The Tales of a Professional Hockey Player

Chapter 9: LA

~Ben~

I have been trying to talk to Eleanor for the past five days with no success. Every time I get near her, she pretends to have something to do elsewhere and she simply doesn't answer when I text or call. When we left Boston, the morning after my day with Hannah and Ophelia, she completely ignored me. She usually asks about what we did, but not that day. She walked past me as if I wasn't even there. It's been that way ever since. She doesn't text me to tell me what time Hannah will bring me Ophelia or when we are supposed to leave. I know her behavior must be linked to the picture Hannah posted. I just wish she would let me explain or at least try to.

Today is our last day in the US until the end of the book tour. After LA, we go to British-Columbia where they expect the turn-out to be quite good since it's Eleanor's birthplace. The tour will end in Ontario in exactly one week. I don't know how I feel about going back there. Even if we are not going to Windsor, I still feel like this place is filled with bad memories. I associate Ontario with my relationship ending. I know it's wrong, Windsor isn't responsible for my behavior, but I still link the two. I try to think about all the nice things that happened in Windsor like the hockey championship we won two years in a row, Eleanor's many accomplishments at school, and, mostly, Ophelia's birth, but it's difficult to focus on the positive. The human brain has a way to stick on everything negative even when there are more positive things to rejoice over. I am trying to focus more on those like the days I still have to spend with Ophelia. Since Boston, Hannah has never spent more than the four minutes it takes her to drop off and pick up Ophelia with us. That is one hell of a positive thing.

Another positive thing is that, since we are in LA, I thought about taking Ophelia to the beach for the day. I wanted to ask Eleanor, but, since we don't seem to be on speaking terms, I'll do it my way. I spent all of yesterday's evening at the store, buying everything I think I could need. I got sunscreen, a swimsuit for her and one for me, baby sunglasses that are way too funny, swimming diapers, and various toys to build sandcastles and to play in the water. Even with everything I got, I know I will miss some things. I guess I'll find out on the spot where I'll want that specific thing I didn't bring. Going out with a child is so much more complicated than I thought. There are so many things you have to carry and stuff you have to think about like feeding and nap schedules and diaper changes. I admire Eleanor even more for doing it all by herself all this time.

Hannah dropped Ophelia off at ten this morning. It's now half-past-one and everything is going great. We, well I, built a sandcastle. We went swimming afterwards to get rid of the sand in our swimsuits, I applied more sunscreen to her fragile skin before and after lunch. We got many nice comments from women of all ages, stating how pretty Ophelia is or asking how old she is. Ophelia was as sweet as an angel, smiling widely when said women talked to her or pinched her cheeks. She never cried or made weird faces. She probably got her social skills from me. At the moment, Ophelia is asleep in her stroller and I'm reading Pride and Prejudice. I found a parasol closer to the parking lot than to the ocean that was big enough for the both of us and all our stuff, so it became mine. I'm now almost at the end and I can't wait to be done with it. If this story wasn't so important to Eleanor, I would have ditched the book a long time ago. I hate having to stop at each sentence to wonder if I understood it correctly. I also never remember the characters from one chapter to the next. I'm always asking myself who this is and why is he or she doing that. Luckily, I found a nice website that explains everything to me in words I can understand. Thanks to that website, I found out that Bingley is Darcy's best friend and not a random stranger like I had first thought. Anyway, I only have two chapters left. Elizabeth Bennet's story is coming to an end and I can't wait.

"Hey, pretty girl," I hear a woman's voice say. Thankful for the distraction, I put my book down to check on Ophelia. She's awake, but still snuggled into her stroller as if she had wanted to sleep longer but was disturbed. She is holding on to the pink blanket with small hearts she carries around everywhere, rubbing it on her face. The woman is waving her hand at my daughter who now wears a small smile on her face. I smile at the woman too, asking Ophelia to wave. "What a pretty name, very original," the woman adds, turning around to face me. I thank her, finding pride in the fact that I came up with it. The woman seems about forty or fifty and, by the way she interacts with Ophelia, I can see that she already has grandkids. She speaks softly as if she was trying to not disturb her. I move to stand in front of the stroller as I listen to the woman ask Ophelia about her day at the beach.

"Dada." I hear Ophelia say when she sees me. My heart suddenly stops beating only to start again a second later at a thousand beats per minute. It's the first time I hear her say that and, even if I have no idea if it was intentional of not, I feel tears in my eyes. The woman's hand is on my arm as a huge smile appears on my lips.

"Was it her first word?" she asks me. I shake my head and pull Ophelia out of her stroller. I give her a kiss on her forehead, and she snuggles her face in my chest. I heard her say mama about two days ago, but it's the first time she said dada. The woman leaves us a few minutes later when she sees that Ophelia is about to fall back asleep.

I sit back on my chair, my daughter still on my chest. I caress her back up and down the way I remember doing when she was only a few days old. When I hear her breathing slowing, I pull out my phone to search about the way baby learn words. I have a faint idea, but I want to be sure. Every website I read says that they learn by hearing other people talk. Does this mean that Eleanor talked about me to her, referring to me as her dad? Thinking about Eleanor telling Ophelia stories about me warms my heart. It gives me hope for our future together. I'll talk to Eleanor. Today, I promise myself.