ᴍᴀᴇᴠᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ
"𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍 idiot!" Guy Germaine announced as he practically tore his hockey bag to shreds.
"Finally something we agree on," I stated.
I appreciated that he was at least self-aware.
"I truly find it amazing--a personality like yours and you still can't get any dates," He sarcastically sneered.
"Even more amazing--a personality like yours and you can," I shot back as he rolled his eyes and swung the door of the locker room open to retrieve the helmet he had left in Claudia's car. If his head wasn't screwed on I bet he'd lose that too.
Charlie Conway caught my eye as he tried to stifle a laugh. "Not a fan of Guy?"
"Have you met her?" Adam spoke up, his jersey fighting to get over his pads.
I squinted at him and he shrugged with his usual toothy and teasing grin.
"Would you kill me if I asked what happened?" Charlie questioned.
Adam threw his head back and cackled. "Oh buddy, we'll be here a while."
Charlie smiled at the boy and turned back to me. "Is it really that complicated?"
Guy blew through the door once again--this time, helmet in hand.
Charlie's gaze held mine. I nodded, and his face softened.
Whatever Charlie Conway was about to say next, I'm not sure I wanted to hear by the way he hesitated on his words. "I don't think you ever knew how much he liked you."
I closed my eyes. I would rather be dead to Guy Germaine than hear about how much he liked me.
☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 was tied halfway through the final period. If I was watching, I'd be on the edge of my seat. But I wasn't. I was down on the ice, receiving the puck as Goldberg cleared it.
I saw my chance and I took it. That's the thing about chances--you'll never know you had one if you sit around waiting for it. And I do not like to wait.
I kept the puck close to myself as I darted between Cardinal players. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one coming hard. If I had closed my eyes to brace myself for the expected impact, I would've missed a flash of #00 check him into the boards behind me.
Deeking around the last defender, it became just me and the goalie. I heard chants and screams around me, but I couldn't focus on them. Everything I had was focused on this exact moment--the feeling of my skates clinging to the ice, the tight grip of my gloves, the cold air I breathed in and out. Everything I had was in the slap of my stick against the black disc. Every part of me was in it as I pumped my arms in the air at the sound of the buzzer.
Adam crashed into me, his cheers bringing me back as he patted my helmet. "Reilly would shit himself if he saw that!"
I laughed because he was probably right. "Well, then I guess I'll just have to do the same thing at the championship."
"Woah now, let's not get too ahead of ourselves. We still have 10 minutes," Adam said as we took our spots back at the draw.
The ref slammed the puck down. Here we go again.
Being 3-2 against the Cardinals was the toughest 8 minutes of the entire season so far. Holding a lead had never been so hard. Until Adam Banks saved the day.
He intercepted a weak pass and drove it straight up through the blue line. A Cardinal defender dove at him in a last-ditch effort to stop him. But Adam Banks was unbeatable. He was stubborn and childish, but so goddamn unbeatable.
☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆
𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊 on my bedroom door. That was the last peaceful moment of the night.
My mom slowly entered and sat at the edge of my bed. She ran a hand threw my hair and I thought that maybe we could get through a civil conversation. But it was impossible the second she uttered those sharp words.
"Your father called."
I looked up from my book.
"I think it's time to call him back, honey."
"I'm not talking to him."
"Maeve, it's important to have a relationship with your dad."
"Says who? You?"
"Yes, says me. Now, I know you don't really give a crap about what I have to say, but all you have to do is push a few buttons. It really can't be that hard."
"You don't call him."
"That's different."
"How is it any different?"
"He's your father."
I rolled my eyes and picked my book back off of my lap.
"Do you enjoy being difficult?" She asked me.
"Depends on the occasion."
She exhaled loudly--her usual argument piece--and walked to my door. She turned back to face me. "Why won't you just cooperate with me, Maeve?"
I stared at her. "Why is everything always my fault? I don't cooperate with you, I don't talk to dad, I don't try to be a good daughter--did it ever cross your mind that maybe I get this from you?"
"You're so much like your father."
"This is the first time he's called in 2 months. I don't give a shit about him and I'm sick of both of you pretending like he gives a shit about me! Stop protecting him. He left."
"You know, I am really appreciating your optimism on this, Maeve. Go ahead, why don't you say all your mean things?"
"I think you're pushing me to talk to him because you're too weak to do it yourself."
She walked away. Like she always does.
☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆∵☆
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 I wanted to be was in that house. I'd travel the entire world if it meant just getting a break. I raced to put on a heavy sweatshirt and thick shocks. I threw on my boots and mittens as I bolted out the front door. I didn't know where I was going until I had stopped running entirely.
The pond. Nobody skated on it anymore. Snow collected inch by inch on the hard ice until you could barely see the difference between the frozen water and the covered grass surrounding it. I found myself sitting on a nearby bench that I was no stranger to.
It could have been 20 seconds or 20 hours--I don't know. I just sat there and for the first time in what felt like forever, I cried. I really cried. Each sob came from my gut as I held my face in my hands. I let the world crash down onto me and all the walls I had built out of paper trying to keep it up. I let my dad break me. I let my mom break me. I broke myself.
But I'd be damned if I let myself stay broken. So I picked up the pieces. I dried my face in my warm mittens and I took deep breaths--in and out. If my dad couldn't see that he had a perfectly loving family here then screw him. If my mom couldn't see that I'm trying to be strong for the both of us then screw her. If anybody didn't like me or what I was doing then screw them. End of story.
"You know, Felicity is worried about you. She sent me out looking for you," A voice that held the weight of all my memories called out.
I turned to see Guy Germaine's hesitant actions as he approached me. "Oh, lucky me."
"Mae, come on."
"How'd you know where to find me?" I heard myself ask--as if it mattered--as if I didn't already know the answer.
"You loved the pond when you were little. I just assumed..."
I refused to meet his eyes as they watered in the bitterly cold wind. I felt his presence only inches from me now.
"You don't have to be here, you know. You can tell her you don't know where I am."
"Tempting, really," He commented with a small chuckle. "But you're important to my mom, which makes you kinda important to me."
Never did I think I'd hear words like that come from Guy's mouth. And never did I think they'd make me feel so warm on a night so cold.
"What happened, Mae?"
"Nothing important."
"If it wasn't important, I don't think you'd be out here."
An insult nearly slipped out and into the space between us, but I bit it back down my throat--part of me wishing I hadn't. "We got into a fight about my dad."
I didn't think there was even an answer for a statement like that, and I liked it better that way.
"I know I'm probably the last person you want to be talking to," He said after a minute of silence.
I shrugged. Guy Germaine and I could be world champions for saying things that didn't require a response.
"I've been told that talking to someone will make you feel like you're not a complete waste of space," I said, stuffing my hands further into my pockets.
"I don't think you're a waste of space."
I looked at him--our eyes meeting for the first time since he'd found me. His skin was so pale, that he almost looked more like a ghost than a person. Either way, all I know is that memories of him haunt me.
"Be careful, that was almost a compliment," I told him, watching as he let a small smile spread to his eyes.
"Would it kill you if I told you that was supposed to be a compliment?"
"Why? Planning on murdering me anytime soon?"
He forced his gaze back towards the pond in front of us. I wondered if he ever saw us there like inescapable reminders.
"No, Mae. Believe it or not, I'm not conspiring to kill you."
I raised my eyebrows in amusement, watching the spirits of two nine-year-olds race each other around the ice.
"At the moment, at least," He added just a second too late.
"How promising."
I felt him glance at me and I suddenly became extremely concentrated on a loose thread hanging from my mittens.
"You're a lot like your mom, you know that?"
"Gee, you're on fire with the compliments today," I scoffed, sarcasm laced through my voice.
"I'm serious. You both have this particular sense of humor...its impossible to tell if you're flirting or trying to start a fight," Guy said and I could tell he was second-guessing himself.
"Why do you call me Mae?" I asked out of impulse.
"Old habit, I guess," He answered. "I know I probably shouldn't but it's just..."
I supposed that had been a good enough answer because neither of us spoke for what could have been 5 minutes or 2 hours.
"I don't think you're a complete waste of space either," I told him. "You're a good player. The Hawks won't know what hit them."
"Yeah well, I grew up with an extremely competitive girl. You gotta be tough to go up against someone who never loses."
Dreadful silence loomed over us and I knew we were thinking the same thing. I was just the one who had said it. "I lost once."