Out of Play

Even though Gary and I walk daily, and we have our weekly chats, he doesn’t talk about his job. All the articles he writes are about his experiences in helping people. Up here, it doesn’t feel like he’s really working, sometimes.

He nods, studying me. I think it’s the most serious I’ve ever seen Gary. “I did. It didn’t last very long. It’s tough work. Rewarding and I loved it, but hard. It suits me better to write about it, I think. Listen, I know there’s more going on in that head of yours than you’re sharing. I’ve been easy on you, but maybe we should dig a little deeper next time we talk. It will help. I want to help—”

I cut him off. “I’m fine. I’m heading over to work on the Corvette with Gramps for a while, and then I’m going to Pe

“Do you want Troy and me to go with you? Or Troy wouldn’t mind staying here and you and I could hang. It’d be fun.”

Nope. Definitely not my idea of a good time to have my babysitter go with me. “No. I’m good.”

More eye crinkles before I get a simple nod. “Check in with me before you go and when you get home. I’ll also be calling you, and I expect you to answer within two rings. And what I said about our next chat—it’s important and it’s happening.”

Anger pulls and tugs at my insides, but I bite my tongue before nodding, then I turn. I’m almost to the door when Gary calls out, “Hey, Ripe. I’m proud of you. You’re doing good.”

I give him a nod before walking out. He’s the second person who said that to me. I actually feel guilty. He wouldn’t be saying it if he knew about the beer I drank and that I’m waiting for a package of fucking pills to come in the mail.

…

I’ve been working with Gramps for a few hours when he thumps me on the forehead.

“What the hell was that for?” I jerk back, rubbing the spot.

“What’s going on in that head of yours today, Rookie? You’re not being your usual charming self.”

I almost crack a smile at the nickname. Instead, I stand, crossing my arms, not caring that I’m getting grease all over my clothes. “Me? Charming?”

Gramps doesn’t laugh the way I want him to. He’s right. I’m feeling on edge, and I don’t know why. I keep thinking about Mom, Gary, pills, hockey, Pe

“You might fool some people, but not me.” He walks over, falls into a chair, and I do the same. “How you doing, kid?” It doesn’t bother me, like it does with Don, when he calls me kid.

I shrug. “Okay, I guess. I mean, I’m good, I…” I what? I don’t even fucking know what’s wrong with me.

“Did I ever tell you I was in two wars?”

He has, but I don’t want to embarrass him by pointing out we’ve talked about it a lot. “No, but being as old as you are, I figured.”

This time, Gramps laughs.

“Smartass. Like I was saying, I was in the war. Tough shit, it was. People think they know, but they don’t. If you weren’t there—in any war, there’s no way of knowing what soldiers go through. I think that’s the way it is about most people. It’s easy to sit back and think you know what they’re dealing with, but you don’t. Not unless you walk in their shoes, and most people aren’t willing to borrow someone else’s.”

I nod, wondering where this is going, but knowing he’s right.

“When I came home, I was all screwed up in the head. Drank a lot, trying to deal. Of course, that never works, does it? I wasn’t nice to a lot of people. Blamed a lot of people. It was a hard coupl’a years. But then I met a woman—no, not just a woman, the right woman, and she woke my dumb ass up. I got better, not just for her, but for me. I know what it’s like to struggle, Rookie.”

My leg is bouncing up and down like crazy. My vision goes blurry. He knows. Well, not that I have a problem, because I don’t, but he knows why I’m here. That everyone thinks I need it. Fear that he’ll ask me to leave scrapes at my spine.

“I’m not saying I know what you’ve been through. Not sure your shoes would fit, but what I am saying—” He rubs his long beard. “I’m here. You ever want to talk, scream, whatever. I’m here.”

He doesn’t have to offer that. I’m not Gramps’s responsibility like I’m Gary’s. My mouth opens. Closes. I should want to tell him I’ll never need to talk. That I’m fine. The urge to thank him ghosts through me as well. It’s strange because I sort of want to talk to him, but I’m not even sure what about. There’s no reason. I wasn’t in a war, never been through something really bad. I’m just me.

Amazingly, Gramps seems to know I’m not ready. He stands back up and claps his hand down on my shoulder. “I know about that damn band of yours, too. Think you’re so tricky, but no one gets anything past me. Now get your butt back over here and help me finish before that hockey game starts.”

Panic squeezes me for a second, but then…just lets go. I trust him. Really trust him. Without a word, I do what he says.

…

The arena is packed with people squeezed in so tight I can hardly breathe. Christ, I’m not even on stage, the crowd isn’t even for me, and it still makes me want to lose my shit.

This is pretty cool, though. I’ve never been to a hockey game before, so I try to focus on the ice and not the people screaming around me. Try not to hear them chanting my name when I know they’re not.

When the players come out, I try and figure out which one is Pe

No joke. All. Hell.

People are flying around the ice, pushing and shoving at each other. I’ve watched hockey on TV, but it’s nothing compared to seeing it in real life. They slam so hard that the plastic vibrates. I kind of want to jump out there and remind them there’s a girl out there with them, but then I think about Pe

She’s no joke, either. She can take these guys. They should be the ones who are scared.

So instead of making a fool out of myself by busting out on the ice, I pull my hat lower on my head, hoping it’ll help make it so no one recognizes me. Pe

She’s fast. Faster than any of the guys out there. It’s awesome.

I forget about the crowd, pills, Mom, Don, Gary, the band, Marya

Chapter Ten

Pe

We win 2-1, and the crowd goes insane as we skate toward the exit. One of those goals was mine in the first, just after I was let out of the box. The other was Mitch’s in the second. Those Barrow kids were out for blood. I’m going to hurt tomorrow. It’s a good thing we have a couple weeks before state.

The guys are still smacking each other, and I rip off my helmet so I can breathe. My hair sticks to my face and neck. I’m hot and need out of my gear, but people press in close. I’m shaking hands and nodding and smiling like I might actually be absorbing some of what people are yelling over the noise of the crowd.

“Lucky Pe

Matt deserves some high-fives as well. He kicked ass tonight.