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forty-four

. . .

Violet

I replayed my fight with Mason in the shower when I got home, all night as I rolled around in bed, and this morning when I woke up. I had many regrets about the things I said last night. I knew a fight was inevitable, no couple can stay in the honeymoon phase forever, but I never would have guessed we’d fight over him playing hockey again. I couldn’t think straight as soon as he said he was going to be playing. I kept imagining him getting hit and landing on his head. Kept seeing him on ice, laid out, unable to stand up. Those thoughts petrified me.

I know leaving wasn’t the most mature thing, but I was scared my temper would get in the way of my concern for him. And after my temporary time out, I feel much calmer. I planned to go to his office and talk things out, but after last night I think we could both use some caffeine. So I’m at the Beanery, waiting to order some apology lattes. The Beanery is surprisingly crowded for an early Saturday morning, and it feels like an eternity before I make it to the cashier.

I pull off to the side impatiently waiting for my drinks while refreshing my phone. I haven’t heard from Mason beyond the text he sent me last night asking if I got home safe. I debate texting him now to apologize, but I know we need to have this conversation in person. That doesn’t stop me from checking my phone repeatedly hoping for an olive branch. The barista’s yelling grabs my attention. “I have a medium iced chai latte and a small americano.”

“That’s mine!” I call out, at the same time as another patron.

My eyes are fixated on Mason as I watch him weave through the crowd. I trail behind him catching him off guard as he collects his/my order. His eyes soften as soon as they meet mine.

“Hey.” He looks relieved to see me.

“I have another medium iced chai and small americano, for Violet.”

I gave Mason a sheepish smile. “Looks like great minds think alike.” We grab our drinks and I jerk my head, gesturing for him to follow me outside. We walk double fisted with our drinks, waiting for the other to break the tension. We both take a deep breath before blurting out, “I’m sorry” in unison. He gives me a nod to signify I can go first.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you last night. I should have never brought up your dad or called you dumb. I never want to hurt you, or make you feel like I’m not in your corner. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I completely freaked out when you said you were going to play again. I just kept imagining all these worst-case scenarios in my head. I love you so much Mason that the thought of losing you scares the shit out of me. I can’t handle it. I can’t handle the thought of you getting hurt.” I let out a small sob, and Mason quickly sets his drinks and mine on the ground and reaches out to hold me.

He rubs soothing circles on my back while kissing my temple. “I love you too Violet. And I’m so sorry I snapped at you last night. My conversation with Coach Jameson just really messed with my head. He called me out on my lack of confidence as a coach, and I kept thinking how I would never have what it takes to do his job. That my skills were best put to use as a player. That’s why I called my agent. I got so caught up in getting my old dream back, I lost sight of the new dreams I have right in front of me.”

I pull back from him and look him in the eyes, so he can see I mean it when I say, “Coach Jameson’s wrong. Westchester is a whole new team after the changes you made. Look at Jake! He was one assignment away from becoming the Zamboni driver. Now he’s a C student. You did that. You are an amazing coach. And no one can take that from you, Mason.”

He gives me a sad smile. “Thanks Vi. Do you think you can forgive me?”

“Only if you can forgive me for all the shitty things I said last night?”

“Done.”

“Done.” I lean in for a kiss, which he gladly accepts.

In this moment, I know it’s safe to tell Mason about my rejection. He knew exactly what it felt like to have open wounds that still haven’t scarred years later. Rather than feeling ashamed, or worried about the pity, I know Mason will make me feel supported and remind me that my worth is not tethered to my work. I know this simple fact, but it helps when someone reminds you. “It turns out the old professor I used to work for was one of the people who reviewed my fellowship application. I got rejected. That’s why I was in such a bad mood yesterday.” Mason's arms tighten around me, holding me together.

“Fuck Violet. I’m so sorry. That’s such bullshit.” Mason trails his hands up and down my back, comforting me.

“Bethany said I could talk to the department chairs about it, see if they can fix this. I just don’t know if I have another fight in me. ”

“I get that. If you do want to fight this, I’ll have your back. And even if you don’t, I’ll also be here. Always.”

Embraced in his arms, my neck tucked under his chin, I felt so cherished, loved, and understood. We grab our drinks, and head into my office. As we sit down, Mason’s phone rings.

“Hey Coach what’s up? Oh shit…What do you need from me? Are you sure? No. No. Don’t leave the hospital. I can handle it. Trust me. Take care, Coach.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Coach got in an accident. Broke his leg. He’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow, which is also the first game of the Hockey East tournament.”

“What are you going to do?”

“He asked me to take over as Head Coach for the time being. Got any tips for tackling imposter syndrome?” He smiles nervously.

“About 1,000. But you’re not an imposter. You can do this.”

“I should probably go talk to the rest of the staff. We have a lot to figure out now.” He places a kiss on my forehead before standing to leave. He hesitates for a moment as he steps into the hall. He turns around to face me. “What if I fail Violet?”

“You won’t Mason. Win or lose, that’s for your players to decide. You only fail if you don’t go out there and be the best damn coach you can. And that I know you can do.”