What A Pucking Beauty

Carter

The familiar smell of salt and frost invades my nose as I guide the puck across the ice and slam it into the net. The sound of my breathing fills the empty arena. It’s early and I’ve been here for hours. Our security guard, Frank, let me in with the same knowing look he’d cast my way all month since the news of my divorce hit the tabloids. It’s the same look all my teammates, even Seb, have been giving me since I took off my wedding ring. It irks me, the way they all stare when they think I’m not paying attention. Like I’m a man who has strapped a ticking bomb to himself. They’re waiting, I’ve realized, for me to combust. React in some shape or form. Yet I haven’t Despite it all, I’ve kept my composure. It hadn’t been easy, and even now as I carve up ice I want to explode. Scream until my lungs hurt; cry until the noose around my heart loosens. Instead, I listened to the sound of my racing heart and let the blood pumping through my ears drown out the words that had brought it all crashing down.

“I can’t do this anymore, Carter,” Amber’s voice held a finality to it, the kind that only comes once you’ve made up your mind about something.

The next words she spoke brought tears to her eyes.

“I want a divorce.”

I watched the way the tears fell down her rosy cheeks. Slow, but certain. I’d eyed the way she turned her ring over on her finger. She had been doing that for the duration of dinner and hadn’t said much either since we arrived at the restaurant. Like something was eating away at her. Now it was clear what had been on her mind.

I stared at her then, really looked and what I saw crushed me. I didn’t recognize the woman sitting in front of me. This wasn’t the Amber I knew. The one that smiled when our eyes met and reached for my hand every chance she got. This stranger sat guarded, walls of indifference filled the space between us.

Something had changed, but when?

In one swift movement, I slam another puck home and watch the way it hits the back of the net before falling to the ice. I stand frozen just as I did back then when Amber placed her wedding ring in the space between us. For a moment, I imagine myself begging her to stay. The reality was that I sat there and watched as she left. It was a long time before I worked up the courage to pick up the ring, its metal cold to the touch just as its owner had been in those last moments of ownership.

“And the crowd goes wild!” a familiar voice says from off the ice. I know this voice, and would recognize it anywhere. The way a plant’s roots know the soil. How familiar the sun is with the clouds. I turn to see Seb standing there watching me, smiling from ear to ear. Like me, he’s in a pair of sweats and a white hoodie, the team logo on full display for all to see. He looks tired, like he just rolled out of bed and drove here. I think he might have.

“I missed,” I chuckle and Seb shrugs.

“Never said they were cheering.”

I roll my eyes at the jab, but can’t help but return the wolfish grin Seb sends my way.

“What are you doing here this early?”

I know it’s hypocritical of me to ask. I’ve never been one to head to the rink early. I like to sleep in, but the truth is I haven’t been getting much sleep as of lately. I wake at odd times of the night, reaching for Amber only to be met with cold sheets. It was torture the first few weeks, now the pain has faded to a dull ache that pulls at my heartstrings at random times.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Seb says as he drops his bag and pulls out his skates. I watched him for a second. He isn’t voicing it, but I can hear the concern clinging to his words.

“You weren’t answering my text. Should have known you had your head on the ice.” Again I say nothing, just watch as he skates onto the ice, stick in hand and eyes on him.

“Your neighbor, Arthur, I think that’s his name, said you haven’t been home in days.”

Arthur was an older man in his eighties, who liked to garden on the weekends and sit outside on his porch during the weekdays. He was a nice enough man, just had a little too much time on his hands in my opinion.

“You were over at my place?” I ask and Seb nods.

“Yeah, I thought we could head over here together.”

“Sorry about that. I needed to clear my head, and well, you know…” I trail off and let the unfinished sentence sit between us like a wall. A wall that Seb takes no time to crawl right over.

“You can’t play her out of your head, man.”

It’s the truth which is why it cuts like a knife to the heart.

“Let’s make a deal,” Seb says, as he takes control of the puck and moves with it towards the nearest goalie line. His words are random but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Seb throughout our years of friendship it’s to expect the unexpected.

“If I can get the puck away from you before you reach the goalie line, then you go home today.” His words leave me speechless for a second, but when I fully process what he’s propositioned, I scowl his way. If there’s one thing Seb hates more than anything it’s losing. He never starts something he can’t finish either. Which means he’s being cocky right now.

“And if you fail?” I ask and he throws his head back laughing at the idea.

“Then I’ll leave you alone. You can skate until your heart’s content. No reality checks, just you and the ice.”

I pretend to think about it. I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, and he knows it. Our competitive sides have always been one of the many things that fuelled our friendship. Even back when we were in elementary school, we’d compete constantly. I’ve had my fair share of wins and losses over the years; his victories pushed me to do better, to be stronger both physically and mentally, and I like to think mine have done the same for him.

“You ready to lose?” I ask him as he snickers at my remark. We’re close enough that he leans in to push against me. “Always so damn cocky, Mckay.”

I laugh and get into position next to him, our skates lined up on the red line.

“Just don’t come crying to me when I wipe the ice with your ass,” I say, feeding into our banter, fueling the tension building between us.

“Those are fighting words.”

I shrug and take the puck from his grasp.

“I’ll give your slow ass a head start of 3 seconds,” Seb tells me, smirking in my direction.

“Aw, you’re so kind.”

“Only to you,” he fires back. “Ready?”

I dance the puck on my stick as Seb leans into his skates.

Our gazes meet, and for a second, time seems to slow.

This, I can do. Just me, Seb and the ice. My mind finally feels calm; the thoughts of Amber and my broken marriage fade to the back of my conscience as I focus on the puck.

“Ready, set, go!”

I’m ploughing forward the second the word ‘go’ falls from Seb’s lips. The ice whispers beneath my skates as I lead the puck towards the goalie line. I can hear Seb advancing behind me, and I flick my gaze to my side just in time to see him skate up beside me. In the blink of an eye, we’re skating shoulder to shoulder.

“A little slow today, McKay.”

He’s teasing me, and I’m going to make him regret it.

“Fuck you, Pierce,” I fire back, pushing ahead.

My legs are burning now and my breath is a series of short intakes. I can see the red of the goalie line drawing near, but I also feel Seb’s presence warming my back, persistent and determined. In a matter of seconds, he closes the gap between us and slams into me, stick stabbing at the puck. I fight to keep possession as we clash, but in the end, he swoops in and steals the puck for himself. I watch, almost in slow motion as he drives the puck into the net.

“Fuck!” I curse as the bitter taste of defeat floods my mouth and sours my mood.

“Hell yeah!” he shouts, his stick in the air. He’s ecstatic as he circles around to face me. A shit eating grin on his face.

“You’re getting old, Carter,” his voice is full of jest, but all I think about is what his victory means for me. Returning to a cold penthouse I once called home.

“That was a practice run,” I try to claim, and he barks out a laugh.

“Bullshit. I smoked your ass fair and square.”

“I’ve been skating for hours, cut me some slack.”

“Nope. A deal’s a deal.”

I can’t argue with that. Our eyes lock and I see the excitement fade from his eyes; replaced by that same concern he’s been trying to hide this whole month. He opens his mouth to speak but I hold up my hand.

“A deal’s a deal.”

With nothing more to say, I skate off the ice. Seb follows me in silence that I do nothing to break as we head to the locker room. There, the only sounds that fill the space between us is the sound of our heavy breathing. Seb and I strip and head to the showers, our backs to each other as we wash off.

The clarity I felt on the ice fades as my mind begins to race again. Panic swells in my chest as I try to push away more memories of the life I had a month ago.

“You’re going to be fine, Carter,” Seb tells me as I think the opposite. “All of this sucks, but you can’t keep running. Not from this and not forever.”

I can try, I almost tell him, but I know he's right.

Amber and I are over.

“The two of you had a good run,” Seb says, as if he could read my mind and words are an understatement.

I first met her during one of our gruelling practices. Coach had been drilling us for what felt like hours. We’d been on a losing streak, so lately the stands had been empty of any student supporters. Imagine my surprise when my eyes wandered, and I spotted the most beautiful girl in all my thirteen years of life sitting in the stands. I didn’t know it then, but she was our coach's one and only daughter, and even after I’d learned her name and worked up the courage to talk to her, that fact didn’t deter me. By then, my heart already raced at the sight of her blue eyes and the sound of her voice. I was a goner.

By the time midterms rolled around, we had gone on a few dates, and I had asked her to be my girlfriend. I still remember the overwhelming happiness that carried me through the week after we’d shared our first kiss. It hadn’t been perfect, but it’d been ours, and she was mine, and that was all that mattered. Before I knew it, graduation came and went, and our first day of college happened. So much time passed, yet I thought of no one else but her. College passed in a blur of hockey and Amber. It had made sense to me to ask her the big question during our last year of school. I loved her and wanted to build a life with her at my side.

Where had it all gone wrong? When did our love start to slip away? What had been the breaking point for her, and why hadn’t I noticed the change?

“Carter,” Seb says, drawing me out of my head. I glance over at him, and he gives me a sad smile.

“I’m here for you, man. Anything you need, I’m here. Just say the word,” he tells me, and I nod because I didn’t trust my voice not to crack if I spoke.

I know Seb, and so I don’t doubt his words. He has been there for me through every hardship I’ve faced. His steadfastness is what’s helped me get through so many trials in life. It’s also part of the reason that being around him is so easy. I can count on him.

I finish rinsing off and head back into the locker room to get dressed.

“Carter,” Seb says as he enters the locker room, a white towel wrapped around his waist and a damp black tee on.

“I…”

He glances down and then back up at me before clearing his throat. I notice a redness to his cheeks and a quickness to his breath. Whatever he’s about to say has him worked up.

The door to the locker room opens, and Connor walks in, a duffel bag full of gear slung over his shoulder. He gives us both a nod and mumbles a greeting, before making his way over to his cubby.

“You guys are here early,” Conner observes as he slips out of his shirt and into a workout tank.

“Yeah, been trying to up my game lately,” I tell him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Seb says before he turns his back on both of us. I’m tempted to ask him what he was going to say before Conner arrived, but the moment is gone.

I walk over to my cubby just as the door opens and Owen, Evan, and Hudson, our team captain, file into the locker room one after the other.

“Morning,” Owen says.

“Can someone tell me why we still haven’t gotten someone to fix the coffee machine in the lobby?” Evan complains.

Yawning, Hudson waves my way.

After that, teammates slowly fill the locker room, and all of us fall into a comfortable routine of getting ready for our morning workout session.

Reaching into my cubby, I pick up my phone and turn it on. A picture of Amber stares back at me. I keep telling myself I have to change my lock screen, but every time I go to do it, a lump lodges itself in my throat, and I can’t breathe. The picture is one I took a few days after our wedding. She’s wearing my jersey and is lying in our bed, and she has this look in her eyes, the one she used to reserve just for me. It’s the look she gave me as we held hands and said our vows, the kind of look that made me feel like I was the only man in the world. Call it endearment or admiration, I choose to call it love. This photo is evidence that, once upon a time, love existed between us. Now it’s forever encased behind my screen, never to be my reality again. I’ve deleted all the pictures of her but this one. I thought doing so might help me take the first step to moving forward. All it did was make room for regret to settle beside the heartbreak.

“Come on. I’ll spot you today,” Seb says and I left my head to see him walking my way. I click off my phone and toss it into my cubby, trying and failing to ignore the ache in my heart as that’s been there since Amber left me sitting at that table I follow after him. The familiar sound of radio music pumping from the gym overhead speakers greets me as the smell of cleaner and sweat assaults my nose. I use these things to ground myself. I need to focus, lock in and stop letting my thoughts distract me. Distractions lead to fuck ups, and the last thing I need is to do something that will take me off the ice. Hockey’s all I’ve got right now. It’s the only thing keeping me together.

“Come on, slowpoke. Time to put those muscles to use.” Seb says as he places weights onto the bar because of course he knows how much I lift without having to ask me. It’s a light workout yet I’m feeling the consequence of my lack of sleep throughout this week. By the end of each set I feel my body begging me to stop, but I ignore it and push myself to finish. The familiar feeling of the weights bearing down on me centers my mind and I need that right now. More than rest. The morning passes in a haze of controlled lifts and stretches that take far too much out of me so by the time we file out onto the ice I’m feeling like lead. We practice drills and work on honing our teamwork and although it’s the same drills I’ve performed a million times, today feels different. Today, my turns aren’t as sharp and passes miss more often then they land. I’m struggling to keep up and struggle even more to hide the fact that I'm struggling, but I don’t want it to end. This moment where everything feels in place, and nothing else matters except ice below my skates and the puck against my stick. Here I’m Carter McKay, NHL player and right wing to the Michigan Marauders and I could skate forever in this bubble, let the borders and plexiglass block out the rest of the world.

“McKay! What the hell are you doing?!” Coach Anderson yells as I manage to fumble my third shot in a row. His words echo in my mind as I circle back around and skate up beside Seb. He passes me the puck and I guide it towards the net. I line my shot up, see our goalie brace himself and then… miss.

“McKay!” Coach shouts as I curse under my breath.

“Off my ice!” he barks.

Head tucked in shame, I bench myself.

Seb’s eyes find mine, but I can’t hold his stare, so I cast my gaze downwards.

Coach Anderson doesn’t call me back on the ice for the rest of practice, and I don’t blame him. Agonizingly slowly, practice comes to an end, and I watch as my teammates leave the rink one by one and stand to follow them.

“McKay! My office now!” Coach orders, and I nod, already dreading the lecture coming.

“You wanted to speak to me,” I say as I step into his office a few minutes later. The space is small for such a big man, but he makes it work somehow. The walls are lined with trophies and picture frames. Each one holding a memory either from his own career or the careers of those he’s coached over the years. His desk sits in the middle of the room and he sits behind it, shuffling through papers.

“You sucked today,” he tells me, and I’ve always appreciated his straightforwardness, but today it stings to hear his honesty.

His eyes look me up and down.

“You look like shit.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Chances are he’s right.

“You need to take a break, McKay. You’re pushing yourself too hard, and it’s affecting your game. Take a break and—“

“I can’t. Hockey’s all I’ve…”

I can’t bring myself to voice my thoughts. They feel too desperate.

“McKay.”

“Coach.”

“I know things aren’t easy for you right now. I heard the news about your divorce,” he says, and the pity I hear in his voice makes me wince.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, and he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Then show me. Show me you’ve got this.”

He goes back to looking through his papers, and I take the hint for what it is. His way of dismissing me. I head back to the locker room. Everyone is busy doing their own thing. Most are getting ready to head home for the day, each of them unaware of the panic rising in me as I strip off my gear and pack up my things to leave.

“Hey,” Seb says as he shoves his gear into his bag. “Want to come over to my place and have a few drinks, maybe go over some plays?” he asks, and I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s offering me a way out of our deal. He thinks he’s being slick about it, but he’s not.

“Seb,” I say, and he hums in reply. “I’m okay,” I tell him, and he frowns.

“I know.”

“No, really. I’m okay,” I say. He looks at me and I know he knows I’m lying through my teeth, but he doesn’t call me out and I silently thank him for that. We stare at each other for a solid second before he shrugs and turns his back on me. “See you tomorrow,” I tell him, and without turning to face me, he nods.

I make my way to the underground parking lot and drag my feet all the way to my car. Feeling sluggish, I slide into the front seat and throw my duffel to the back. Now comes the hard part. Working up the courage to drive home. With both hands on the steering wheel, I take a deep breath.

I can do this.

I can force myself to return to the place I used to share with Amber.

I can walk through the halls of our place without searching for her around every corner.

A rap on my window draws me out of my head. I roll down my window and turn to face a concerned-looking Seb.

“What is it?” I ask him, and he opens and then closes his mouth

“Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

It’s a lie that I believe in at that moment. I drive home, that much is true, but I can’t bring myself to go inside. Instead, I drive to the nearest hotel and check myself in all while my phone sits like a weight in my pocket.