actual damage. I could see from the look on his face that he hadn’t liked my answer, and I knew before he even started speaking what his next sentence was going to be.

“With a shoulder that’s feeling fine, you could still be out there on the ice.”

“But then who would I test all my new bakes on in the middle of the day, Robert?“ Lenny asked as she walked back into the kitchen. I wondered if my dad remembered that Lenny only used his full name when he was pissing her off.

I smiled to myself as I looked at her walking into her domain. The sleeves of her sweater were rolled up past her elbows and I could see it. I could imagine walking in on her creating something new with her hands and flexing her forearm muscles, her right arm now sporting a winding pattern of flowers that I wanted to study at length. She would ask me to test what she was making and then brace herself for whatever comment she had managed to convince herself it deserved. She would hit me on the arm attached to my good shoulder and call me a liar when I inevitably told her it was good.

“Then he should definitely be back on that ice,” Dad joked.

“There are other ways to exercise, Bobby. Surely you must know that,” Lenny said as she pulled flour out of a cupboard and turned to Stassie, who was putting the finishing touches to her snack board. “I imagine you were about to start dinner but I’m really craving pastry. Can I make a pie? Obviously enough for everyone. I assume they are all staying for dinner?”

Stassie nodded. “That’s fine. There’s some chicken you can use and I’m sure you can figure out the rest with what we have in. I stocked up in anticipation of your arrival. This is all done, Liam. Enjoy.” She gestured to the array of crackers, meats, and cheese on the board in front of her. I loved Stassie-sized snacks.

Wordlessly, everyone started leaving the kitchen and I remembered that Lenny liked to be alone when she cooked. No part of me wanted to follow our parents into another room, but I also knew that I couldn’t stay while she worked.

“You don’t have to leave. You can make yourself useful and chop things if you like,” Lenny said. She was looking in the fridge and slowly pulling various ingredients out.

“Put me in, Coach,” I teased as I washed my hands.

“I think I’d rather you call me Alana than Coach. Unless you have some authority issues you want to talk about.”

“Nah, Lenny, all good here. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“Chop.”

She threw a carton of mushrooms at me before she washed her hands and started making pastry.