Author's note: To my two lovely guest reviewers, thank you so much for your kind words! It always makes my day to know that somebody else is enjoying this story.
March 16, 2000
Even as the pages of the calendar started to peel away, and the days grew longer, winter refused to release its icy grip. Outside, sleet pelted the windows; all of Minnesota painted in a sleepy grey.
Inside, Julie and Adam snuggled on the Banks' sofa, a fire crackling. Together, they sat surrounded by a moat of textbooks and notecards; the formulas and vocabulary words and dates of wars keeping the larger world at bay.
…
With the Eden Hall library packed, and their dorms growing claustrophobic, the two had decided to head a mile down the road so they could study in peace. Bunny asleep upstairs, and Scott back at his apartment downtown, the Banks' mansion did provide a lovely escape from the hoards of stressed 16 year olds cramming for midterms. However, the longer they spent memorizing formulas and re-writing equations, the louder the real questions on their minds grew.
"So you've really decided against Harvard?" Julie asked, her head resting against Adam's shoulder as she watched a log burn in the fireplace, a few errant sparks shooting out across the marble.
"Yeah. I'm just…I don't think I'm really the Harvard-type."
"If you aren't the Harvard-type, I don't know who is."
"Heh, I don't know.
Looking out across the Georgian paneled living room, the answer seemed obvious to Adam. Right above the fireplace hung a 4 ft. tall painting of tight-lipped British men on a fox hunt. Sitting atop their horses in spiffy red coats, they literally looked down on him every day. Always there to judge his every move.
Even our art knows I'm not good enough.
"I mean, you are. You'll be great at Dartmouth. But you've even said it yourself—Harvard is for people who want to like, travel the world, and speak French, and eat sushi-"
"It's just fish."
"Uncooked fish." He reminded her. "Our ancestors invented fire for a reason."
"Whatever. They have cooked fish, too."
"Or do they? Technically, I have zero proof that they have cooked fish in anywhere in Boston. Or even that Boston exists. The whole place might have been made up lure Midwesterners to their deaths."
"You are way weirder than people give you credit for."
"I do what I can."
"Well fine, if you don't want to go to Harvard, what do you want to do?"
"Play hockey."
"I mean, what else do you want to do?"
This time, Adam sat quieter, her question one that had hung in the back of his mind for the last four years. Ever since the day Dr. Chen had told him his hockey career was over, he'd questioned what life held after. What he'd do once his body could no longer absorb the crushing hits. For four years, he'd tried to come up with a satisfactory answer, and for four years, he'd come up short.
His arms still around her, he once again pulled her in close as he leaned down to kiss the top of her forehead.
"I don't know. The families in the Lands' End catalog always look pretty happy."
"You want to live in a clothing catalog?"
"It looks like a nice life." He pointed out. "Plus, you'd never be lacking for sweaters."
"True."
"Julie. Do you take me, Adam, to be your catalog husband—provider of rain jackets and $40 jeans—in summer and winter, back to school and Christmas, for as long as we both shall live?" He asked, holding her so close that she could feel his heart beating through his cashmere sweater.
"I do."
"Perfect. Then I have everything I want."
Still lounging together outside as the birds chirped from afar, Julie realized that the afternoon was slipping away, one leisurely glass of gin and tonic at a time.
"So." She asked, looking back over at Adam. "Have you thought about what time we want to head over to Charlie's? It's past three, and I don't know how long it takes to get there."
"New Hope?" He shrugged, "Like, 20 minutes.
"Are you sure you don't want me to just drop you off?"
Julie looked back over at him, shaking her head.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty sure about that, Cakeeater. Besides, why wouldn't you go?"
Massaging the back of his neck, he sat quiet for a brief moment. Staring out into the distance, he focused on the nearby Minnehaha Lake, and the way its water glistened in the sun.
"You were always more of a Duck than I was."
"You spent two years as captain."
"Warrior captain. I was the varsity Warrior captain. I'm pretty sure that makes me the anti-Charlie."
As he reached over for a cigarette off the end table, Julie averted her eyes, suddenly very transfixed by the time on her watch.
Though not the chainsmoker his dad and brother had been, Julie still found herself bothered by his periodic bouts of smoking.
Sure, he always had a drink in hand, and sure, his bathroom cabinets were littered with pill bottles of Vicodin and Percocet and OxyContin. Sure, she'd noticed enough pipes and rolling papers discreetly stashed away to put any teenage stoner to shame, and yes, she had heard the rumors that he'd at one point devolved into a heroin junkie, shooting up in the company bathroom at his old job. Still, somehow all of that was different.
Cigarettes, more than anything, seemed a cruel departure from her happier memories. More than the rest, they reminded her that her beloved hockey star was long gone. That he'd never again be the boy she remembered; gliding across the ice that day in the Coon Rapids practice arena.
"Considering Charlie's reign at the helm of JV?" She chuckled, forcing herself out of her thoughts. "I don't think anybody was too heartbroken by the change."
"I don't know.
His good hand still bandaged from that morning, he fumbled in vain with his lighter, the flame flickering for a second before petering out. "They were more your friends than mine. Besides, this is a really comfortable sectional."
"You and Laura do pick out good furniture.
"But seriously." She added. "Everyone misses you. Besides, I think it would be good for you to have a little more diversity in your life."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I've creeped on your Facebook." She laughed, curling her knees up against her chest as she thought back to the pictures of him and Scott at the lake, or of he and Reid up in the Golden Gophers skybox, drinking beer in their matching Patagonia pullovers and gold watches. "I know that your social life consists of your brother and Larson."
"So? They're good guys."
"No argument there. But I do think there's something to be said for occasionally talking to people who don't have Rolexes."
"Rolexes are pretty cheap." He shrugged, still fiddling with the lighter. "I think most people have one."
"I rest my case. Also, how did you ever survive prison?"
"Hey now! Fifteen years of hockey followed by ten more of investment banking? I'm pretty sure I'm tougher than any tax evading accountant!"
"Yeah, you're totally what I think of when I think of tough guys."
Adam just smiled, his eyes once again crinkling shut.
"I'm still alive, aren't I?"
…..
A short time later, Julie was back upstairs getting ready for the evening while Adam sat down in the living room, indulging Caroline's desire to watch Frozen for the 9,000th time. As Julie shimmied into her favorite white sundress, she could hear the strains of 'Let it Go' coming up through the vents…complete with a rather off-key, distinctly male addition to the ensemble.
And to think people ragged on him for being gay?
I'm pretty sure the gay ones aren't this musically challenged...
Still, she smiled as she thought back to the sight of him and Caroline snuggled up on the sofa, Adam dawning a silver wand and plastic tiara with his chambray shirt.
He really is pretty adorable.
Reaching into her suitcase organizer, she rummaged around for a pair of earrings and the right necklace, pulling out a familiar diamond pendant. As she clasped the gold chain around her neck, she thought back to the boy who gave it to her twenty-one years earlier, and the hopes of forever she'd felt as he helped her put it on, his warm, calloused fingers brushing against her skin.
April 3, 2000
"And you don't even want to try?"
Adam sat across from her on the bed, his jaw set, but his brows furrowed in concern.
The conversation had been put off for over a month, but as the dogwoods began to bloom and the talk around school shifted from hockey to prom and graduation, Julie knew there was no putting it off any longer. Like it or not, they were going to be graduating soon, and Adam was going to have to figure out what he was doing after high school.
Alone.
Without her.
"I just…I think it'll be better this way."
Adam sighed, running a hand through his sandy fringe.
"What if—what if I did go ahead and go to Harvard? I haven't committed to Minnesota yet. What if I was in Boston, and we were only like three hours apart?"
Julie paused for a moment, chewing on the side of her lip.
The thought was tempting.
She did, after all, want him to go to Harvard. And a piece of her did want to try to make it work.
But she also knew that she'd only be delaying the inevitable—that even if Harvard and Dartmouth would be good bedfellows, the NHL and Dartmouth would not be.
"Yeah, but that's…that's not the point."
Clutching her pillow in tighter, she took a deep breath before she continued, hoping that she was making the right choice.
"I mean, yeah, we could probably make it work for a year, but then what? You'll go off the NHL, and before long, I'll be applying for medical school. What are we supposed to do then?"
"Fuck, I don't know. Whatever it is that people do?" He shrugged, tearing at a loose piece of fingernail as he leaned back against the wall. "I mean, there are these cool things called 'planes'—I've heard you can take them from one place to another. It's a pretty good system, really."
"I'm serious."
"I'm serious, too."
"I just—I don't know. I—I can't do this."
"Can't do what?"
"I can't spend the rest of my life with you."
It had been the most decisive thing she'd said all day, and before the words even left her mouth, she knew they were true.
Still, they hung in the air, swallowing up all of the oxygen in the room.
True or not, they hurt.
For a moment, they both just sat there. Processing.
Finally, Adam got up from the bed and put on his jacket, tears starting to well in his eyes.
"Fuck you." He muttered as he walked towards the door, refusing to look back.
Reaching for the door handle, the whole room turned to a watery mess as he choked back snot and tears. She was the one thing he loved more than hockey, and now she didn't love him back. Maybe she never had.
"I don't love you, either." He shouted back from the safety of the hallway, his wounded ego convinced that hurting her would somehow make it all better. "I hope some patient gives you AIDS!"
"And I hope some goon knocks out all of your teeth!"
"Not really." She thought, clutching her pillow in even tighter.
You have really nice teeth. I hope you get to keep them.
"Wow. You look…as gorgeous as ever." Adam commented as Julie walked down the stairs, his eyes drawn to her toned legs and the way that her little white sundress skimmed her every curve.
With Caroline snuggled up in his lap, he found himself saying a quick prayer of thanks for the fact that things downstairs were no longer terribly responsive, the recalcitrance of the troops suddenly a blessing in disguise.
At least Viagra's covered by insurance. Childhood therapy isn't.
Glancing his first love up and down, he unconsciously found himself pulling Caroline in tighter, hoping to cover his doughy midsection.
Next to Julie, he felt even more self-conscious than usual, thinking back to the mangled pile of flesh that he stared at in the mirror each morning.
Every day, it seemed, the march of time further took its toll. No amount of diet or exercise or physical therapy or good tailoring quite able to hide the way that injuries had warped every inch; the way that nothing was shaped the way it was supposed to be anymore.
"Forget 'Body by Bowflex'." He thought to himself. "I've got 'Body by Picasso'."
"Why thank you." Julie smiled, her cheeks flushing pink at the compliment. "You look pretty wonderful, yourself."
As she reached into her purse to double check that she'd remembered her phone and wallet, Adam took the opportunity to discreetly adjust his medical-grade abdominal binder, eager to relieve a pain in his rib.
.
On one hand, the binder did do a nice job of supporting his back and keeping the doughier parts held in place. On the other hand, it was hot, and it dug into his ribcage; always jutting in at the most miserable angles possible.
.
"Well are you ready to go, beautiful?" He asked, everything now adjusted into a more tolerable position.
"I am.
Julie smiled, eyeing the plastic tiara that he'd forgotten to take off. "I just can't believe that I'm in the presence of royalty here."
"Princess Adam at your service."
Carefully, he placed the tiara back on Caroline's head before trying to extricate himself from the sofa.
"No. You can't relinquish the crown that easily!"
"Don't worry, Jules." He reminded her, kissing the hand that she'd extended in order to help him up. "I don't need a crown to be a very special princess."
"No you do not."
Walking towards the door, she stopped at one point to fix the bangs of a certain 'very special princess'. Standing so close, her fingers in his sandy hair, she found herself mesmerized by him; by the way that his smile was still as perfect as ever, and by the way that he looked cuddled up with Caroline. By the way that the same march of time she wanted to Botox away had only made him more attractive; the creases around his eyes highlighting their sparkle, and the softer bits making him all the more delightful to hug.
She thought back to their promises of 'forever' when they were 17, and the way that they slow danced one last time on his wedding night; his 'forever' now belonging to someone else. Someone who wore pearls and baked muffins.
April 3, 2000
"So. Are you alright?"
For four hours, Adam had been missing in action. Not long after he left, Julie called his dorm, hoping to end things on a slightly more pleasant note. When Guy picked up, he informed her that he hadn't seen his roommate, but that he'd give her a call when he returned.
Hour after hour slowly ticked by on the clock, the knot in Julie's stomach growing as she realized it was getting dark.
She'd called his house, and later Scott, and then Larson, but still, as late evening set in, Adam was nowhere to be found. In a moment of desperation, she'd even gone so far as to send Crawford a message on AIM, but the only thing that got her was a ten minute discussion about golf.
Finally, around 9, Adam arrived back at her door, this time covered with mud and walking with a limp.
.
Jogging, as it turned out, had not been the wisest way to clear his head.
At least, not in loafers. Not when it had just rained earlier that afternoon. And not when he was paying so little attention to his surroundings. A slippery mud puddle and a concrete curb later, his lesson had been learned the hard way.
.
"I think I'll live."
Julie looked down at the ripped knee of his khakis and shook her head, the mess in front of her strangely fitting for how she felt.
"You look pretty pitiful."
"Oddly enough, Thad and the nurse both said the same thing."
"Should I even ask?"
"Yeah no, Thad watched the whole thing happen. He made me go to the infirmary to get checked out…you know, once he quit laughing."
"Nice."
Sitting back down, Julie patted the bed next to her, motioning the mud monster to come join. As he complied, she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Taking hold of his hand, the two just sat in silence for a moment, no words quite right.
"Are you sure you don't need some ice or anything?" She asked, eyeing his bandaged knee.
"Nah. Thanks, though."
"You're really okay?"
"Of course."
"I still wish you'd go to Harvard, you know." She added, nuzzling her face against his cheek. Instinctively, she planted a kiss along the scar from that fateful Christmas party, just as she'd done every day since January.
He really is pretty wonderful.
"I mean, not for me, but for you. I think you'd really like it, and I worry that you'll regret it if you don't go."
"Heh, it's not for me
He pulled her in tighter, relishing the feeling of her body against his. Relishing the scent of her coconut shampoo, and the way that she always knew how to make him feel better about his biggest insecurities, without ever saying a word.
Over or not, she was his one true love, and he worried that he would never feel as complete without her.
"But I do hope you enjoy Dartmouth."
"And I hope you enjoy Minnesota."
"I'll always love you, you know."
"I'll always love you, too."
….